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^ 7 / f ■ i- i ''' / W. H. TINSON, ITKBSOTTPBB, 34 BeelcDian at., N. Y. TAWS, RUSSELL &C0.. , ^, ^ ^ «. V. V . , ^ ^ ALEXANDER, BTEAM iRINTERS, bindkb, 20 Beekman & 18 Spruce-Street 1 Spruce ct., N. Y. '--*#^ rs* u! CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION > Pago 5 BELLEVILLE . 13 LOCAL IMPROVEMENTS — SKETCUES OP SOCIETY 41 FREE SCHOOLS — TUOUOnTS ON EDCCA.TIOX . . CG AMUSEMENTS 7G TRIALS OP A TRAVELLIXO MUSICIAN . 89 THE SINOINO MASTER 101 CAMP MEETINGS 121 WEARING MOURNING FOR THE DEAD . 143 ODD CHARACTERS 154 GRACE MARKS 166 mCIIAEL MACBRIDB JEANIE BURNS LOST CHILDREN TORONTO LUNATIC ASTI.UM PROVINCIAL AGRICULTURAL SHOW KlAGAIvA. • • • • • • • 18G 201 212 220 234 245 . 258 NDEK, i GOAT ISIJLND . 278 N. y. II CONCLUSION ... . . . 291 41 XH Lv our picture ol woods. ] public, W£ about to f they were To perse aucl liLsuri classes at 1 It has pi tured their gle family , knowledge, ditlon, by t niight befi] prove the ti ^^ INTRODUCTION. " Dear foster-mother, on whoso ample breast The lnmgry still find food, the weary rest ; The child of want that treads thy happy shore Shall feel the grasp of poverty no more ; His honest toil meet recompense can claim, And Freedom bless hira with a freeman's name !" 8. M In our work of *' Roughing it ia the Bush," I endeavoured to draw a picture of Canadian life, as I found it twenty years ago, in the Back- woods. My motive in giving such a melancholy narrative to the public, was prompted by the hope of deterring well-educated people, about to settle in this colony, from entering upon a life for which they were totally unfitted by their previous pursuits and habits. To persons unaccustomed to hard labour, and used to the comforts and Lixuries deemed indispensable to those moving in the middle classes at home, a settlement in the bush can offer few advantages. It has proved the ruin of hundreds and thousands who have ven- tured their all in this hazardous experiment ; nor can I recollect a sin- gle family of the higher class, that have come under my own personal knowledge, that ever realised an independence, or bettered tlicir con- dition, by taking up wild lands in remote localities ; while volumes might be filled with failures, even more disastrous than our own, to prove the truth of ray former statements. vi INTRODUCTION iP But whllo I bavo endeavoured to point out tlie error of gcntlcmon bringing delicate women and belplcsH cliildrcn to toil in the wood^, and by bo doing excluding them from all social intercourHe willi per- Koiis in their own rank, and depriving the young had on c money class ia ics hftvo Istinately crowd to the Bnckwoodn, and prefer the coarKo, hard life of an uxeunm, to that of a respectable landed proprietor in i\ civilized part of the countr>, has alwayH been to uic u mutter of surpriso ; for a farm under cultivation can alwayH be purchased for letw money limn must uecenHariiy be expended upon clearing and raising build- ings upon a wild lot. Many young men are attracted to the IJackwoods by the fuciliticH tliey present for Imuting and fisliing. Tli<' wild, fVec life of tho iiunter, has for an ardent and romantic temperanjent an inexpressible charm. lUit hunting ami llshing, however fascinating as a wiiolesomo relaxation from labor, will not win bread, or clothe a wife and sliivering little ones ; and tliose who give tliemselves entirely up to such pursuits, soon add to these profitless accomplishments the bush vices of smoking and drinking, and quickly throw olf those moral restraints upon which their respectability and future welfare depend. The bush is the most demoralizing place to which an anxious and prudent paront could send a young lad. Freed suddenly from all parental control, and exposed to tho contaminating inlluence of broken- down gentlemen loafers, who hide their pride and poverty in the woods, he joins in their low debauchery, and falsely imagines that, by becom- ing a blackguard, he will be considered an excellent backwoodsman. How many fine young men have I seen beggared and ruined in the bush ! It is too much the custom in the woods for the idle settler, who will not work, to live upon the new comer as long as he can give him good fare and his horn of whisky. "When these fail, farewell to your good-hearted, roystering friends ; they will leave you like a swarm of musquitoes, .while you fret over your festering wor.nds, and fly to suck the blood of some new settler, who is fool enough to believe their offers of friendship. The dreadful vice of drunkenness, which 1 shall have occasion to soeak of hereafter, is nowhere displayed in more revolting colours, or occurs more frequently, than in the bush ; nor is it exhibited by the lower classes in so shameless a manner as by the gentlemen settlers, from vm INTRODUCTION. whom (I hotter example mi^ht be expected. It woiiM not l>e difflctilt to point out the caiiHes whicli loo often lend to these melancholy resulta. LosH of property, incapacUy for hard labour, yielding the mind to low and degrading vices, whicii destroy self-rrspoct und paralyse ho- nest e.xertion, and the annihilation of those extravagant hopes that false statements, made by interesteH tbat I cntcr- c a few oaber of t in tlic lis it cx- 10 of tlio 10 many UTS and 3 for mo |t (>r pijnr |y native in tlu! hourtfelt ;h of tlic rlioa of s unable Lvaclo — a [indopen- by bis The friendly rdutlonH wliich now ex'iA betweon us and onr outor- priwinj?, IntolligtMit American noi^'liborn, havo doubtleas done much to proilucc this umalKaniation of clasacH. The gentleman no lonj^er looks down with supercilious Belf-itnportance on the wealthy merchant, nor does the latter refuse to the ingenious mechanic the ri.'spoct duo to him as a man. A more healthy state pervades Canadian society than existed here a few years ago, when party feeling ran liigh, and the professional men and ofllce-holders visited exclusively ,'\mong themselves, aflecting airs of aristocratic superiority, which were per- fectly absurd in a new country, and which gave great olfence t<> those of equal wealth who were not admitted into their clinue. Though too much of this spirit exists in the large cities, such as Quebec, Montreal, and Toronto, it would not bo tolerated in the small district towns and villages, where a gentleman could not taico a surer method of making himself unpopular than by exhibiting this feeling to his fellow-townsmen. I have been repeatedly asked, since the publication of •' Roughing it in the Bush," to give an account of the present state of society in the colony, and to point out its increasing prosperity and com- mercial advantages ; but statistics are not my forte, nor do I feel myself qualified for such an arduous and important task. My know- ledge of the colony is too limited to enable mo to write a compre- hensive work on a subject of vital consequence, which might involve the happiness of others. But what I do know I will endeavour to sketch with a light pencil ; and if I cannot convey much useful information, I will try to amuse the reader ; and by a mixture of prose and poetry compile a small volume, which may help to whilo away an idle hour, or fill up tho blanks of a wet day. 1 embers 'anada ; If acquir- Belleville, Canada West, INDIAN SUMMER. By the purple haze that lies On the distant rocky height, Ey the deep blue of the tkies, By the smoky amber light, Through the forest arches streaming, Where nature on her throne sits dreaming, And the Kun is scarcely gleaming Through the cloudlet's snowy white. Winter's lovely herald greets us, Ere the ice-crown'd tyrant meets us. A mellow softness fills the air — No breeze on wanton winj steals by, To break the holy quiet there. Or make the waters fret and sigh, Or the golden alders sliiver, That bend to kiss the placid river. Flowing on and on for ever ; But the little waves seem sleeping, O'er the pebbles slowly creeping, That last night were flashing, leaping. Driven by the restless breeze. In lines of foam beneath yon trees. Dress'd in robes of gorgeous hue — Brown and gold with crimson blent, The forest to the waters blue Its own enchanting tints has lent. In their dark depths, life-like glowing, Vt'^e see a second forest growing, Each pictur'd leaf and branch bestowing A fairy grace on that twin wood, Mirror'd within the crystal flood. xu. INDIAN SUMMER. 'Tis pleasant now in forest shades ; — The Indian hunter strings his bow To track, through dark entangled glades, The antler'd deer and bounding doe ; Or launch at night his birch canoe, To spear the finny tribes that dwell On sandy bank, in weedy cell. Or pool the fisher knows right well, — Seen by the red and livid glow Of pine-torch at his vessel's bow. This dreamy Indian summer-day Attunes the soul to tender sadness : We love, but joy not in the ray, It is not summer's fervid gladness, But a melancholy glory Hov'ring brightly round decay, Like swan that Hings her own sad story, Ere she fioatft in death away. The day declines. — ^What splendid dyes, In flicker'd waves of crimson driven, Float o'er the safiron sea, that lies Glowing within the western heaven I Ah, it is a peerless even ! See, the broad red sun has set. But his rays are quivering yet, Through nature's veil of violet, Streaming bright o'er lake and hill j But earth and forest lie so still — We start, and check the rising tear, 'Tis beauty sleeping on her bier. Yea Ihadi and ye appoln For my infj that gi culties of my ] The] ^ LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS VERSUS THE BUSH. CHAPTER I. " The land of our adoption claims Our liighest powers — our firmest trust — May future ages blend our names With hers, when we shall sleep in dust. Land of our sons ! — last-born of earth, A mighty nation nurtures thee ; The first in mortal power and worth — Long mayest thou boast her sovereignty ! Union is strength, while round the boughs Of thine own lofty maple-tree ; The threefold wreath of Britain flows, Twined with the graceful fleur-de-U« ; A chaplet wreathed mid itmiles and tears, In whiih all hues of glory blend ; Long may it bloom for future years, And vigour to thy weakness lend." Year after year, during twenty years' residence in the colony, I had indulged the hope of one day visiting the Falls of Niagara, and year after year, for twenty long years, I was doomed to dis- appointment. For the first ten years, my residence in the woods of Douro, ray infant family, at last, not least, among the list of objections, that great want — the want of money — placed insuperable diffi- culties in the way of my ever accomplishing this cherished wish of my heart. The hope, resigned for the present, was always indulged as a ! " u LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. bright future — a jileasant day-dream — an event which at eoiiio unknown period, when liappier days should dawn upon us, might take ])lace ; but which just now was entirely out of the question. Wlien the cliildrcn were very importunate for a new book or toy, and I had not the means of gratifying them, I used to silence them by saying that I would buy that and many other nice things for them when " our money cart came home." During the next ten years, this all-important and anxiously anticipated vehicle did not arrive. The children did not get their toys, and my journey to Niagara was still postponed to an inde- finite period. Like a true daughter of romance, I could not banish from my mind the glorious ideal I had formed of this wonder of the world ; but still continued to speculate about the mighty cataract, that sublime " tlmnder of waters,''^ whose very name from childhood had been musi* to my ears. Ah, hope ! what would life be, stripped of thy encouraging smiles, that teach us to look behind the dark clouds of to-day for the golden beams that are to gild the morrow. To those who have faith in thy promises, the most extravagant fictions are possible ; and the unreal becomes material and tangible. The artist who placed thee upon the rock with an anchor for a lean- ing post^ could never have experienced any of thy vagrant pro- pensities. He should have invested thee with the rainbow of Iris, the winged feet of Mercury, and the upward pointing finger of Faith; and as for thy footstool, it should be a fleecy white cloud, changing its form with the changing breeze. Yet this hope of mine, of one day seeing the Falls of Niagara, was, after all, a very enduring hope ; for though I began to fear that it never would be realized, yet, for twenty years, I never gave it up entirely ; and Patience, who always sits at the feet of Hope, was at length rewarded by her sister's consenting smile. During the past summer I was confined, by severe indisposi- tion, almost entirely to the house. The obstinate nature of my disease baflfled the skill of a very clever medical attendant, and created alarm and uneasiness in ray family ; and I entertained Fmall hopes of my o wn recovery. Di scen( from as I A I exc shall My ney in made, some The first ai appear upon it to smil interest ing. T to whic als of m peeping three de meet or me on n to whisp blessed ( having p Next! as the pi] outward divine in: the soul 1 ful, howe the most circumsta of the m genius wi] is not a d great nati LIFE IN TUB CLEARINGS. 15 it somo }, niiglit uestion. book or ) silence ler nice nxiously get their an indo- from my le world ; ract, that :liildhood Bouraging ;o-day for hose who itions are ble. The ir a lean- ;rant pro- linhow of mg finger ;cy white ; Niagara, to fear I, I never the feet pnseuting [ndisposi- re of my lant, and Itertained Dr. L , as a last resonrco, recommended change of air and scene ; a remedy far more to my taste tlian the odious drugs from wliicli I had not derived the least benefit. Ill and languid as I was, Niagara once more rose before my mental vision, and I exclaimed, with a thrill of joy, "The time is come at last — I shall yet see it before I die." My dear husband was to bo the companion of ray long jour- ney in search of health. Our simple arrangements were soon made, and on the 7th of September wo left Belleville in the hand- some new steam-boat, " The Bay of Quinte," for Kingston. The afternoon was cloudless, the woods just tinged with their first autumnal glow, and the lovely bay, and its fairy isles, never appeared more enchanting in my eyes. Often as I had gazed upon it in storm and shine, its blue transparent waters seemed to smile upon me more lovingly than usual. With aflfectionate interest I looked long and tenderly upon the shores we were leav- ing. There stood my peaceful, happy home ; the haven of rest to which Providence had conducted me after the storms and tri- als of many years. Within the walls of that small stone cottage, peeping forth from its screen of young hickory trees, I had left three dear children, — God only could tell whether we should ever meet on earth again : I knew that their prayers would follow me on my long journey, and the cherub Hope was still at my side, to w^hisper of happy hours and restored health and spirits. I blessed God, for the love of those young kindred hearts, and for having placed their home in such a charming locality. Next to the love of God, the love of nature may be regarded as the purest and holiest feeling of the human breast. J In the outward beauty of his creation, wo catch a reflection of the divine image of the Creator, which refines the intellect, and lifts the soul upward to Ilim. This innate perception of the beauti- ful, however, is confined to no rank or situation, but is found in the most barren spots, and surrounded by the most unfavourable circumstances ; wherever the sun shines and warms, or the glory of the moon and stars can be seen at night, the children of genius will find a revelation of God in their beams. But there is not a doubt that those born and brought np among scenes of great natural sublimity and beauty, imbibe this feeling in a larger 16 LIFB IN TUB CLKARIN08. degree, and their minds are more easily imbued with the glorious colouring of romance, — the inspired visions of the poet. Dear patient reader 1 whether of British or Canadian origin, as I wish to afford you all the amusement in my power, deign to accompany me on my long journey. Allow me a woman's privi- lege of talkmg of all sorts of things by the way. Should I tiro you with my desultory mode of conversation, bear with me charitably, and take into account the infirmities incidental to my gossiping sex and age. If I dwell too long upon some subjects, do not call me a bore, or vain and trifling, if I pass too lightly over others. The little knowledge I possess, I impart freely, and wish that it was more profound and extensive, for your sake. Come, and take your seat with me on the deck of the steamer ; and as we glide over the waters of this beautiful Bay of Quinte, I will make you acquainted with every spot worthy of note along its picturesque shores. An English lady, writing to me not long ago, expressed her weariness of my long stories about the country of my adop- tion, in the following terms : — " Don't fill your letters to me with descriptions of Canada. Who, in England^ thinks anything of Canada P^ Here the pride so common to the inhabitants of the favoured isles spoke out. This is perhaps excusable in those who boast that they belong to a country that possesses, in an eminent de- gree, the attributes bestowed by old Jacob on his first-born, — " the excellency of dignity, and the excellency of power." But, to my own thinking, it savoured not a little of arrogance, and still more of ignorance, in the fair writer ; who, being a woman of talent, should have known better. A child is not a man, but his progress is regarded with more attention on that account; and his future greatness is very much determined by the progress he makes in his youth. To judge Canada by the same standard, she appears to us a giant for her years, and well worthy the most serious contempla- tion. Many are the weary, overtasked minds in that great, wealthy, and powerful England, that turn towards this flourish- ing colony their anxious thoughts, and would willingly exchange the golden prime of the mother country for the healthy, vigor- i LIFE IN TIIK CLEAKINQS. 17 5 glorious in origin, , deign to in'8 privi- ild I tiro ■with mo itftl to my J subjects, oo. lightly freely, and ir sake. B steamer ; of Quinte, y of note ressed her my adop- to me with ything of favoured rho boast linent de- st-born, — jr." But, gance, and a woman man, but account; progress Is to us a pntempla- lat great, flourish- lexchange \y, vigor- 1 ous young strength of this, licr stalwart clilld, and consider themselves only too hajjpy in securing a Iiomo upon these free and fertile shores. Bo not discouraged, bravo emigrant. Let Canada still remain the briglit future in your mind, and hasten to convert your pre- sent day-dream into reality. The time is not far distant when she shall be the theme of many tongues, and the old nations of tho world will speak of her progress with resj)cct and admiration, ller intancy is past, she begins to feel her feet, to know her own strength, and see her way clearly through the wilderness. Child as you may deem her, she has already battled brtively for her own I'ights, and obtained the management of her own affairs. Her onward progress is certain. There is no if in her case. She possesses within her own territory all tho elements of futuro prosperity, and she mxist he great/ The men who throng her marts, and clear her forests, aro workers, not dreamers, — who have already realized Solomon's pithy proverb, " In all labour is profit ;" and their industry has imbued them with a spirit of independence which cannot fail to make them a free and enlightened people. An illustration of tho truth of what I advance, can be given in the pretty town wo are leaving on the north side of the bay. I think you will own with me that your eyes have seldom rested upon a spot more favoured by Nature, or one that bids fairer to rise to great wealth and political importance. Sixty years ago, the spot that Belleville now occupies was in the wilderness ; and its rapid, sparkling river and sunny upland slopes (which during the lapse of ages have formed a succession of banks to the said river), were only known to the Indian hun- ter and the white trader. Where you see those substantial stono wharfs, and the masts of those vessels, unloading their valuable cargoes to replenish tho stores of the wealthy merchants in the town, a tangled cedar swamp spreads its dark, unwholesome vegetation into the bay, completely covering with an impenetrable jungle those smooth verdant plains, now surrounded with neat cottages and gardens. Of a bright summer evening (and when is a Canadian summer evening otherwise ?) those plains swarm with happy, healthy it 18 LIFE IN THE CLEARIKG6. children, wlio assemble there to pursue their gambols beyond the heat uiid dust of the town ; or to watch with eager eyes the young men of the i)luce engaged in the manly old English game of cricket, wltli whom it is, in their iiarmless boasting, "■ Belle- ville against Toronto-Cobourg; Kingston, the whole world," The editor of a Kingston i)ai)er once had the barbarity to com- pare these valiant champions of the bat and ball to '' singed cata — ugly to look at, but very devils to go." Our lads have never forgiven the insult; and should the said editor ever show his face upon their ground, they would kick him off with as little ceremony as they would a spent ball. On that high sandy ridge that overlooks the town eastward — where the tin roof of the Court IIoiLse, a massy, but rather taste- less building, and the spires of four churches catch the rays of the sun — a tangled maze of hazel bushes, and wild plum and cherry, once screened the Indian burying-ground, and the chil- dren of the red hunter sought for strawberries among the long grovss and ■ 'ild flowers that flourish profusely in that sandy soil. Would that yoi; could stand with me on that lofty eminence and look around you 1 The charming prospect that spreads itself at your feet would richly repay you for toiling up the hill. We will suppose ourselves standing among the graves in the burying-ground of the English church ; the sunny heavens above us, the glorious waters of tlie bay, clasping in their azure belt three-fourths of the landscape, and the quiet dead sleeping at our feet. The white man has so completely supplanted his red brother, that he has appropriated the very spot that held his bones ; and in a few years tlieir dust will mingle together, although no stone marks the grave where the red man sleeps. From this churchyard you enjoy the finest view of the town and surrounding country ; and, turn your eyes which way you will, they cannot fail to rest on some natural object of great in- terest and beauty. The church itself is but a homely structure; and has always been to me a great eyesore. It is to be regretted that the first inhabitants of the place selected their best and most healthy I yond the eyes the ish game , " Belle- rid." y to com- nged cata the said nild kick jail. i8tward — her tastc- e rays of [)lnm and the chil- the long lat sandy eminence ;ad8 itself hill. les in the ■ns ahove zure belt k^ping at brother, ties; and no stone Ihe town ray you jreat in- always I the first healthy LIFE IN THE CLKAUINOS. 10 building sites for the erection of places of worship. Chnrches and clmrcliyards occupy the hills from whence they obtain their springs of fresh water, — and such delicious water! They do not at present feel any ill-consecpjcnces arising from this error of juflgmcnt; but the time will come, as population increases, and the dead accumulate, when these burying-grounds, by poisoning the springs that tiow through them, will materially injure tiio hi'.'iltli of the living. The English church was built many years ago, partly of red brick burnt in the neighbou lood, and partly of wood coloured red to make up the deficiency of tlie costlier material. Thi.} seems a shabby saving, as abundance of brick-earth of the best quality abounds in tlie same hills, and the miiking of bricka forms a very lucrative and important craft to several persons in the town. Belleville was but a small settlement on the edge of the forest, scarcely deserving the name of a village, when this church first pointed its ugly tower towards heaven. Doubtless its founders ^bought they had done wonders when they erected this humble looking place of worship ; but now, when their descendants have become rich, and the village of log-huts and frame buildings has grown into a populous, busy, thriving town, and this red taste- less building is too small to accommodate its congregation, it should no longer hold the height of the hill, but give i)lace to a larger and handsomer edifice. Behold its Catholic brother on the other side of the road ; how much its elegant structure and graceful spire adds to the beauty of the scene. Yet the funds for rearing that handsome building, which is such an ornament to the town, were chielly derived from small subscriptions, drawn from the earnings of mechanics, day-labourers, and female servants. If the Church of England were supported throughout the colony, on the volun- tary principle, we should soon see fine stone churches, like St. Michael, replacing these decaying edifices of wood, and the out.- cry about the ever-vexed question of the Clergy Reserves, would be merged in her increased influence and prosperity. The deep-toned, sonorous bell, that fills the steeple of the Catholic church, which cost, I have been told, seven hundred 20 LIFK IN THK CLKARINOS. potiiulfl, and WJV3 l>roui,'lit all tlio ■svay fi-(»iM Spain, ^vad pur- chased by tho voluntary donations of tho congregation. This l)t'll is '•eniarkable for its fine tone, -wliicli can bo heard ciglit miles into tho comitry, as far as the village of North[)ort, eleven miles distant, on tho other side of tho bay. There is a Holomn grandeur in tlio solitary voice of tho magnilicent bell, as it booms across tho valley in which tho town lies, and reverberates among tho distant woods and liills, •which him a very imposing etlect. A fow years ago tho mechanics in tho town entered into an agreement that thoy would only work from six to six during tho summer months, and from seven till tivo in tho winter, and they offered to pay a certain sum to tho Catholic church for tolling tho bell at tho said hours. Tho Catholic workmen who reside in or near tho town, adhere strictly to this rule, and, if the season is ever so pressing, they obstinately refuse to work before or after the stated time. I have scon, on our own little farm, tho mower lling down his scytho in tho swathe, and the harvest- man his sickle in the ridge, tho moment the bell tolled for six. In fact, the bell in this respect is looked upon as a great nui- sance; and the farmers in tho country refuse to bo guided by it in tho hours allotted for field labour; as they justly remark that tho best time for hard work in a hot country is before six in the morning, and after tho heat of the day in the evening. When tho bell commences to toll there is a long j^auso be- tween each of the first four strokes. This is to alloAV the pious Catholic time for crossing himself and sa-ying a short prayer. How much of tho ideal mingles with this worship ! No won- der that tho Irish, who are such an imaginative people, should cling to it with such veneration. Woidd any other creed suit them as well ? It is a solemn thing to stop into their churches, and witness tho intensity of their devotions. Reason never raises a doubt to shako tho oneness of their faith. They receive it on the credit of their priests, and their credulity is as boimd- loss as their ignorance. Often have I asked tho poor Catholics in my employ why such and such days were holy days ? They could seldom tell me, but said that " the priest told them to keep them holy, and to break them would be a deadly sin." i tlieyl mysel gcr o| self lias cl whicll LIFK IN TIFE CLKAUINOS. 21 vns pur- .n. Thia ird ci^'ht rt, clcvin a soloirm lell, as it crborutcs imposing ;(! into an hiring tho , ftnd tlicy for tolling ,lio reside vnd, if the ork before ittlo farm, ic liarvest- for six. jgroat nui- jided by it Iniark that six in the 1 cannot but respect their child-like trnst, and tho rovercnco they feel for their spiritual teochers ; nor could I ever bring myself to believe thnt a conscientious Catholic was in any dan- ger of rejection from tho final bar. lie has imposed upon him- self a heavier yoke than the Saviour kindly laid upon him, and has enslaved himself with a thousand superstitious obsi-rvances which to us appear absurd ; but his sincerity should awaken in us an affoctionato interest in his behalf, not engender tho bitter hatred which at present forms an adamantine barrier between us. If tho Protestant would give up a littlo of his bigotry, and tho Catholic a part of his superstition, and thoy would consent to meet each other half way, as brothers of one common man- hood, inspired by tho samo Christian liope, and bound to the same heavenly country, wo should no longer see the orange bann »• flaunting our streets on tho twelfth of July, and natives of the same island provoking each other to acts of violence and bloodshed. Tliese hostile encounters are of yearly occurrence in tho colony, and are justly held in abhorrence by the pious and thinking portion of the population of either denomination. Tlio government has for many years vainly endeavored to put them down, but they still pollute with their moral leprosy the free institutions of tho country, and eflfectually prevent any friendly feeling which might grow up between the members of these rival and hostile creeds. In Canada, where all religions are tolerated, it appears a use- less aggravation of an old national gi-ievanco to jjerpetuato tho memory of the battle of tho Boyne. "What have we to do with tlio hatreds and animosities of a more barbarous ago. These things belong to tlie past : " Lot the dead bury their dead," and let us form for ourselves a holier and truer present. Tho old quarrel between Irish Catholics and Protestants should have been sunk in tho ocean when they left their native country to lind a home, unpolluted by tho tyrannies of bygone ages, in the wilds of Canada. Tho larger portion of our domestics are from Ireland, and as far as my experience goes, I have found t^^o Catholic Irish as faithful and trustworthy as tho Protestants. The tendency to I '^1 92 MFE IN TlIK CI.^ARINOR. Iiuto belongs to tho rncc, not to tlio religion, or the ProtoHtant would not exhibit the bjuiio viiulictivo spirit wbich iiiarku liii) Ctttliolie brother. They break und destroy more than tho rroteHtiiutH, but thiit HpringH from tho reckless carelossncss of their cliuracter more than from any nialico against their em- l)l()yerH, if you n>ay judge by tho bad v.sago they give their own household goods and tools. Tho ])rinciplo on which they live is literally to caro as little as possible for tho things of to- day, and to take no thought at all ft)r tho morrow. '' Shuro, Ma'am, it can be used," said an Irish girl to mo, after breaking the sjxmt of an expensive china jug, "It is not a hair tho worse!" She could not iniagiuo that a mutilated object could occasion the least discomfort to those accustomed to order and neatness in their household arrangements. Tho Irish f-.-malo servants are remarkably chasto in their lan- guage and dei)ortment. You aro often obliged to find fault with them for gross acts of neglect and Avastefulnoss, but never for using bad language. They may spoil your children by over in- dulgence, but they never corrupt their morals by loose conver- sation. An Irish girl once told me, with beautiful sin'plicity, "that every bad word a woman uttered, made tho blessed Virgin 7>?w«A." A girl beconnng a mother before marriage is regarded as a dreadful calamity by her family, ard she seldom, if ever, gets one of her own countrymen to marry her with this stain on her character. IIow ditferent is the conduct of the female peasantry in tho eastern counties of England, who unblushingly avow their dere- lictions from the paths of virtue. The crime of infanticide, so common there, is almost unknown among the Irish. If tho priest and the confessional aro able to restrain the lower orders from the commission of gross crime, who shall say that they are without their use ? It h true that the priest often exercises his power over his flock in a manner which would appear to a Pro- testant to border on the ludicrous. A girl who lived with a lady of my acquaintance, gave tho following graphic account of an exhortation delivered by the priest at the altar. I give it in her own words : — I It "H. r day. and I'ete ainpl not nion year you Hpint i nuite ( llO (1(11 Aldeni and pf day ? Joiin r The I dernian t^portsm, the uuki Such i congregt wits; bi abstract! I'eter N- haros on Most ( winch al men, to \ "I wis] the jolly, old servai eight, to I "D of inimiti alono twir Was a pro] tlio youthl I.IFK IN THK f'LEAniVOfl. 2.1 rotofltant iiarkb hit! than tho 58811088 of their om- ;ivo their hich tliey llgfl of to- a mo, after not a hair ited object ed to order . their Inn- 1 fault with t novor for by over in- oso convor- Mty, "that gin hlushy j^ardcd as a ever, gets taiu on her Intry in tho I their dero- lanticide, so Ih. If tho Iwor orders |at they are [tercises his to a Pro- [o, gave tho i-cd by the *' Shiiro, Ma'am, \vo gut a great scoiild from tlio pranto tho day." "Indeed, Itiddy, what ditl lie soohl you for ?" " Kaix, and it's not inoHilf that ho Hcoulded at all, at all, Imt Misthcr I'eter N and John li , an' he held them np as an ox- aniple to the ■whole church. ' Peter N ' ways he, 'you havo not been inside tliis church boloro to-day for tlie last throe montlis, and you havo not paid y«»i:r pew-rent for tho last two years. ]{ut, mayl»e, you havo got the fourteen dollars in your pocketa at this moment of Hpaking; or maybo you liavo spint it in buying pigiron to make gridirons, in order to fry )i)nr mate of a Friday ; and when your jirasto conies to visit you, if he does not seo it itself, he smells it. And you, John \j , Alderman L , are not six days enough in tho week for work atul pastime, that you must go hunting of hares on a holi- day ? And pray how many hares did you catch, Alderm'Ui Jo'hn?'" The i)oint of tho last satire lay in tho fact that tho said Al- derman John was known to bo an and)itious, but very poor, sportsman ; which made tho allusion to tho hca^ea ha had shot the unkindest cut of all. Such an oration from a Protestant minister would have led his congregation to imagine that their good pastor had lost Ins wits; but I havo no doubt that it was eminer^ly successful in abstracting the fourteen dollars from the pocket of tho dilatory Peter N , and in preventing Alderman John from liunting hares on a holiday for tho time to come. Most of tho Irish priests possess a great deal of hnmonr, which always finds a response in their mirth-loving country- men, to whom wit is a quality of native growth. " I wish you a happy death, Pat S " said Mr. R , the jolly, black-browed priest of P , after he had married an old servant of ours, who had reached the patriarchal age of sixty- eight, to an old woman of seventy. " D clear of it I" quoth Pat, smiling his thigh, with a look of inimitable drollery, — such a look of broad humour as can alone twinkle from the eyes of an emeralder of that class. Pat was a prophet; in less than six months he brought the body of the youthful bride in a wagon to tho house of the said priest to ■ » 24 LIFE IN TIIK CLEARINGS. bo burietl, and, for auglit I know to tlie contrary, the old man is living still, and very likely to treat himself to a third wife. I was told two amnsing anecdotes of the late Bishop Macdon- ald ; a man whose memory is held in great veneration in the province, which I will give you here. The old bishop was crossing the Rice Lake in a birch bark canoe, in company with Mr. R , the Presbyterian minister of Peterboro' ; the day was rather stormy, and the water rough for such a fragile conveyance. The bishop, who had been many years in the country, knew there was little danger to be appre- hended if they 5^ it still, and he had perfect reliance in the skill of their Indian boatman. Not so Mr. R , he had only been a few months in the colony, and this was the first time he had ever ventured upon the water in such a tottleish machine. In- stead of remaining quietly seated in the bottom of the canoe, ho endeavoured to start to his feet, which would inevitably have upset it. This rash movement was prevented by the bishop, who forcibly pulled him down into a sitting posture, exclaiming, as ho did so, "Keep still, my good sir; if you, by your groundless fears, upset the canoe, your protestant friends will swear that the old papist drowned the presbyterian." One hot, sultry July evening, the celebrated Dr. Dunlop called to have a chat with the bishop, who, knowing the doctor's weak point, his fondness for strong drinks, and his almost rabid anti- pathy to water, asked him if he would take a draught of Edin- burgh ale, as he had just received a cask in a present from the old country. The doctor's thirst grew to a perfect drought, and he exclaimed " that nothing at that moment could afford him greater pleasure." The bell was rung ; the spruce, neat servant girl appeared, and was forthwith commissioned to take the bishop's own silver tank- ard and draw the thirsty doctor a pint of ale. The girl quickly returned; the impatient doctor grasped the nectarian draught, and, without glancing into the tankard — for the time. " Was that soft hour Hwixt summer's eve and close," — < lor ter !■ 11 1 SOIK u I Still emptied the greater part of its contents down his throat. A UFK IN TIIK CLEARINGS. 25 old man is 1 -wife. op Macdon- ition in the I birch bark 1 minister of er rough for been many to be appre- in the skill d only been time he had lachine. In- the canoe, he jvitably have i bishop, who ixclaiming, as ir groundless wear that the )unlop called octor's weak t rabid anti- :ht of Edin- nt from the drought, and d afford him ipeared, and L silver tank- Igrasped the lankard — for se,"- throat. A spasmodic contortion and a siulikurush to the open window sur- prLsed the hospitable bishop, wlio had anticipated a great treat for Ills guest : " My dear sir," ho cried, " what can be the mat- ter!" "Oh, that diabolical stuff!" groaned the doctor. "I am poi- soned. , "Oh, never fear," said the bishop, examining the liquid that, still remained in the tankard, anu bursting into a hearty laup;!i, " Jt may not agree with a Protestant's stomach, but believe nu', dear doctor, you never took such a wholesome drink in yourlil't^ ht'tore. I was lately sent from Rome a cask of holy water, — it, stands in tlie same cellar with the ale, — I put a little salt into it, in order to preserve it during this hot weather, and tlie girl, l)y mistake, has given you the consecrated water instead of the ale." "Oh, curse her!" cried the tortured doctor. "I wish it was in her stomach instead of mine I" The bishop used to tell this story with great glee whenever Dr. Dunlop and his eccentric habits formed the theme of con- versation. Tluit tlio Catholics do not always act with hostility towards their Protestant brethren, the following anecdote, which it gives mo great pleasure to relate, will sufficiently show : — In the December of 18-10 we had the misfortune to be burnt out, and lost a great part of our furniture, clothing, and winter stores. Poor as Ave tJioi were, this could not be regarded in any other light but as a great calamity. During the confusion occa- sioned by the fire, and, owing to the negligence of a servant to whose care he Avas especially confided, my youngest child, u fine boy of two years old, Avas for some time missing. The agony I endured for about half an hour I shall ncA'er forget. The roar- ing flames, the impending misfortune that hung over us, was forgotten in tlio terror that shook my mind lest he had become a victim to the flames. He Avas at length found by a kind neigh- bour in the kitchen of the burning building, whither he had crept from among the croAvd, and Avas scarcely rescued before the roof fell in. This circumstance shook my nerves so completely that I gladly 2 ! ^l 20 LIFE IK THE CLKAKINGS. accepted tho ofFer of a female friend to leave the exciting scene, and make her house my homo nntil we could procure another. I was sitting at lier parlour window, with tho rescued child on my lap, whom I could not hear for a moment out of my sight, watching tho smoking brands that had once composed my home, and sadRy pondering over our untoward destiny, when Mrs. 's servant told mo that a gentleman >> anted to see mo in the drawing-room. With little Johnnie still in my arms I went to receive tho visitor ; and found tho Rev. Father B , the worthy Catholic priest, waiting to receive me. At that time I know very little of Father I> . Calls had been exchanged, and we had been much pleased with his cour- teous manners and racy Irish wit. I shall never forget tho kind, earnest manner in which ho condoled with me on our present misfortune. lie did not, however, confine his symi)athy to words, but offering me tho use of his neat cottage until we could provide ourselves with another house. "You know," ho said, with a benevolent smile, "I have no family to be disturbed by the noise of the children ; and if you will accept tho temporary home I ofl:er you, it is entirely at your service; and," he continued, lowering his voice, "if the sheriff is in want of money to procure necessaries for his family, I can supply him nntil such time as he is able to repay me." This was truly noble, and I thanked him with tears in my eyes. We did not accept tho generous offer of this good Samaritan ; but we have always felt a grateful remembrance of his kindness. Mr. B had been one of tho most active among the many gentlemen who did their best in trying to save our property from the flames, a great portion of which was safely conveyed to tho street. But here a system of pillage Avas carried on by the heart- less beings, who regard fires and wreck as their especial harvest, wl ich entirely frustrated tho efforts of the generous and brave men who had done so much to help us. How many odd things happen during a fire, which would call up a hearty laugh upon a less serious occasion. I saw one man pitch a handsome chamberglass out of an upper v.-indoAv into the street, in order to save it; while another, at the risk of his lif Ic his wi of LIFE IN THE CLEAUING8. 27 ting scene, ) another, cued chil'l out of my Tiposed my tiny, when 1 to see ino [•eceive tho liy Catholic Calls had ;h his cour- forget tho me on oui* is sympathy igc until we ' I have no and if you i-ely at your the slieriff .mily, I can lin my eyes. ISamaritan ; Is kindness, the many |perty from |yed to tho the heart- lal harvest, and bravo hvould call one man Indow into •isk of his life, carried a bottomless china jug, which had long been use- less, down the burning staircase, and seemed quite elated with his success; and a carpenter took oft' tho doors, and removed tlio window-sashes, in order to preserve tliem, and, by sending a rusli of air through the burning edifice, accelerated its destruction. At that time there was only one fire-engine in the town, and that was not in a state to work. Now they have two excellent engines, worked by an active and energetic body of men. In all the principal towns and cities in the colony, a large por- tion of the younger male inhabitants enrol themselves into a company for the suppression of lire. It is a voluntary service, from which they receive no emolument, without an exemption from filling tbe office of a juryman may bo considered as an ad- vantage. These men act upon a principle of mutual safety ; and the exertions which are made by them, in the hour of danger are truly wonderful, and serve to show what can be efTected by men Avhen they work in unison together. To tho Canadian fire-companies tho public is indebted for the preservation of life and property by a thousand heroic acts ; — deeds, that would be recorded as surprising efforts of liuinan courage, if performed upon the battle-field ; and which often ex- hibit an exalted benevolence, when jjxercised in rescuing help- less women and children from such a dreadful enemy as fire. The costume adopted by tho firemen is rather becoming than otherwise: — a tight-fitting frock-coat of coarse rod cloth, and white trousers in summer, which latter portion of their dress is exchanged for dark blue in the winter. They wear a glazed black leather cap, of a military cut, when they assemble to work their engines, or walk in procession ; and a leather hat like a sailor's nor'-wester, with a long peak behind, to protect them from injury, when on active duty. Their members are confined to no particular class. Gentlemen and mechanics work side by side in this fraternity, with a zeal and right good will that is tr..ly edifying. Their system appears an excellent one; and I never heard of any dissension among their ranks when their services were required. Tho sound of tho ominous bell calls them to tho spot, from the greatest dis- 'ii 28 LIFE IN THE CLEAUINtSB. tance; and, during the most stormy niglits, whoever skulks in bed, the fireman is sure to be at his post. Once a year, the diflfercnt divisions of the company walk in l)rocession through the town. On this occasion their engines are dressed up with flags bearing appropriate mottoes; and they are preceded by a ban- of music. The companies are generally composed of men in the very prime of life, and they make a very imposing appearance. It is always a great gala day in the town, and terminates with a public dinner; that is followed by a ball in the evening, at which the wives and daughters of the members of the company are expected to appear. Once a month tlie firemen are called out to practise with the engine in the streets, to the infinite delight of all the boys in the neighbourhood, who follow the engine in crowds, and provoke the operators to turn the hose and play upon their merry ranko: and then what laughing and shouting and scampering in all directions, as the ragged urchins shako their dripping garments, and fly from the ducking tliey had courted a few miuutcs bcfi )re ! The number of wooden buildings that compose the larger pnr- tinn of Canadian towns renders fire a calamity of very frequent occurrence, and persons cannot be too particular in regard to it. The negligence of one ignorant servant in the die^posal of her ashes, may involve the safety of the whole community. As long as tlie generality of the houses are roofed with shin- gles, this liability to fire musi exist as a necessary consequence. The shingle is a very thin pine-board, which is used throughout the colony instead of vslate or tiles. After a few years, the iieat and rain roughen the outward surface, and give it a woolly appearance, rendering the shingles as inflauunable as tinder. A .spark from a chinmey may be conveyed from a great distance on a windy day, and lighting upon the furry surface of these roofs, is sure to ignite. The danger spreads on all sides, and the roofs of a whole street will be burning before the fire communicates to the walls of the buildings. So many destructive fires have occurred of late years through- out the colony that a law has been enacted by the municipal % con citit the T I i 1,1 yK IN rilK C'l.RAUIN'OH. 20 skulks in ly walk in engines aro and they B generally ;ake a very I the town, d hy a hall e menihers with tho boys in the id provoke jrry raiiko: ring in all f garments, w minutes larger por- y frequent ard to it. sal of her with shin- kequcnee. Ihroughout f, the heat a woolly [inder, A listance on ^ese root's, the roofs Inicates to through- bmnicipal councils to prevent tlic erection of wooden huildings in tho largo citios. IJiU without the additional precaution of lire-proof roofs, the prohibition will not i)roduce very benellciul elFects. Two other very pr^^'tty churches occupy tlie same hill with tho Calliohc and Ei)i.sc(ipal, — the Scotcli liesiduary, and tlie Free C'liurch. Tho latter is built of dark limestone, quarried in tho ncighboiu'hood, and is a remarkably graceful structure. It has been raised by tho hearty goodwill and free donations of its con- gregation ; and atlbrds another cai)ital illustration of the working of the voluntary principle. To the soul-fettering doctrines of John Calvin I am myself no convert; nor do I tliink that tlie churclies established on his views will very long exist in tho world. Stern, uncotnpromising^ unlovcble and unloved, an object of fear rather than of alfection, John Calvin stands out the incarnation of his own Deity ; verify- ing one of tho noblest and truest sentences ever penned by man ; — ''As the man, so his God. God is his idea of excellence, — tho comjdiment of his own being." The liesiduary church is a small neat building of wood, painted white. For several years after tho great split in tho National Church of Scotland, it was shut up, tlio few who still adhered to the old way being unable to contribute much to the support of a minister. The church has heen reopened within the last two years, and, though the congregation is very small, has a regular pastor. The large edifice beneath us, in Pinacle-street, leading to tho bay, is tlie AVesleyan Methodist churcli, or chapel, as it would bo termed at home. Thanks to the liberal institutions of tho country, such distinctions aro unknown in Canada. Every connnunity of Christian worshippers is rightly termed a church. The Ch itrch is only arrogated by one. Tho Wesleyans, who have been of infinite use in spreading the Gospel on the North American continent, possess a numerous and highly respectable congregation in this place. Their church is always supplied Avith good and etlicient preachers, and is filled on the Sabbath to overflowing. They have a very fine choir, and lately purchased an organ, which was constructed by one of ! ii. M 30 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. tlioir own inemberp, a f,'eniu3 in his way, fur wliicli tliey gave tho handsome sum of a thousand dollars. There is also an Episcopal Methodist church, composed of red brick, at the upper end of the town, by the river side, which is well attended. You can scarcely adopt a better plan of judging of the wealth and prosperity of a town, than by watching, of a Sabbath morn- ing, tho congregations of the ditfercut denominations going to church. Belleville weekly presents to the eye of an observing spectator a large body of well-dressed, happy-looking people, — robust, healthy, independent looking men, and well-formed, liandsome women; — an air of content and comfort resting upon their comely faces, — no look of haggard care and pinching want marring the quiet solemnity of the scene. The dress of the higher class is not only cut in the newest French fashion, imported from New York, but is generally com- ])osed of ricli and expensive materials. The Canadian lady dresses well and tastefully, and carries herself easily and grace- fully. She is not unconscious of the advantages of a pretty face and figure; but her knowledge of the fact is not exhibited in an affected or disagreeable manner. The lower class are not a whit behind their Avealthier neighbours in outward adornments. And the poor emigrant, m ho only a few months previously had landed in rags, is now dressed neatly and respectably. The conscious- ness of their newly-acquired freedom has raised them in the scale of society, in their own estimation, and in that of their fellows. They feel that they are no longer despised; the ample wagea they receive has enabled them to cast off the slough of hopeless poverty, which once threw its deadening influence over them, repressing all their energies, and destroying that self-respect which is so necessary to mental improvement and self-govern- ment. The change in their condition is apparent in their smiling, satisfied faces. This is, indeed, a delightful contrast to the squalid want and poverty which so often meet the eye, and pain the heart of tho philanthropist at home. Canada is blessed in the almost total i absel need wit 111 Tlj at G(j residl King! sprea| this witli Ml I I ( I 1 LIFK IN Tin: CLEAUINOS. 31 gave tho 3d of red which is le weaUh ith morn- going to spectator — robust, :mndsoine )oii their ing want le newest •ally com- lian lady td grace- etty face ted in an ot a whit ts. And d landed snscious- the scale fellows, e wages hopeless r them, respect govern- |Smiling, int and of tho ht total absence of pauperism ; for none but the wilfully idle and vicious need starve here, while the wants of tho sick and infirm meet witli ready help and sympathy from a most charitable public. The Wc^leyan Methodists wisely placed their buryiug-ground at some distance from tho town; and when we first came to reside at Belleville, it was a retired and lovely sjjot, on tho Kingston road, con-unanding a fine view of tho bay. The rajjid spread of the village into a town almost embraces in its arms this once sofitary sjjot, and in a few years it will bo surrounded with suburban residences. There is a very large brick field adjoining this cemetery, Avhich employs during the summer months a nund)cr of hands. Turn to the north, and observe that old-fashioned, red-brick house, now tottering to decay, that crowns the precipitous ridgo that overlooks the river, and which doubtless at some very dis- tant ])eriod once formed its right bank. That house was built by one of tho first settlers in Belleville, an officer who drew his lot of wild land on that s])ot. It was a great house in those days, and he was a great man in the eyes of his poorer neighbours. This gentleman impoverished himself and his family by sup- plying from his own means tho Avants of the i)Oor emigrants in hit' vicinity during the great Canadian famine, which happened about fifty years ago. The starving creatures promised to repay liim at some future period. Plenty again blessed tho land ; but the generous philanthropist was forgotten by those his bounty had saved. Peace to his memory! Though unrewarded on earth, he has doubtless reaped his reward in heaven. The river Moira, which runs parallel with the main street of the town, and traverses several fine townships belonging to tho county of Hastings in its course to the bay, is a rapid and very picturesque stream. Its rocky banks, which are composed of limestone, are fringed with tho graceful cedar, soft maple, and elegant rock elm, that queen of the Canadian forest. It is not navigable, but is one great source of tho wealth and prosperity of the place, aflfording all along its course excellent sites for mills, distilleries, and factories, while it is tho main road down which millions of feet of timber are yearly floated, to be rafted at the entrance of the bay. f! n2 I.IFK IN" TIIK CLEAIUKfiS. Tlio spring Hoods bring down sucli u vast iiinonnt of lumber, that often a jam, ns it is tecbnically called, places the two bridges that span the river in n state of blockade. It is a stirring and amusing scene to watch the French Cana- dian lumberers, "with their long poles, armed at the end with sharp spikes, leaping from log to log, and freei)ig a passage for the crowded timbers. Handsome in person, and litho and active as wild-cats, you would imagine, to "watch their careless disregard of danger, that they were born of the waters, and considered death by drown- ing an impossible casualty in their case. Yet never a season passes without fatal accidents thinning their gay, light-hearted ranks. These amphibious creatures spend half their lives in and on the waters. They work hard in forming rafts at the entrance of the bay during the day, and in the evening they repair to some favorite tavern, where they spend the greater part of the night in singing and dancing. Their peculiar cries awaken you by day-break, and their joyous shouts and songs are wafted on the evening breeze. Their picturesque dress and shanties, when shown by their red watch-tires along the rocky oanks of the river at night, add great liveliness, and give a peculiarly romantic character to the water scene. They appear a happy, harmless set of men, brave and inde- pendent; and if drinking and SAvearing are vices common to their caste and occupation, it can scarcely be wondered at in the wild, reckless, roving life they lead. They never trouble the peaceful inhabitants of the town. Their broils are cliiefly con- fined to their Irish comrades, and seldom go beyond the scene of their mutual labour. It is not often that they find tlieir way into the jail or penitentiary. A young lady told me of an adventure that befel her and her sister, which is rather a droll illustration of the manners of a French Canadian lumberov. They were walking one fine sum- mer evening along the w( ..<, bank of the Moira, and the narrator, iu stooping over the water to gather some wild flowers that grew in a crevice of the rocks, dropped her parasol into the river. A cry of vexation at the loss of an article of dress, wliich is expeu- 81 vol sump a yJ minj and him,| (log- in! lliat start 1 their nd her of a 3 sum- rrator, grew r. A xpeu- 1 4 LIFE IN THE CLEAHING8. 83 sivc, and almost indispensable bencatli tlio rays of n Canadian suninier sun, burst fri>ni her lii)s, and ahracted the attention of a ycMing man whom slie had not before observed, who was swim- minj; at some distance down tlie river, lie immediately Inrned, and dexterously catching the paranol as it swiftly glided past him, swam towards the ladies with tbo rescued article, carried dog-fashion, between his teeth. In his zeal to render this little service, the poor fellow forgot that ho was not in a condition to appear before ladies; who, startled at such an extraordinary apparition, made the best of their heels to lly precipitately from the spot. "I have no doubt," said Miss , laughing, "that the good-natured fellow meant well, but I never was so frightened and confounded in my life. The next morning the iaso tlio waves that leaped uutl foaiiu'd around its patli, aiivas one of great length and severity. The snow in many of the roads was level with the top rail of the feni'es, ami the spring thaw caused heavy freshets liin»iigii the culuny. In the upper part of the province, particularly on the grand river, the rising of the waters destroyed a largo amount of valuable mill property. One mill-owner lost 12,0U0 saw logs. Our wild, bright Moira was swollen to the brim, and tund)led along with the impetuosity of a mountain torrent. Its course to the bay was nnimpeded by ice, which had been all carried out a few days before by a high wind ; but vast (juantities of saw logs that had broken away from their bosoms in the interior were plunging in the current, sometimes starting bolt njjright. or turning over and over, as if endued with the spirit of life, as well as with that of motion. Several of these heavy timbers liad struck the upper bridge, and carried away the centre arch. A poor cow, who was lei- surely pacing over to her shed and supper, was suddenly preci- pitated into the din of waters. Had it been the mayor of the town, the accident could scarcely have produced a greater excite- ment. The cow belonged to a poor Irishman, and the sympathy of every one was enlisted in her fate. Was it possible that she could escape drowning amid sucli a mad roar of waves ? No human arm could stem for a moment such a current; but fortu- nately for our heroine, she was not human, but only a stupid quadruped. The cow for a few seconds seemed bewildered at the strange situation in which she found herself so unexpectedly placed. 13ut she was wise enough and skilful enough to keep lier head ^1 •» 1 > 38 LIFE IN THE CLRAIIINGS. ftbovo water, and slio cleared two mill-datns before she hecamo aware of the fact; and she acconiinodated her.solf to lier critical situation Avitli a stoical indifFercnce wliicli would have done cre- dit to an ancient pliilo.-oplier. After passing unhurt over the dams, the spectators who crowded the lower bridges to watch the result, began to entertain hopes for her life. The bridges are in a direct line, and about lialf a mile apart. On came the cow, making directly for the centre arch of the bridge on which wo stood. She certainly neither swam, nor felt her feet, but was borne along by the force of the stream. "My eyes! I wish I could swim as well as that ere cow," cried an excited boy, leaping upon the top of the bridge. "I guess you do," said mother. "But that'd a game cow. There is no boy in the town could beat her." " She will never pass the arch of the bridge," said a man, sul- lenly ; " she will be killed against the abutment." "Jolly! she's through the arch!" shouted the first speaker. "Pat has saved his cow!" " She's not ashore yet," returned the man. " And she begins to Hag." " Not a bit of it," cried the excited l)oy. "The old dai>*y- cropper looks as fresh as arose. Hurrah., boys! let us run down to the wharf, and see what becomes of her." Off scampered the juveniles ; and on floated the coav, calm and self-posses?ed in the midst of danger. After passing safely through the arch of the bridge, she continued to steer herself out of the current, and nearer to the shore, and finally eflocted a landing in Front-street, wheie she quietly walked on shore, to the great admiration of the younj^'sters, who received her with rai)tm-ons shouts of applause. One lad seized her by the tail, another grasped her horns, while a third patted her dripping neck, and wished her joy of her safe landing. Not Venus her- self, when she rose from the sea, attracted more eutlnisiaslic ad- mirers than did the poor Irishman's cow. A party, composed of all the boys in the i)lace, led her in triumph through the street?, and restored her to her rightful owner, not forgetting to bestow upon her three hearty cheers at [ arting. A little black boy, the only son of a worthy negro, who had 1 hocn a sJ jis the Irl from the! hell of i t found; it of the cu| * armed w: ,! jtaoing thl I the remai to him, away, wi his melan What colour ! I of pity ! *; interest in I tlie cow, { ,| ing of a p 1 Alas! t eyes of lu ^hc provir shores, ar months cc of six yea with as ra log turns, of being < Oh, age boy of si: waters. and darkc a girl -ny account ( under sir of all tha e hecmno II- critical (Idiio cre- over tlic to watch ile apart. !h of tlio , nor felt 1. ro cow," ine cow. nan, sul- speaker. e begins 1 (lai>y father, armed with a long pole, with a hook attached to it, mournfully pacing the banks of the swollen river, in the hope of recovering the remains of his lost child. Once or twice we stopped to speak to hirn, but his heart was too full to answer. He would turn away, with the tears rolling down his sable cheeks, and resume his melancholy task. What a dreadful thing is this prejudice against race and colour! IIow it hardens the lieart, and locks up all the avenues of pity ! The premature death of this little negro excited less interest in the breasts of his white companions than the fate of the cow, and was spoken of with as little concern as the drown- ing of a pup or a kitten. Alas ! this river Moira has caused more tears to flow from the eyes of heart-broken parents than any stream of the like size in i!ic province. Ileedless of danger, the children will reaort to its shores, and play upon the timbers that during the summer months cover its surface. Often have I seen a fine child of five of six years old, astride of a saw-log, riding down the current, with as much glee as if it were a real steed he bestrode. If the log turns, which is often the case, the child stands a great chance of being drowned. Oh, agony unspeakable! The writer of this lost a fine talented hoy of six years — one to whom her soul clave — in those cruel waters. But I will not dwell upon that dark hour, the saddest and darkest in my sad, eventful life. Many years ago, when I was a girl ^lyself, my sympathies were deeply excited by reading an account of the grief of a mother who had lost her only child, under similar circumstances. IIow prophetic wore those lines of all that I suffered during that heavy bereavement ! — if !r' ! I I I I i !t t; < ! 1 i I I I I 1 f 11 .I!'|{, 40 LIFE IN TIIFi CLEARIN(;S. THE MOTHFIVS LAMENT. *' Oh, cold at my feet tliou wert sleeping, my boy. And I press on thy pale lips in vain the fond kiss ! Earth opens her arms to receive thee, my joy, And all my past sorrows were nothing to this. The day-star of hope 'neath thine eye-lid is sleeping, No more to arise at the voice of my weoping. " Oh, howr art thou changed, since the light breath of morning Dispersed the soft dew-drops in showers from the tree ! Like a beautiful bud my lone dwelling adorning, Thy smiles call'd up feelings of rapture in me : I thought not the sunbeams ja,\l gaily that shone On thy waking, at night would behold me alone. • " The joy that flashed out from thy death-shrouded cyos. That laugh'd in thy dimples, and brighton'd thy cheek, Is quench' d — but the smile on thy pale lip that lies, Now tells of a joy that no language can speak. The fountain is seal'd, the young spirit at rest — Oh, vt'hy should I mourn thee, my lov'd one — my blest?" Tlie anniversary of that fatal day gave birth to the following lines, with which J will close this long chapter : — l! THE EARLY LOST. " The shade of death upon my threshold lay. The sun from thy life's dial had departed ; A cloud came down upon thy early day. And left thy hapless mother broken-hearted — My boy — my boy ! " Long weary months have pass'd since that sad day. But naught beguiles my bosom of its sorrow : Since the cold waters took thee for their prey. No smiling hope looks forward to the morrow — My boy — my boy ! TnK t 1,500 s( wore eh artistic i kiss ! 'Pi"g, I of morning the tree ! J eyes, liy cheek, les. blest?" following LIFE IN TIIR CLEARIN'OS. " The voice of mirth in silenced in my heart, Thuu wort so dearly loved — so fondly cherish'd ; I cannot yet believe that we must part — That all. ?avc thine immortal soul, has perish'd— My boy — my boy ! " My lovely, laughing, rosy, dimpled, child, I call upon thee, when the sun shines clearest ; In the dark lonely night, in accents wild, I breathe thy treasured name, my best and dearest- My boy — my boy ! " The hand of God has press'd me very sore — Oil, could I clasp theo once more as of yore, And kisB ♦hy glowing cheeks' soft velvet bloom, i would resign thee to the Almighty Giver Without one tear — would yield thee up for ever, And people with bright forms thy silent tomb. But hope has faded from my heart — and joy Lies buried in thy grave, my darling boy !" 41 CHAPTER IT. *' Prophet spirit ! rise and say, AVhat in Fancy's glans you see — A city crown tliis lonely bay?" No dream — a bright reality. Ere half a centu./ has roll' J Its waves of light .'iway, The beauteous vision I behold Shall greet the rosy day ; And Belleville view with civic pride Her greatness mirror'd in the tide." S. M. TnK town of Belleville, in 1840, contained a population of 1,500 soul.s, or thereabouts. The few streets it then possessed Were chiefly composed of frame houses, put up in the most un- artistic and irregular fashion, thoir gable ends or fronts turned to • L I i;f. 44 LIFK IN THE CI.EAKINOS. " Well, it will ho a bad job for the Ihuiily if lie goes. I've he'rd that there won't be money enough to pay his debts. But what of this niarringo ? They do say that Mis" A. is to be married to old Mister B ." "What arc her friends thinking about to let that young gal marry that old bald-headed man ?" " The money to bo sure — they say he's rieh." " If he's rich, ho never made his money honestly." " All, ho came of a bad set," — with a shake of the head. And 80 they go on, talking and chatting over the affairs of the neighbourhood in succession. It is curious to Avatch the traits of character exhibited in buyer and seller. Both exceed tho bounds of truth and honesty. The one, in his eagerness to sell his goods, bestowing upon them the most unqualified praise ; the other depreciating them below their real value, in order to obtain them at an Tmreasonably low price. "Fine beef, ma'am," exclaims an anxious butcher, watching, with the eye of a hawk, a respectable citizen's wife, as she paces slowly and irresolutely in front of his stall, where he has hung out for sale the side of an ox, neither the youngest nor fattest. "Fine grass-fed beef, ma'am — none better to be had in the district. What shall I send you home — sirloin, ribs, a tender Bteak ?" " It would be a difficult matter to do that," responds the good wife, with some asperity in look and tone. "It seems hard and old ; some lean cow you have killed, to save her from dying of the consumption." ^ " No danger of the fat setting fire to tho lum" — suggests a rival in the trade. " Here's a fine veal, ma'am, fatted upon the milk of two cows." " Looks," oays the comely dame, passing on to the next stall, " as if it had been starved upon the milk of one." Talking of markets puts me in mind of a trick — a wicked trick — but, perhaps, not the less amusing on that account, that was played oflt in Toronto market last year by a young medical student, name unknown. It was the Christmas week, and tho market was adorned with evergreens, and dressed with all possible care. Tho stalls groaned beneath the weight of good cheer — fish, I flcj^h, and I and abstr| "i heart of .V i for the i1 ) quantity hiitchor Ij that had the monsii market, an attract th Dr. C- fii-" the en and orden The man, her full si character! pinned uf quitted th came up t leaning ca scene; an fond of pr off one Uf and dexte side of thi ing victin bvoad she After a titters an and all tli public rci ccMit dan clusively laughter " Prize I reached The la tl)0 ; stall, ) LIFE IN THE CLEAUINOS. 45 flesh, and fowl, all contributing; their share to toinpt tho appetite iiTul abstract money from the i)nrsc. It was a sij^ht to warm tho heart of the most fastidious epicure, and give him the nightmare for tho next seven nights, only dreaming of that stupendous quantity of food to bo masticated by the jaws of man. One iMitcher had tho supreme felicity of possessing a fine fat heifer, tliat had taken the j/rize at the i)rovincial agricultural show ; and the monster of fat, which was justly considered the pride of tho market, was liung up in the most conspicuous place in order to attract the gaze of all beholders. Dr. C , a wealthy doctor of laws, Avas providing good cheer fii" tlie entertainment of a few choice friends on Christmas-day, and ordered of the butcher four ribs of the tempting-looking beef. The man, unwilling to cut up the animal until she had enjoyed her full sliare of admiration, Avrote upon a piece of paper, in largo cliaracters, "Prize Heifer — four ribs for Dr. C — ~;" this lie l)inned upon the carcase of the beast. Sliortly after the doctor quitted the market, and a very fat young lady and hor mother came up to the stall to make some purchases ; our student was loaning carelessly agajnst it, watching with bright eyes the busy scene ; and being an uncommonly mischievous fellow, and very fond of practical jokes, a thought suddenly struck him of playing off one upon the stout young lady. Her back was towards him, and dexterously abstracting the aforementioned placard from the side of the heifer, he transferred it to the shawl of his unsuspect- ing victim, just where its ample folds comfortably encased hor bvoad shoulders. After a while the ladies left the market, amidst the suppressed titters and outstretched foro-fingcrs of butchers and hucksters, and all tho idle loafers that generally congregate in such places of public resort. All up the length of King-street walked the inno- cent damsel, marvelling that tho public attention appeared ex- clusively botoAved upon her. Still, as she passed along, bursts of laughter resounded on all sides, and the oft-repeated Avords, '' Prize Heifer — four ribs for Dr. C ;" it Avas not until she reached her own dAA'^elling that she became aAvare of the trick. The land to the east, north and west of Belleville, rises to a x I 1 4G LIFE IN TIIR CLEAKINGH. conyideniblo heigfit, nnd some of tho back townships, like ITuntlugdon and Ilungerford, abound iu lofty hillTf. There is in the former township, on the road leading from Rawdoii village to Luke's tavern, n most extraordinary natural phenomenon. The road for several miles runs along tho top of a sharp ridge, so narrow that it leaves barely brcadtii enough for two wagons to ])as3 in safety. This ridge is composed of gravel, and looks as if it had been subjected to the action of water. On either side of this huge embankment there is a sheer descent into a finely wooded level plain below, through ■which wanders a lonely creek, or small stream. I don't know what the height of tins ridge is above tho level of the meadow, but it must be very considerable, as yon look down upon the tops of the loftiest forest trees as they grow far, far beneath you. The road is ■well fenced on either side, or it would require some courage to drive young skittisli horses along this dangerous pass. The settlers in that vicinity have given to this singular rise the name of tho "Ridge road.'' There is a sharp ridge of limestone at the back of the towiishi[) of Thurlow, though of far loss dimensions, ■which looks as if it had been thrown up in some convulbioy of the earth, as the limestone is shattered in all directions. The same thing occurs on the road to Shannonville, a small but flourishing village on tho Kingston road, nine miles east of Belleville. The rock is heaved up in tho middle, and divided by deep cracks into innumerable fragments. I put a long stick down one of these deep cracks Avithout reaching the bottom; and as I gathered a lovely bunch of harebells, that ■were waving their graceful blossoms over tho barren rock, I thought what an excellent breeding place for snakes these deep Assures must make. But to return to Belleville. The west side of the river — a flat limestone pk.!n, scantily covered with a second growth of dwarf trees and bushes — has not as yet been occupied, although a flour- ishing village that has sprung up within a few years crowns the ridge above. The plain below is private property, and being very valuable, as affording excellent sites for flour and saw mills, has been reserved in order to obtain a higher price. This circumstance has doubtless been a drawback to tho growth of the town iu I I that dire erection beauties The a down a \ below, water, ar Their sit since the colony ; new Bettl scape. A mor pointed o be a diili( and pleas ])refer it really th( to have p Quinte, cr stretcidni: and beaut I feel pro globe in ■\ selves w'o The sta everythin by the in sided. T looked di reigned j council-cl The to- however was to ii party, wl selves, br traitors a; LIFE IN THE CLKAKINGH. 47 I I that direction ; while slinttiri}^ ont the view of tlio river by the erection of largo buildings will greatly diminish the nutnrul beauties of tliis picturesque spot. The approach to Belleville, both from the east and west, is down a very steep hill, the town lying principally in the valley below. These hillrf conunnnd a beautiful prospect ot wood and water, and of a rich, well-cleared, and highly cultivated country. Their sides are adorned with lino trees, which have grown up since the axo first levelled the primeval forests in this part of the colony ; a circumstance which, being unusual in Canada round new settlements, forms a most attractive feature in the land- scape. A more delightful summer's evening ride could scarcely bo ])ointed out than along the Trent, or Kingston roads, and it would be a ditlicult thing to determine which afforded tlie most varieil niul pleasing prospect. Residing upon the west hill, we naturally ]»refer it to the other, but I have some doubts whether it is really the prettiest. I have often imagined a hundred years to have passed away, and the lovely sloping banks of the Bay of Quinte, crowned with rural villages and stately j)arks and houses, stretcning down to these fair waters. What a scene of fertility and beauty riseo before my mental vision ! My heart swells, and I feel proud that I belong to a race who, in every portion of the globe in winch they have planted a colony, have proved them- selves worthy to be the sires of a great nation. The state of society when we first came to this district, was everything but friendly or agreeable. The ferment occasioned by the impotent rebellion of W. L. Mackenzie had hardly sub- sided. The public mind was in a sore and excited state. Men looked distrustfully upon each other, and the demon of party reigned pre-eminent, as much in the drawing-room as in the council-chamber. The town was divided into two fierce political factions ; and however moderate your views might be, to belong to the one was to incur the dislike and ill-will of the other. The Tory party, who arrogated the whole loyalty of the colony to them- selves, branded, indiscriminately, the large body of Reformers as traitors and rebels. Every couscientioua and thinking man, who 1^ i I , I 48 Llt'K IN THK CI-KAHINU.S. wished to SCO a cIihu^'o for tlio bettor in tlio iiiunagenieiit of public utl'air.s, was coiilbiiiided >vltli thotJC discontented spirits, wiio hud raised the Htati(hird of revolt n<(ainst the niollier coun- try. In justice even to tbeni, it must be said, not wiihoiit severe provocation ; and their disatfection was more towards the coht- nial government, and the abuses it fostered, than any particular dislike to British supremacy or institutions. Their attcmi)t. ■lieth itigated by patriotif .'in d probably it. mess- contained a mixture of both — had failed, and it was but just that they should feel the punishment duo to their crime, lint the odious term of rebtl, applied to some of the most loyal and honourable men in the province, because they could not give up their honest views on the state of the colony, gave rise to bitter and resentful feelings, whicli were ready, on all public occasions, to burst mto a flame. Even women entered deeply into tliis party lio.stility ; and those who, from tlicir education and men- tal advantages, might have been friends and agreeable com- panions, kept aloof, rarely taking notice of each other, when accidently thrown together. The native-born Canadian regarded with a jealous feeling men of talent and respectability who emigrated from the mother countr}', as most offices of consequence and emolument were given to such persons. The Canadian, naturally enough, consid- ered such preference unjust, and an infringement upon his rights as a native of the colony, and that lie had a greater claiu], on that account, upon tlie government, than men who were perfect strangers. This, owing to liis limited education, was not always the case; but the preference shown to the British emigrant proved an active source of ill-will and discontent. The favoured occupant of place and power was not at all inclined to conciliate liis Canadian rival, or to give up the title to mental superiority which ho derived fn-m birth and education ; and he too ol'ten treated his illiterate, but sagacious political opponent, with a contempt Avhich his practical knowledge and experience did not merit. It was a miserable state of things ; and I believe that most largo towns in the province bore, in these respects, a strik- ing resemblance to each other. Those Avho wished to see impar- tial justice administered to all, had but an uncomfortable time of r> UV& IN Till!: CLEAUINGH. 4U ways fiOilt )nrcd iatc rity often th a not that trik- < V it, — both pnrtioH r(«,'ftr(Hi}ff witli nii.strust those men who could not ^o tl'O whole length with thoiii in their political oiiinioii;!. T(. f,'alii influonco in Canada, and bo the leader of a party, a jiian must, as the Yankees say, "t/o the xchole hng^ The peoi)lo in the back woods were fortunate in not having their pence disturbed by these political broils. In tho dei-th:; .»f the dark forest, they wore profoundly ignorant of how tho colony was governed; and many did not oven know which party wis in power, and when tho rebellion actually l>roko out it foil iijion tlieni like a thunder-clap. JJut in their ignorance and seclusiim there was at least safety, and they were free from that druadfid scourge — '' tho malicious strife of tongues." The fever of tho "C/cri/y Resen-cs question'''' -was then at its height. It was never introduced in company but to giveoflcnce, and lead to lierco political discussions. All parties Avero wrong, and nobody Avas convinced. This A-exed political question ahvays brought before my mental vision a ludicrous sort of caricature, Avhich, if I had tho artistic skill to delineate, Avould form no bad illustration of this perplexing subject. I saAV in my mind's eye a group of dogs in tho market-place of a large toAvn, to whom some benevolent individual, Avith a vicAV to their mutual benefit, had flung a shank of beef, Avith meat enough upon the upper end to have satisfied the hunger of all, could such an impossible thing as an etiual divit^ion^ among such noisy claimants, have becai made. A strong English bull-dog immediately seized upon tho bone, and for some time gnaAved aAvay at tho best end of it, and con- trived to keep all the other dogs at bay. This proceeding Avas resented by a stout mastiff, Avho thought that ho had as good a right to the beef as the bull-dog, and Hung himself tooth and claAV upon his opponent. While these two Avero f '^hting and Avrangling OA'cr the bone, a Aviry, active I cotch terrier, tliough but half the size of tho other combatants, began tugging at the small end of the shank, snarling and barking Avith all tho strength of his lungs, to gain at least a chance of being heard, even if he did fail in putting in his claims to a share of the meat. An old cunning greyhound, to whom no share had been ollerod, t I, I '^ \ I ) ':- "; t:1 50 Uk'K IN rilK CLElAUlNOei. uiid wlu) well knew that iL was of no uso putting' hitnscU'ngainst tlio Htrcn^'tli of tho bull-ilog und nii>«till', wtood proudly aloof, with fiuivcrlng cars and tail, regarding tho doings of tlio otiari* with a glaiioo of eovoreign contt-'nipt ; yet, watching with his keen oyo for an opportunity of making a buccossCuI ,si)riug, whilo they were busily engaged in snarling and biting each other, to carry off tho nieat, bono and all. A undtitudo of nondc.scriiit curs, of no weight in themselves, were snajjping and sniillling round tho bone, eagerly anticij)ating tho few tit bits, wluch they hoped might fall to their share dur- ing tho pnjlongcd sculllo among tho higher i)owers ; whilo tho liguro of Justice, dindy seen in tho distance, was poising licr scales, and lifting her sword to mako an eijuul division ; but her voico I'ailed to bo heard, and her august i)rosenco regarded', in tho imivertal hubbub. Tho height to which party feeling was carried in those days, had to bo experienced before it could bo fully understood. Happily for tho colony, <,his evil spirit, during tho last three years, has greatly diminished. Tho two rival jtartios, though they occasionally abuse and vilify each other, through tho me- dium of tho common safety valve — the public papers — aro not so virulent as in 1840. They are more equally nuitched. The union of tho provinces has kept the reform party in tho ascendant, ana tboy are very indilfercnt to tho good or ill opinion of their op- l)onents. Tho colony ims greatly progressed under their administration, and is now in a most prosperous and nourishing state. Tho municipal and district councils, free schools, and the improve- ment in tho public thoroughfares of tho country, aro owing to them, and have proved a great blessing to tho community. The resources of the country are daily being opened up, and both at homo and abroad Canada is rising in public estimation. As a woman, I cannot enter into tho philosophy of theso things, nor is it my intention to do so. I leave statistics for wiser and cleverer male heads. But, oven as a woman, I can- not help rejoicing in the bencticial effects that these changes have wrouglit in the land of my adoption. The day of our com- .^ ;4 > Ut'K IN TlIK CLKAUINUH. 61 id mcrclal nnd national prosperity has dawnod, and tlio rays of tho Kuri uircady bri^^litiMi tho liill-topH. To tlioMo persons who have been hron^rlit up in tiic r)ld (luuntry, and accuBtonied iVoiii intiincy to adhco to tho convoiitional rides of society, the Juixud society must, Tor a hiug titno, prove very distasteful. Yet this very freedom, >vhich is ho rcpu;,'iiaiit to all their |>rcconceived notions and projiidices, is by no means HO unpleasant as strangers would bo levl to imagine A (certain nuxture of tho connnon and tho real, of tho absurd and tho ridiculous, j^ives a zest to tlio (udd, tame decencies, to be \\)U\h\ in more exclusive and relined eirtlos. iluman pmsion." and fceliiigH are exiabited with iiiore lidelity, and you see men and women as they really arc. And many kind, good, and noblo traits are to bu found amonj^ tliose classes, whom at homo we regard as our inferiors. The lady and gentleman in Canada aro as distinctly marked as elsowhcre. There is no mistaking the superiority that mental eultivation ])estows; and their mingling in public with their less gifted neighbours, ra' her adds than takes from their claims to bold tho iirst place. 1 consider tho state of society in a more healthy condition than at homo ; and people, when they go out for pleasure hero seem to enjoy themselves much more. Tlic harmony tliat reigns among the members of a Canadian family is truly delightful. They aro not a (piarrelsomo people in their own homes. No contradicting or disputing, or hatefid rivalry, is to bo seen between Cai;adian brotliers and sisters. Tiiey ding together through good and ill report, like tho buiidhs of sticks in tho fable; and I have seldom found a real Canadian ashamed of owning a poor relation. Tiiis to mo is a beautiful feature in tho Canadian cliaracter. rerlia{)s the perfect ecpiality on whicli children stand in a fandly, the superior claim of elder- hildp, so much upheld at home, never being enforced, is ono great cause of tins domestic union of kindred hearts. Most of the i)retenco, and aftected airs of importance, occa- sionally met with in Canada, aro not the genuine i)roduco of tho Boil, but importations from the mother country ; and, as suro as you hear any one boasting of the rank and conse(]Uonce they possessed at home, you rnay be certain that it was quite tho re- ver8e. An old Dutch lady, after liatening very attentively U) a I I 'I ».' ^1 I , ^%^ 52 LIFE IN TlIK CLEAUTNuS. young Irishwoman's account of tlu< grandeur of her father's faniHy at Jionio, said ratlicr drily to the self-exalted damsel, — " Groodness mo, child I if you were so well off, what brought yoii to a poor country like this ? I am sure you had been much wiser had you staid to hum — " " Yes. But my papa heard such fine commendations of the country, that he sold his estate to come out." " To pay his debts, perhai)?," said the provoking old woman. " Ah, no, n.ft'ani," she replied, very innocently, " he never paid tliem. He was told that it was a very fine climate, and he came for the good of our health." " Why, my dear, you look as if you never hud had a day's tdckness in your life." "i^o more I have," she replied, putting on a very languid air, " but I am very delicate.'''' This term delicate, be it known to my readers, is a ftivourito one with young ladies here, bu', its genei-al apphcation would lead you to imagine it another t' rra for laziness. It is quite fash- ionaMe to be delicate^hnt horribly vulgar to bo considered capa- ble of enjoying such a useless blessiiig as good health. I knew a lady, when I first came to the colony, who had her childreiLdully wushed in water almost hot enough to scald a pig. On being a'-kcd why she did so, as il was not only an unhealthy practice, but would rob the little girls of oheir fine colour, she ex- claimed; — " Oh, that is just what I do it for. I want them to look deli- cate. They have such red taces, and are as coarse and healthy as country girls." The rosy face of the Britisli emigrant is regarded as no boaut}' herji. Tlie Cai|adian women, like their neighbours tlie Ameri- cans, have sin.dl regular features, but are mot-Uy pale, or their faces are only :;ligUtly suffused with a faint flush. During the scjxson of youth this delicate tinting is very beautiful, but a few years de- prive them of it, and leave a sickly, sallow pallor in ita place. The loss of their teeth, too, is a great drawback to their per- sonal charms, but these can bo so woU supplied by the dentist that it is not so much felt ; the thing is so universal, that it is hardly thought detrimental to an otherwise pretty face. LIFE IN THE OLEAHIJOS. 53 I But to return to the mere pretenders in society, of which, of course, there are not a few hero, as elsewhere. I once met two very st3'hshly-dresse(l women at a place of public entertainment. The father of these ladies had followed the lucrative but unaris- tocratio trade of a tailor :n London. One of thenr*. began com- plaining to me of the mixed state of society in Canada, which she considered a dreadful calamity to persons like her and her sis- ter ; and ended her lamentations by exclaiming, — " "What would my pa' have thought could he have seen us hero to-night ? Is it not terrible for ladies to have to dance in tlio same room with storekeepers and theic clerks?" Another lady, of the same stamp, the daughter of a tavern- keeper, was indignant at being introduced to a gentleman whoso father had followed the same call ng. Such persons seem to forget, that as long as people retain their natural manners, and remain true to the dignity of their luup.an- ity, they cannot with any justice be called vulgar ; for vulgarity consists in presumptuously affecting to bo what wo are not, and in claiming distinctions v/hich we do not desei've, and which no one else would admit. The farmer, in his homespun, may possess the real essentials which make the gentleman — good feeling, and respect for tho feelings of others. The homely dress, weather-beaten face, and hard hands, could not deprive him of the honest independence and gonial benevolence he derived from nature. ^"0 real gen- tleman would treat such a man, however humble his circum- titances, with insolence or contempt. But place the same man out of his class, dress him in tho height of fashion, and let him attempt to imitate the manners of the great, and tho whole world would laugh at the counterfeit. Uneducated, ignorant people often rise by their industry to great wealth in the colony; to such the pi'efereuco shown to tho educated man always seems a puzzle. Their ideas of gentility consist in being tho owners of fine clothes, fine houses, splendid furniture, expensive equipages, and plenty of money. They have all these, yet even the most ignorant feel that something else is required. They cannot comprehend tiie mysterious as- cendancy of mind over mere animal et\joyments ; yet they have 1 ., ( f, I 4 64 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. flenso enough, by bestowing a 111)6^1 education on their children, to endeavour, at least in their case, to remedy the evil. The affectation of ■wishing peoWe to think that you had been better olf in the mother country ^han in Canada, is not confined to the higher class of emigrants. The very poorest are the most remarked for this ridiculous boasting. A servant girl of mine told me, with a very grand toss of the head, " that she did not choose to demam hersel' by scrubbing a floor ; that she belonged to the rai'al gintry in the ould counthry, and her papa and luannna uiver brought her up to hard work." Tills interesting scion of the aristocracy was one of the coarsest specimens of female humanity I ever beheld. If I called her to bring a piece of wood for the parlour fire, she would thrust her tangled, uncombed red head in at the door, and shout at the top nf her voice, "Did yer holler?" One of our working men, wishing to impress me with the dignity of his wife's connexions, said with all becoming solemnity of look and manner — "Doubtless, ma'am, you have heard in the ould counthry of Connor's racers : Margaret's father kept those racers." When I recalled the person of the individual whose fame was 80 widely spread at home, and thought ( f the racers, I could liardly keep a "straight face," as an American friend terms laughing, when you are bound to look grave. One want is greatly felt here ; but it is to be hoped that a more liberal system of education and higher moral cultiu-e will remedy the evil. There is a great deficietcy among our pro- fessional men and wealthy traders of that nice sense of honoyr that marks the conduct and dealings of the same class at home. Of course many bright exceptions are to be found in the colony, but too many of the Canadians think it no disgrace to take every advantage of the ignorance and inexperience of strangers. If you are not smart enough to drive a close bargain, they consider it only fair to take you in. A man loses very little in the public estimation by making over all his property to some convenient friend, in order to defraud his creditors, while ho retains a conipetency for himself. Women, whoso husbands have been detained on the limits for h years exnen;^ but is " H(k said u| " but, may a| ad van! I hal would The auuisii school, money fiction Onc< wife ol master which I elea:anc LIFE IS THE CLEAUING8. 55 I years for debt, w ill givo lar;j;o parties and dress in the most expensive style. Tliisj Avould be thought dishonourable at home, but is considered no disgrace here. "Honour is all very well in an old country like England," said a lady, Avith whom I had been arguing on the subject; " but, Mrs. M , it won't do in a new country like this. You may as well cheat as be cheated. For my part, 1 never lose an advantage by indulging in such foolish notions." I have no doubt that a person who entertained such principles would not fail to reduce them to practice. The idea that some country people form of an author is highly aauising. One of my boys was tauntingly told by another lad at school, " that his ma' said that Mrs, M invented lies, and got money for them." This was her csthnation of works of mere fiction. Once I was driven by a young Irish friend to call upon the wife of a rich farmer in the country. "We were shown by the master of the house into a very handsomely furnished room, in which thei'o was no lack of substantial couifort, and even of somo elegances, in the shape of books, pictures, and a piano. The good man left us to inform his wife of our arrival, and for somo mii'utes we remained in solemn state, until the mistress of the house made her appearance. f She had been called from the washtub, and, like a sensible woman, was not ashamed of her domestic occupation. She came in wiping the suds from lier hands on her apron, and gave us a very hearty and friendly welcome. She was a short, stout, middle-aged Avoman, with a very pleasing countenance; and though only in her coloured flannel working-dress, with a night- cap on her head, and spectacled nose, there was something in her frau'i good-natured face that greatly prepossessed us in her favour. J After giving us the common compliments of the day, she drew her chair just in front of me, and, resting her elbows on her knees, and dropping her chin between her hands, she sat regard- ing me with such a fixed gaze that it became very embarrassing. "'So," says she, at last, "you are Mrs. M ?" "Yea." ■I 1 50 JJFE IN THE CLEAUING.S. "The woman that writes?" " Tho same." She drew back her chair for a few paces, with a deep-drawn sigli, in which disappointment and surprise seemed strangely to mingle. "Well, I have he'rd a great deal about you, and I wanted to see yon bad for a long time; but you are only a luimly person like myself after all. "Why I do think, if I had on iny best gown and cap, I should look a great deal younger and bettor than you." I told her that I had no doubt of the fact. "And pray," continued she, with the same provoking scrutiny, " Iiow old do you call yourself?" I told lier my exact age. "Ilumph!" quoth she, as if she rather doubted my word, " tAvo years younger nor mo 1 you look a great deal older nor that." After a long pause, and another searching gaze, "Do you call those teeth your own ?" "Yes," said I, laughing; for I could retain my gravity no longer : " in the very truest sense of tho word they are mine, as God gave them to me." "You ai'o luckier than your neighbours," said she. "But airn't you greatly troubled with headaches ?" " No," said I, rather startled at this fresh interrogatory. "My 1" exclaimed she, "I thought you must be, your eyes are BO sunk in your head. "Well, well, so you are Mrs. M of Belleville, the woman that writes. You are but a humly body after all." ■While this curious colloquy was going on, my poor Irisli friend sat on thorns, and tried, by throwing in a little judicious blarney, to soften tho thrusts of the home truths to which he had un- wittingly exposed me. BetAveen every pause in the conversa- tion, ho broke in with — " I am sure Mrs. M is a fine-looking woman — a very young-looking Avoraan for her age. Any person might knoAV at a glance that those teeth were her own. They look too natural to be false." Now, I am certain that tiio poor little Avoman never meant to wound ray feelings, nor give me oiience. She literally spoke her Ki. thouj feel tl find ii did nc Hot tAVO Id he ^"1 "W "01 LIFE IN THE CLEARIKOS. 67 I I thoughts, and I was too much amused with tlie whole scene to feel the least irritated by her honest bluntness. She expected to find in an author something quite out of the common way, and J did not come up at all to her expectations. Her opinion of me was not more absurd than the remarks of two ladies who, after calling upon me for the first time, com- municated the result of their observations to a mutual friend. " Wo Ijave seen Mrs. M , and wo were so surprised to find lier just like other people !" "What did you expect to see in her?" "Oh, something very different. We were very much dis- appointed." " That she was not sitting upon her head," said my friend, smiling ; " I like Mrs. M , because she is in every respect liko other people ; and I should not have taken her for a blue-stocking .: at all." |L The sin of authorship meets with little toleration in a new country. Several persons of this class, finding few minds that could sympat).ise with them, and enter into their literary pur- suits, have yielded to despondency, or falleu victims to that insidious enemy of souls, Canadian whisJcy. Such a spirit was the unfortunate Dr. Huskins, late of Frankfort on the river Trent. The fate of this gentleman, who was a learned and accomplished man of genius, left a very sad impression on my mind. Like too many of that highly-gifted, but unhappy fraternity, he struggled through his brief life, overwhelmed with the weight of unde- served calumny, and his peace of mind embittered with the most galling neglect and poverty. The want of sympathy experienced by him from men of his own class, pressed sorely upon the heart of the sensitive man of talent and refinement ; he found very few who could appreciate or understand his mental superiority, which was pronounced as folly and madness by the ignorant persons about him. A new country, where all are rushing eagerly forward in order to secure the common necessaries of life, is not a favourable soil in which to nourish the bright fancies and delusive dreams of the poet. Dr. Huskins perceived his error too late, when he no longer retained the means to remove to a more favourable spot, — and 3* < I i ■! i i C8 LIFK IN TUB CLGARINOS. his was not a mind which could meet and combat successfully with the ills of life. He eiidea\onred to bear proudly the evils of his situation, but he had neither the energy nor the courage to surmount them. He withdrew himself from society, and passed the remainder of his d^ys in a solitary, comfortless, log hut on the borders of the wilderness. Here he drooped and died, as too many like him have died, heartbroken and alone. A sad mystery involves the last hours of his life : it is said that he and Dr. Sutor, another talented but very dissipated man, had entered into a compact to drink until they both died. "Whether this statement is true cannot now be positively ascertained. It is certain, however, that Dr. butor was found dead upon the floor of the miserable shanty occupied by his friend, and that Dr. Huskins was lying on his bed in the agonies of death. Could the many fine pt^ems, composed by Dr. Huskins in his solitary exile, be collected and published, wo feel assured that posterity would do him justice, and that his name would rank high among the bards of the green isle. i TO THE MEMORY OF DR. HUSKINS. " Neglected son of genius ! thou hast pass'd In broken-hearted loneliness away ; And one who prized thy talents, fain would cast The cypress-wreath above thy nameless clay. Ah, could she yet thy spirit's flight delay, 'Till the cold world, relenting from its scorn, The fadeless laurel round thy brows should twine. Crowning the innate majesty of mind, By crushing poverty and sorrow torn. Peace to thy mould'ring ashes, till revive Bright memories of thee in deathless song! True to the dead. Time shall relenting give The meed of fame deserved — delayed too long, And in iinniortal verse the bard again shall live !" Alas 1 this frightful vice of drinking prevails throughout the colony to an alarming extent. Professional gentlemen arc not ashamed of being seen issuing from the bar-room of a tavern Bion, LIFU IN TlIK CLKAKINO^J. 5U t-* § early in tho morning, or of beinr caught reeling homo from the same sink of iniquity late at night. No sense of shame deems to deter them from tho pursuit of their darling sin. I have heard tliat son)e of these regular toj-ors place brandy beside their beds that, should they awake during tho night, they may have within their reach the fiery potion for which they are bartering body and soul. Some of these persons, after having been warned of their danger by repeater, fits of delirium tremens^ have joined the tee-totallers ; but tbeir abstinence only lasted until the rc- cstablishment of their heaUh enabled them to return to their old haunts, and become more hardened in their vile habits than before. It is to be questioned whether the signing of any pledge is likely to prove a permanent remedy for this great moral evil. If an appeal to the heart and conscience, and the fear of incur- ring the displeasure of an oftendcd God, are not sufficient to deter a man from becomirig an active instrument in the ruin of himself and family, no forcible restraint upon hia animal desires will 1)0 likely to elFect a real reformation. It appears to me that tho temperance people begin (it tho wrong end of the matter, by restraining the animal propensities before they Iiave convinced the mind. If a man abstain from drink only as long as the ac- cursed thing is placed beyond his reach, it is after all but a negative virtue, to be overcome by the first strong temptation. Were incurable drunkards treated as lunatics, and a proper asy- lum provided for them in every large town, and the management of their affairs committed to their wives or adult children, tho bare idea of being confined under such a plea would operate more forcibly upon them than by signing a pledge, Avhich they can break or resume according to the caprice of the moment. A drunkard, while under the infiiience of li(iuor, is a madman in every sense of tho word, and his mental aberration is often of the most dangerous kind. Place him and the confirmed maniac side by side, and it would bo diilicult for a stranger to determine whicli was the most irrational of the two. A friend related to me the following anecdote of a physician in his native toAvn : — This man, Avho was eminent in his profes- sion, and highly respected by all who knew him, secretly indulged in the pernicious habit of dram -drinking, and after a I » % I* ■ I ' ''\ mm m. ' iro you took the pledge ?" " Never ," paid the doctor emphatically, " Perhaps the cold waier does not agree with you ?" The doctor began to smell a rat, and fell vigorously to mend- ing the fire. "I tell you what it is, J ," said the other; " the toothache is a nervoiie affection. It is the IramTy that is the disease. It LIFE IN THE CI-EAKING8. Gl may caro yon of an imaginary toothache ; but I assure yon, that it gives your wltb and daughter an incurable heartache.''^ The doctor felt at that moment a strange palpitation at his own. The scales fell suddenly from his eyes, and for the first time his conduct appeared in its true light. Returning the bottle to his friend, ho said very humbly — " Take it out of my sight; I feel my error now. I will euro their heartache by curing myself of this beastly vice." The doctor, from that hour, became a temperate man. He soon regained his failing practice, and the esteem of his friends. The appeal to his better feelings effected a permanent change in his habitfl, which signing the pledge had not been able to do. To keep up an appearance of consistency ho had had recourse to a mean subterfuge, while touching his heart produced a lasting "reform. / Drinking is the curse of Canada, and the very low price of whisky places the temptation constantly in every one's reach. But it is not by adopting by main force the Maine Liquor law, that our legislators will be able to remedy the evil. Men natu- rally resist any oppressive measures that infringe upon their private rights, even though such measures aro adopted solely for their benefit. It is not wise to thrust temperance down a man's throat ; and the surest way to make him a drunkard is to insist upon his being sober. The zealous advocates of this measure (and there are many in Canada) know little of their own, or the nature of others. It would be the fruitful parent of hypocrisy, and lay the foundation of crimes still greater than the one it is expected to cure. To wean a fellow-creature from the indulgence of a gross sen- sual propensity, as I said before, we must first convince the mind : the reform must commence there. Merely withdrawing the means of gratification, and treating a rational being like a child, will never achieve a great moral conquest. In pagan countries, the missionaries can only rely upon the sincerit}^ of the converts, who are edjcated when children in thtir schools ; and if we wish to see drunkenness banished from our towns and cities, we must prepare our children from their earliest infancy to resist the growing evil. ! I: r \l i I 02 UFS IN TUB 0LEARIN08. Show yonr boy a drunkard wallowing in tho wtroots, like somo unclean animal in the mire. Every side-walk, on a niarkot-day, will furnish you with examploH. Point out to hiiu tho immo- rality of such a degrading position; make him fully sensible of all its. disgusting horrors. Tell him that God has threatened in words of unmistakable import, that he will exclude such from his heavenly kingdom. Convince him that such loathsome im- l)urity must totally unfit tho soul for communion with its God — that such a state may truly be looked upon aa tho second death — tho foul corruption and decay of both body and soul. Teach tho child to pray against drunkenness, as he would against murder, lying, and theft ; show him that all these crimes are often com- prised in this one, which in too many cases has been the fruitful parent of them all. When the boy grows to be a man, and mingles in the world of men, he will not easily forget the lesson impressed on his young heart, lie will remember his early prayers against this terrible vice — will recall that disgusting spectacle — and will naturally shrink from the same contamination. Should ho bo overcome by temptation, the voice of conscience will plead with him in such decided tones that she will be heard, and ho will bo ashamed of becoming the idiot thing he once feared and loathed. THE DRUNKARD'S RETURN. r " Oh ! ask not of my morn of life, How dark and dull it gloom'd o'er me ; Sharp words and fierce domestic strife, Robb'd my young heart of all its gico — The sobs of one heart-broken wife, > Low, stifled moans of agony. That fell upon my shrinking ear, In hollow tones of woe and fear ; As crouching, weeping, at her side, I felt my soul with sorrow swell, In pity begg'd her not to hide The cause of grief I knew too well ; Then wept afresh to hear hsr pray That death might take us both away ! LIFE IM TUB OLEAUINOa. 08 ■ "Away from whom?— Alan ! what ill Proaa'ii tho warm life-hopes from her heart ? Was she not young and lovt-ly Htill ? What mado tho frequent tear-drops start From eyes, whoso light of love could fill My inmost soul, and b!\do mo part From noisy comrades in tho street, To kiss her cheek, so cold and pale. To clasp her neck, and hold her hand, And list the oft-repeated tale Of woes I could not understand ; Yet felt their force, as, day by day, I watch'd her fade from life away ? " And he, the cause of all tlxis woe, Her mate— tho father of her cliild, In dread I saw him come and go. With many an 0;Wful oath roviled ; And from harsh word, and harsher blow, (In answer to her pleadings mild,) I shrank in terror, till I caught From her meek eyes th' unwhisper'd thought— * Bear it, my Edward, for thy mother's sake J He cares not, in hia sullen mood. If this poor heart with anguish break.' That look was felt, and imderstood By her young son, thus school'd to bear Ilia wrongs, to soothe her deep despair. " Oh, how I loatli'd him ! — how I scorn'd His idiot laugh, or demon frown — Ilis features bloated and deform'd ; Tho jests with which he sought to druwii The consciousness of sin, or storm'd, To put reproof or anger down. Oh, 'tis a fearful thing to feci Stern, sullen hate, the bosom steel 'Gainst one whom nature bids us prize Tho first link in her mystic chain ; Which binds in strong and tender ties The heart, while reason rules the brain. Mi :i ■ i 1 J > I ■"■---*»*«t¥*»*««it^ 04 LIFE IN TUB CLEAUIN08. Anil mitif^ling 1<)V«? with holy foar, K/ondcrH tho paront douhly dear. ** I cannot bear to think liow tloep The liatrnd was I boro liim then ; But hfl has Blopt hiH last long sloop, And I havo trod the haunts of mon ; Ilavo felt tho tide of passion sweep Through mar- ood's fiery heart, and when By strong temptation toas'd and tried, I thought how that lost father died ] Unwept, unpitied, in his sin ; Then tears of burning shame would rise, And storn remorse awake Within A host of mental agonies. He fell — by one dark vice defiled ; Was I more pure — his erring child ? "Yes — erring child; — but to my tale. My mother loved the lost one still. From the deep fount which could not fail (Through changes dark, from good to ill,) Her woman's heart — and sad and pale, She yielded to his stubborn will ; Perchance she felt remonstrance vain — The effort to resist gave pain. But carefully she hid her grief From him, the idol of her youth ; And fondly hoped, against belief. That her deep love hatri mental to tho poor. The man who knows his duty, is more likely to i)erform it avoU than the ignorant man, whose services are compiilsoiy, and Avhose actions are influenced by tho moral responsibility whl"h r% right knowledge must give. My eirncst wish for universal education involves no dislike to royal rule, or for those distinctions of birth and wealth which I consider necessary for the well-being of society. It little matters by what name we call tliem ; men of talent and education Avill exert a certain influence over tho minds of their fellow-mori, which will alwavs be felt and acknowledged in tho world if mankind were equalized to-morrow. Perfect, unndnlterated I'epublicanism, is a beautiful but fallacious chimera which never has existed upon tho earth, and which, if tho Biblo bo true, (and we have no doubts on tho subject,) we are told never will exist in heaven. Still we consider that it would bo true wisdom and policy in those who possess a large share of tho good things of this world, to make labour honourable, by exalting the i)Oor operative into an intelligent moral agent. Surely it is no small privilege to bo able to bind up his bruised and broken heart — to wipe tho bid him oi indeed, to the mind, nity, is loss struggling poverty. It is im fashion rei "here is an rich man v but high-m tones whicl miug his M who are ric l)crformed, joy. Nor ( vant is a re with less r station enti liates you i an envious, When w crime, wo s the earth. the talents national an and thougl slow, this I effect a gre after eowin I he harves \ ivify and arrives, for after all hi: During t proclaimed and bo insi UF£ IN THE CLEAKINU4. 71 wipe the (lust from his brow, and tlio tears from his ej'cs — and bid liiui once more stand erect in his Mukcr'^ image. Thia is, indeed, to becom/j the benefacttn both of his soul and body ; for tlie mind, once convinced of its own real worth and native dig- nity, is less prone to fall into low and degrading vices, tlian when struggling with ignorance and the galling chain of despised poverty. It is impossible for the most depraved votary of wcaltli and fashion really to despise a poor, honest, well-informed man. "here is an aristocracy of virtue as well as of wealth ; and the rich man who dares to cast ur.deserved contempt upon his poor, l)ut high-minded brother, hears a voice widiin him which, in tones whicli cannot bo misunderstood, re^cjves him for blasphe- ndng his Maker's image. A glorious mission is conferred on you who are rich and nobly born, which, if well and conscientiously l)erformed, will make tlie glad arch of heaven ring with songs of joy. Nor deem that you will be worse served because your ser- vant is a religious, well-educated man, or that you will be treated with less respect and attention by one who knows that yo\ir station entitles you to it, than by the rude, ignorant slave, who hates you in his heart, and performs his appointed services with an envious, discontented spirit. When Avo consider that ignorance is the fruitful parent of crime, wo should imito with lieart and voice to banish it from the earth. We should devote what means we can spar 3, and the talents with which God has endowed us, in furthering every national and benevolent institution set on foot for tliis purpose; and though the progress of impnn'ement may at first appear slow, this should not discourage an}' one from endeavoring to effect a great and noble purpose. Tlaiiy months must intervene, after cowing the crop, before the husbandman can expect to reap ,iie harvest. The winter snows must cover, the spring rains vivify and nourish, and the summer sun ripen, before the autumn arrives, for the ingathering of his labour, and then the increase, after all his toil and watching, nmst be with God. During the time of our blessed Lord's sojourn upon earth, ho proclaimed the harvest to be plenteous and the labourers few; and ho instructed his disciples to pray to the Lord of the harvest ( t \ ' ( ' i i I f I : ■ - ; r 1 I < ma m , •MiMiUKai'Jv^'j 72 LIFE IN TUB CLEARINOK. to scud more labourers into tlie field. Does it not, therefore, behove those who live in a more enlightened age — when tlio truth of the Gospel, which he scaled with his blood, has been j)reachcd in almost every country — to pray the Father of Spirits to proportion the labourers to the wants of his people, so that Christian kmdness, brotherly love, and moral improvement, may go hand in hand, and keep pace with increasing literary and scientific knowledge ? A new country like Canada cannot value the education of her people too highly. The development of all the talent within the province will in the end prove her real worth, for from this source every blessing and improvement must flow. The great- ness of a nation can more truly be estimated by the' wisdom and intelligence of her people, than by the mere amount of specie she may possess in her treasury. The money, under the bad management of ignorant rulers, would add but little to the well- being of the community, while the intelligence which could make a smaller sum available in contributing to the general good, is in itself an inexhaustible mine of wealth. If a few enlightened minds are able to add so much strength and importance to the country to which they belong, how much greater must that country become if all her people possessed thif? intelligence! How impossible it would be to conquer a country, if she could rely upon the united wisdom of an educated people to assist her in her hour of need ! The force of arras could never subdue a nation thus held together by the strong hands of intel- lectual fellowship. To the wisdom of her educated men, Britain owes the present position she holds among the nations. The power of mind has subdued all the natural obstacles that impeded her course, and has placed her above all her competitors. She did not owe her greatness to extent of territory. Look at the position she occupies upon the map — a mere speck, when compared with several European nations. It was not to her superior courage, great as that is acknowledged to be ; the French, the Germans, the Spaniards, are as brave, as far as mere courage is concerned, are as ready to attack and as slow to yield, as the lion-hearte .1 king himself. No, it is to the moral power of her educated . classes tl conio m contend liim ; to ments of ntore caK those wo commerc and rendi If edu( have beer history — inestiniab Yet I wasting t man may comprehe The becL ; tne Latin after life, i dead lettei tliink, to I by tlie rig tnunicate heneive kr chemistry, belief in t woman a Rtjing beyf light ! " W( constant p crimes are ence of b incapable < so. Ue gi happen to from any respecting LIFE IN THE CLEARIKCS. 73 fi I ' 1U3 ith ited classes that slio owes her BU»)eriority. It is more difficult to over- come luind tlmn matter. To contend with the former, is t<> contend with God himself^ fur all true knowledge is derived from lilni ; to contend with tlie latter, is to fight with the grosser ele- ments of the earth, whic'i. -.eing corruptible in their nature, arc more easily overcome. F:om her educated men have sprung all those wonderful discoveries in science, which have extended the commerce of Great Britain, enlarged her capacity for usefiUness, and rendered her the general benefactress of mankind. If education has accomplished these miracles — for they Wuuld have been regarded as such in a more remote period of the world's history — think of what importance it is to Canada to bestOAV this inestimable gift upon her children. Yet I should be sorry to see the sons of the poor omigrar.t Avasting their valuable time in ocquiring Latin and Greek. A man may be highly educated, may possess the most lofty and comprehensive mind, without knowing one syllable of either. The beoi, ye.'irs of a boy's life are often thrown away in acquiring the Latin language, which often proves of little use to hira in after life, and which, for the want of practice, becomes to him a dead letter, as well as a dead language. Let the boy bo taught to think, to know the meaning thorougldy of what he learns, and, by the riglit use of his reflective faculties, be enabled to com- municate the knowledge thus acquired to others. A compre- hend ve knowledrre of the arts and sciences, of history, geography, chemistry, and mathematics, together with a deep and unbigoted belief in the great truths of Christianity, would render a man or woman a liighly intellectual and rational companion, without going beyond the palo of plaii English. — " Light ! give me more light ! " were the dyinj.; words of Goiithe ; and this should be the constant prayer of all rational souls to the Father of light. More crimes are connnitted through ignorance than through the influ- ence of bad and malignant passions. An ignorant man is incapable of judging correctly, however anxious he may be to do so. lie groi)es in the dark like a blind man ; and if he should happen to stumble on the right path, it is more by arcident than from any correct idea wliich has been formed in his mind respecting it. muMmi Y4 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. I.! Tlio miud wJiich onco begins to feel a rolLsli for ftcqnirin- knowledge is not easily Batisfied. The more it kuowy, the less it thinks of its own acquirements, and tlie more anxious it becomes to arrive at the truth ; and finding that perfection ia not a growtli of earth, it carries its earnest longings beyond this worl'l, and s'^t-ks it in communior with the Deity. If the young could once be fully persuaded that there was no disgrace in labour, in honest, liononrablo poverty, but a deep and lasting disgrace in ign< rrnoi" and lir. -morality thvir educntion would bo conducted on tli'' rvist v'iijflfli ri ;d [Ian, and prodiico the most beneficial re- sults, TL^ po ;aj v^ho could have recourse to a book for amuse- ment, instead of > n'ng a leisure hour in tlio bar-room of u tavern, would be more likely to promote the comfort and respectability of his family. Why should the labourer ])o debarred from shari.ig witb the rich the great world of the pa.-;t, and b"i able to rank amongst his best friends the distinguished men ci all creeds and countries, and to feel for these dead worthies (who, thanks to the immortal art of printing, still live in tlieir works) the warmest gratitude and admiration ? Tho very mention of some names awaken in tho mind the most lively emotion. We recall their beautiful thoughts to memory, and repeat them with as much earnestness as though tho dead spako again through our lips. . . *• Of all the heaven-inspired inventions of man, there are none to which we are so greatly indebted as to the art of printing. To it we shall yet owe tho emancipation of the larger portion of mankind from a state of mental and physical slavery. What floods of light have dawned upon the world since that silent orator, the press, set at hberty the imprisoned thoughts of men, and poured the wealth of mind among the famishing sons of earth! Formerly few could read, because manuscript books, the labours of the pen, were sold at such an enormous price that only men of rank or great wealth could afford to purchase them. The peasant, and the landholder who employed him, were alike ignorant ; they could not obtain books, and therefore learning to read might well be considered in those dark ages a waste of time. This profound ignorance gave rise to all those superstitions which ' LIFE IN TUB CLEAi-ilNOS. 15 ill tlio present enliglitened ago are regarded with sueli astouisli- nieiit by tliiuking minds, "Ifow lould ".enbible, good men, condemn poor old women to death for 1 oing witches?" wjv" a (picstiDn one asked mo by my neph. w, a fine, intelligent br^, of eight years of age. Now tliis boy liad rer 1 a good deal, young as he wa.«, and thought more, and was wiser in his day and generation than thef"; „anio pious bigots. Andwliy? Tho boy had read tlio works of moro enlightened men, and, making a right use of his reason, ho felt convinced that these men were in error (although he had been born and bronght up in tho backwoods of Canada)— a fnct which tho great Matthew Halo was tanght by bitter \\>g- rienco. I liave said more on this subject than I at first intcndc ' bn- i feel deeply impressed with tho importance of it; and, lhe;.;?h i confess myself wholly inadequate to do it tho justice ii de^^r.es, I hope tho observations I have mado will attract the at'ontion of my Canadian readers, and lead them to study it more tn idly for themselves. Thanks bo to God ! Canada is a free country ; a land of plenty ; a land exempt from pauperism, burdensome taxation, and all tho ills which crush and finally sink in ruin older communities. While the vigour of young life is yet hers, aijd she has before her tho experionco of all other nations, it becomes an act of duty and real 2^fif'riotisni to give to her child- ren the best education that lies in her power THE POET. " Who can read the Poet's dream, Shadow forth his glorious theme, And in written language tell The workings of tho potent spell, Whose mysterious tones impart Life and vigour to his heart ? 'Tis an emanation bright, Shooting from the fount of Ifght ; Flowing in upon the mind, Like sadden dayspring on the blind ; ; 1 1 Ny< W" J T*'W » rw -)WW- 10 i^li' LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. Gilding with immortal dyen Scenes unknown to common eyes ; Revealing to the mental wght Visions of untold delight, 'Tis the key by Fancy brought, That opens up the world of thought ; A sense of power, a pleasing madness, A hope in grief, a joy In sadness, A taste for beauty unalloyed, A love of nature never cloyed ; The upward Hearing of a soul Unfcttcr'd l>y the world's control, (Jnward, heavenward, ever tending, Itrt essence with the eternal blending ; Till, from " mortal coil " shook free. It shares the seraph's ccstacy." , CHAPTER IV. "Life Jiiith it!) pleasures, stern Dentli liaUi Its fc.ars, Joy hath gay hiuglitcr, and Orief hitter tears; Uejoioc with the one, nor slirinl{ from tlie otiier, — Yon cloud hides the sun, and death is life's brotlicr ! As the beam to the day, so the shade to tlw night — Ue certain Uiat Ileaveu orders ail for tlic right." P.M. My dear reader, before we proceed further on our jourmy, it may be as well to give you some idea of how the Canadian peo- ple in towns spend their time. I will endeavour to describe to you the various sources from whence they derive pleasure and amusement. In large cities, like Montreal and Toronto, the higher classes are as refined and intellectual as ladies and gentlemen at home, and spend their lives much in the same manner. Their houses abound in all the elegancies and luxuries of life, and to step into their drawing-rooms you would imagine yourself still in England. They drive handsomo carriages, and ride fine spirited horses; and if till shape of advantage expensive the newcil so uuiveri f;i.shion b^ it are disc choice of 1 her style tation of t j)rcvailing her conii)] stance wo skirts tha l)ractice li generally, science, a friends, ai You will 1 even in th I never dance wel nmusemoii approved Scolcli re with this Balls gi by 80cieti< Firemen's and lowes to keep tc the floor 1 that presi treated w to the hijj very amu easy freec LIFE IN THE Cl.KAUINUS. 11 t'o- to llid ses ae, scs lt(» 1(1. )8; nnd if tlioy nro oncnmbcrcd with fewer doincstic pests in tlio nlmpo of pampered servtinta, they have, in this respect, a decided advantage over tlieir European friends. Tlioy dross well and expensively, and are very particular to liavo their clothes cut in the newest fashion. Men and women adopt the reigning mode so nnivorsally, that they look all dressed alike. The moment a fashion hecoraos at all obsolete, the articles of dress made to suit it arc discarded. In England, a lady may jdeaso herself in tho choice of colonrs, and in adopting as much of a fashion as siiits her stylo of person and taste, but in Canada they carry this inu- tation of tlio fashions of tho day to extremes. If green was tho ])revailing colour, every lady would adopt it, whether it suited her complexion or no; and if she was over so stout, that circum- stance would not prevent her from wearing lialf-a-dozen more skirts than was necessary, because that absurd and nnheiUthy jtractico has for a long period prevailed. Music is taught very generally. Though very few attain any great perfection in tho science, a groat many perform well enough to gratify tlieir friends, and contribute to the enjoyment of a social evening. You will lind a piano in every wealthy Canadian's house, and even in the dwellings of most of the respectable mechanics. I never met with a Canadian girl Avho could not dance, and dance well. It soems born in them, and it is their favourite amusemont. Polkas, waltzes, .".nd quadrilles, are tho dances most approved in their private and public assemblies. Tho eight ►Scotch reci has, however, its admirers, and most parties end with this lively romping danco. Balls given on public days, such as tho Queen's birtliday, and by societies, such as tlio Freemasons', tho Odd Fellows', and tho Firemen's, are composed of very mixed company, and tho higliest and lowest are seen in the s'\mo room. They generally contrive to keep to their own set — dancing alternately — rarely occupying tho floor together. It is surprising, tlio goodwill and harmony that presides in these mixed assemblies. As long as they are treated witli civility, the lower classes show no lack of courtesy to tho higlier. To bo a spectator at one of these public balls is very amusing. The country girls carry thomsolves with such an easy freedom, that it is quite entertaining to look at and listen I •■ 78 I.IFK IN TUB C'LKARINGH. to tlioin. At a frcciiuwons' bull, sotno years ago, a very amusing tiling took place. A young luindsonio wouum, etill in hor girl- liooil, luul brought her baby, which aho carried with her into the ball-room. On being asked to dance, she was rather puzzled what to do with the child ; but, Kccing a young lawyer, one of the Hltc of the town, standing with foldc'(^ arms looking on, who ran across the room, and, putting the baby into his arms, exclaimed — ''You are not dancing, sir; pray hold my baby for me, till the next (luadrillo is over." Away she skipped back to her partner, and left the gentleman overwhelmed with conl'usion, while the room shook with peals of laughter. Making the best of it, ho danced the baby to the music, and kept it iu high good humour till its mother returned. '' I guess," she said, '' that you are a married num ? " "Yes," said ho, returning the child, "and a mason." ""Well, I thought as much any how, by the way you acted with the baby." " My conduct was not quite free from selflshness — I expect a reward." "As how?" "That you will give the baby to your husband, and danco the next set with me." " With all my heart. IjOt ns go a-head." If legs did not do their duty, it was no fault of tlieir pretty owner, for she danced with all lier strength, greatly to tho amusement of her aristocratic partner. When we first came to Belleville, evening parties commenced at tho primitive and rational hour of six o'clock, but now invi- tations are issued for eight; the cor. )any, however, seldom assemble before nine, and those who Avisii to bo very fashionable don't make their appearance before ten. This is rather absurd in a country, but Folly as well as AVisdom, is justified of her children. Evening parties always include dancing and music, while cards are i)rovided for those gentlemen who prefer whist to the society of the ladie« Tho evening generally closes with a splendid supper, in which there is no lack of the good things which the season affords. Tho ladies are always served first, tho gentlemen waiting upon them at supper; and they never eit down to I ladies hal not be v(| versal onl tion to tli characterl Tho op und only Canada, aiiuiteur Hiul gentl uudience. ]irivate Ik (nirden. them she* ])ourtray. cDurso, th and nature In the s dancing, tributing stock. Tl uliady reti where th( bles to ea fowls, me cakes, wl bottom ol These about an fisb. Th and tho possess g sward, domain, a reuuioi tho man Inar LIFK IN TflK CLEARINGS. 9e ' down to tlio tftblo, "wlicii the cornpnny \h lftr,.,'o, until nftcr tho ladies have rcturnod ti> tho dmwing-rooiii. This cuHtom would not bo very Ht,'rocahlc to sumo Enj,dish opicuros, l)ut it is an nui- VLTBal Olio with Canadian t;ontletiion, wlioso itolitencRnand atton- tiuii to tiio othor sex in ono of tho inuut i>lca8iiig traita in thoir (•haracter. Tlio o|(i)ort,unitio9 of visiting tlio theatre occur very Boldoni, iiud only can ho enjoyed by those wlio reside in tho citien of Canada. Tho young men of tho place Boiuetimofl get up an iunatcur performance, in which they act tlie part of both ladies and gentlemen, greatly to tho delight and amusement of thoir audieuco. I nmst say that I have enjoyed a play in ono of theso I'rivuto houses more than ever I did at Drury Lano or Oovent (iarden. The lads act with their wholo hearts, and I havo soon them slied real tears over the sorrows they were called upon to l»uurtray. They did not feign— they really felt tho part. Of course, there was little artistic skill, but a good deal of truth and nature. In tho summer, riding and boating parties take the placo of dancing. Theso are always regular pic-nicH, each j)arty con- tributing thoir share of eatables and drinkables to tho general stock. They commonly select some pretty islaud in tiio bay, or shady retired spot on^ho main land, for the general rendezvous, where they light a lire, boil their kettles, and cook their vegeta- bles to eat with their cold prog, which usually consists of hams, fowls, meat pies, cold joints of meat, and abundance of tarts and cakes, while the luxury of ice is convoyed in a blanket at tho bottom of ono of the boats. These Avater parties aro very delightful. The ladies 'troll about and gather wild fruit and flowers, while tho gentl'Miieu tish. Tho weather at that season of tho year is suro to bo fine, and tho water scenery beautiful in tho extreme. Those who possess good vc ea sing., and tho young folks dance on th'- green- sward. A day . pent thus happily with nature in her green domain, is one of jinre and innocent enjoyment. There is always a reunion, in tho evening, of tho party, at tho house of one of tho married ladies who were present at the pic-nic. In a riding party, some placo is selected in the country, and •r M 80 I.IFK IN THK CLKAKING3. tliopo wlio aro iiivitvl meet at. ft iixed liour on tlio U|)p(»iiiteil ground. TIio Oakliill pond, near tho villiiRO of liawdon, and about sixteen miles from Bollovillo, ia a very favourite spot, and is one of singular beauty. This Oakhill pond is a small, clear, and very deep lake, on tho summit of a liigli hill. It is about two miles in circumference, and bcinj,^ almost circular, must /■early bo as broad as it is \oi\^. The waters aro intensely blue, tho back-ground is fdlcd up with groves of dark pine, while the woods in front are composed of tho dwarf oaks and firs, which are generally found on these table lands, intersijcrscd with low bashes — tho sandy Suil abounding with every Canadian variety of wild fruits aiid flowers. There is an excellent ])lank road all tlie way from IkOlevilie to Rawdon. The Oakhills Ho a little to the loft, and you api)roach them by a very steep ascent, from tho summit of which you obtain as fine a i)rospect as I have seen in this i)art of Canada. A vast country lies stretched beneath your feet, and you look down upon an immense forest, whoso tree-toj)?, moved by tho wind, cause it to undulate like a green ocean. From this spot, you may trace tho four windings of the bay, to its junction with tho bine waters of tho Ontario. Tho last time I ga/od from tho top of this hill a thunder-storm was frowning over tho woods, and '.ho dense black clouds gave an awful gra^^deur to the noblo l>ict>.re. Tho village of Kawdon lies on the other side of this table land, quite in a valley, A bright, brisk littlo stream runs through it, and aims several large mills. It is a very ])retty rural place, and 13 fast rising towards the dignity of a town. When we first carae 4,0 licUeville, the spot on which Rr \vdon now stands be- longed principally, if not altogether, to an enterprising Orkney man, Edward Fidlar, Esq., to whose energy and industry it mainly owes its eyistenco. ^[r, Fidlar might truly be termed tho father of the village, A witty friend suggested, that instead of Rawdon, it ought more properly to bo called "Fidlar's Green,"' There is a clean littlo country inn just at tho foot of the long hill leading to tho Oakhill pond, kept by a respectable widow- woman of tho name of Fairman, If the pic-nio party does not wish to bo troubled with carrying baskets of pr-^\ision8 so far. they send | dinner for| sible cour head. A dinnel substanliall town. Till not ofter a| of the dair They lik[_ that they ing such m dcwn to a and myself would hav ham, and j pies, puddi to you witl round your tor dainty i liouso consi sometimes it is impost Two lad: those too h They had ( headache, of tho hoii her guests good chee her seat, a "I shouk choose to The po( failed tho irritated 1 hlo " for t ble weakj r. LIFE IN THE CLKARING3. 81 thoy send word to Mrs. Fairnian tlie day previous, to proparo dinner for so many guests. This she always does in tlie best pos- sible country stylo, at the moderate charge of lialf-a-doUar per head. A dinner in the country in Canada, taken at the house of some substantial yeoman, is a very dilfercnt alFair from a dinner m the town. The table literally groans with good cheer; and you can- not oiler a greater affront to you hostess, than to eat sparingly of the dainties set before you. They like to have several days' warning of your'inteiided visit, tiiat they may go " to trov/ih-,^' as they most truly term mak- ing such magnificent preparations for a few guests. I have sat dcwn to a table of this kind in the coimtry, with only Mr. M. and myself aa guests, and we have been served with a dinner that woidd have amj)ly fed twenty i)eople. Fowls of several sorts, ham, and joints of roast and boiled meat, besides quantities of l»ies, puddings, custiirds, and cakes. Cheese is invariably olfercd to you with apple pie; and several little glass dishes are ranged round your plate, for preserves, honey, and ajjplo sauce, which lat- ter dainty is never wanting in a country feast. The mistress of the liouso constantly presses you to partake of all these things, and sometimes the accumulation of rich food on one plate, which it is impossible for you to consume, is everything but agreeable. Two ladies, friends of mine, went to spend the day at one of those too hospitable entertainers. The weather was intensely hot. They had driven a long way in the sun, and both ladies had a headache, aud verj little appetite in conse»iuenco. The mistress vt' the house went " to trouble,^^ and prepared a great feast for her guests ; but, finding that they partook very 8j)aringly of her good cheer, her pride was greatly hurt, and rising suddenly from her seat, and turning to them with a stern brow, she exclaimed, — "I should like to know what ails my victuals, that you don't choose to eat." The poor ladies explained the reosc'\ of their appetites having failed them; bnt they found it a difiicult matter to .soothe their irritated hostess, who declared that she would never go " to trou- hlo " for thout again. It is of no use of arguing against this amia- ble weakness, for as eating to uneducated people ia one of greatest 4* 82 LIFE IN TUB JLEARINGS. enjoyments of life, tliey cannot iamgine how they could make you more corafortablo, by offering you less food, and of a more Biinple kind. Large farmers in an old cleared country live remarkably well, and enjoy within themselves all the substantial comforts of life. Many of them keep carriages, and drive splendid horses. The contrast between the pork and potato diet (and sometimes of potatoes alone without the pork), in the backwoods, is really striking. Before a gentleman from the old country concludes to settle in the bush, let him first visit these comfortable abodes of peace and plenty. Tiio lion. R. 13 , when canvassing the county, paid a round of visits to his principal political supporters, and they literally almost killed him with kindness. Every house provided a feast in honour of their distinguished guest, and he was obliged to eat at all. Coming to spend a quiet evening at our house, the first words he uttered were, — "If you have any regard for me Mrs. M , pray don't ask me to eat. I am sick of the sight of food." I can well imagine the amount of " trouhle " each good wife had taken upon herself on this great occasion. One of the most popular public exhibitions is the circus, a sort of travelling Astley's theatre, which belongs to a company in New York. This show visits all the largo towns once during the summer season. The performance consists of feats of horseman- ship, gymnastics, dancing on the tight and slack rope, and won- derful feats of agility and strength ; and to those who have taste and nerve enough to admire such sights, it possesses great at- tractions. The company is a large one, often exceeding forty persons ; it is provided with good performers, and an excellent brass band. The arrival of the circus is commonly announced several weeks before it makes its actual entree^ in the public papers ; and large handbills are posted up in the taverns, con- taining coarse woodcuts of the most exciting scenes in the per- formance. These ugly pictures draw around them crowds of little boys, who know the whole of the programme by heart, long before the caravans containing the tents and scenery arrive. Hundreds of these little chaps are up before day-break on the oxpootod morning 1 (if nine iJ llowo\i prices, tl are plentl selves ani The Inl town is a| A large church ai tlionsand tlie pit. a few ice spectators composed candles, t odor. The she well Avort re[;etition. can twice the same formers. The last more amu eyes and offered his graceful b sion, he c eye, and 1 mained oi heart,—" of his bu] The sir seven in \ children, people at more sek LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 83 morning of the show, and walk out to Shannon villo, a distance (tf nine miles, to meet it. However the farmers may giumblo over bad times and low l)riccs, the circus never lacks its quantum of visitors; and there are plenty of half-dollars to bo had to pay for tickets for them- selves and their families. The Indians fro particularly fond of this exhibition, and the town is always full of them the day the circus comes in. A largo tent is pitched on the open si)ace between the Scotch church and the old hospital, big enough to contain at least a thousand people, besides a wide area for the performance and the pit. An amphitheatre of seats rises tier above tier, to withiu a few feet of the eves of the tent, for the accommodation of the spectators ; and the wliole space is lighted by a largo chandelier, composed of tin holders, filled with very bad, greasy, tallow candles, that in the close crowded place emit a very disagreeable t»dor. The show of horses and the feats of horsemanship are always well wortli seeing, but the rest grows very tiresome on frequent re[:etition. Persons must be very fond of this sort of thing who can twice visit the circus, as year after year the clown repeats the same stale jests, and shows up the same stylo of per- formers. The last time I went, in order to please my youngest son, I was more amused by the antics of a man who carried about bull's- eyes and lemonade, than by any of the actors. Whenever lio otVered liis tray of sweets to the ladies, it wjts with, an aiiectedly graceful bend ; and throwing into his voice the utmost persua- sion, he contrived to glance down on liie bull's-eyes with half an eye, and to gaze up at the ladies lio addressed witli all that re- mained of the powers of vision, exclaiming, with his hand on his lieart, — " How sweet they a-r-e!" combining a recommendation of his bull's-eyes with a comi)liment to the fair sex. The show opens at two o'clock, p.m., and again at half-past seven in the evening. The people from a distance, and the young children, visit the exciting scene during the day; the town's- peoplo at night, as it is less crowded, cooler, aud the company more select. Persons of all ranks are there ; and the variety of ' ■'» ,f ' ■'imtmfm.si»gamwi-A'^'- ■ 84 LIFE IN TIIK CI.EAKINGfi. faces and charnotors tlmt iiHtiirc exliibiis gratis, nro far inoro amusing to watch tliiiii tlio feats of the Athletes. Theu tlicro is Jianiliain's travelling inenagorie of wild animals, and of tamo darkio melodists, who occnpy a tent by themselves, and a w?ute nigger whom the boys look upon with the same won- der they would do at a white rat or mouse. Everybody goes to see the wild beasts, and to i)oke fuu at the elephants, Uno man who, born and brought up in the backwoods, had r.ever seen an elephant before, 'nor oven a picture of one, ran half- frightened homo to his master, exclaiming as he bolted into tlio room, "Oh, sir! eir! you must let the childer go to tho muiijc- ry. Shuro there's six huge critters to bo seen, with no eyes, and a tail before and behind." The celebrated CJeneral Tom Thumb paid tho town a visit last Bummor. Ills presence was hailed with enlhusiaetic delight, and people crowded from tho most remote settlements to gazo upon the tiny man. Ono jmor Irishwonum insisted " that ho was not a human crathur, but a fairy clmngernig, and that ho would van- ish away some day, and never bo heard of again." Sigiior Blitz, tho great conjuror, occasit)nally pays us a visit, but his visits aro like angel visits, few and far between. His performance never fails in lilllng tho largo room in tho court-houso for several suc- cessive nights, and his own purse. Then wo have lecturers from the United States on all subjects, who commonly content them- selves with hiring the room belonging to tho Mechanics' Institute, where they hold forth, for tho moderate sum of a York shilling a head, on mesmerism, phrenology, biology, i)honography, spir- itual communications, *fec. These wandering lectures aro often very wed attended, and their performance is highly entertaining. Imagine a tall, thin, bearded American, exhibiting himself at a small wooden desk between two dingy tallow candles, and holding forth in tho genuine nasal twang on those half-sujjernatural sciences on which so much is advanced, and of which so little is at present under- stood. Our lecturer, however, expresses no doubts upon tho subject of which ho treats. IIo proves on tho persons of Iiis audience the truth of ])hreuology, biology, and mesmerism, and t'ic ii; Mvidnals lio pitches upon to illustrate his facts perform tlicir par maze of I romol hear t.u I> Mechanic number d ho effectc who wisH way of never giv dollars fo chart; ai great mai trived to lectures a Wo hail (louloiireti burly mai touching ; make him t() Califori to witness and went profess or with him, of tho spc he rose to 1 shall n< tho bench most into human o; words CO That lool before uv that I oir a look all ner, keei LIFE IN THE CLEAUIN08. 85 their parts remarkably well, and often leave the spectators in a maze of doubt, nstoni.slim{j tho bench to a friend of his own ; it was, without exceplion, lo most intelligent telegraphic despatch that it was pt)Hsiblo foi- ..no human cyo to convoy to otlier, and said more plairly lau words could — "You shall see how I can humbug theru ill." * That look opened my eyes completely to the farce that w; acting before mo, and entering into tho s[)irit of tho scene, I must own that I enjoyed it amazingly. Tho blacksmith was mesmerised by a looh alone, and for half an hour went on in a most funny man- ner, keeping tho spectators with their oyos open, and in couvul- 'h »M»*i«M<«».rfWM««j~!*w**iii«.'«aft««a« 86 LIFE IN THE CLEARINOS. sions of laughter. After a while, the professor left him to enjoy his mosiueric nap, and chose another subject, in the person of a man wlio liad locturod a few nights before on the science of mnemonics, and had been disappointed in a very scanty attend- unco. After a decent time had elapsed, the new subject yielded very easily to the professor's magic passes, and fell into a profound sleep. The mesmoriscr then le■•.!' Tho violot ! — oh, what talcs nf lovo, Of youtli's Bwent spring iirc thitiH ! And lovers wtill in RcM and grove, Of thee will chapletd twine. " Mine are tlie treasures Naturo strewa With lavish hand around ; My precious gems are sparkling dcwH, My wealth tho verdant groumi. Mine are the songs that freely gush From hf'dge, and bush, an I tree; Tho soaring lark and spccklei' thrush Discourse rich melody. "A cloud cornea floating o'er the sun, The woods' green glories fade ; But hark ! tho blackbird has begun His wild lay in the shade. He hails with joy the threaten'd shower, And plumes his glossy wing ; While pattering on his leafy bower, I hear the big drops ring. ** Slowly at first, but quicker now, The rushing rain descends; And to each spray and leafy bough A crown of diamonds lends. Oh, what a splendid sight appears ! The sun bursts forth again ; And, smiling through sweot nature's tears, Lights up tho hill and plain. *' And tears are trembling in my eyes, Tears of intense delight; Whilst gazing upward to the skies. My heart o'erflows my sight. Great God of nature ! may thy grace Pervade my inmost soul ; And in her beauties may I trace Tl;e love that forrn'd tho whole !" I. IKK IN rHK CLKAIlINdH. 8!) CIIAPTEn V. TRIALS OF A TRAVELLING MUSICIAN. '* The man that hath not muilc in hiH soul." I WILL »ny no inoro. Tho quotation, tlioi;gh but too true, is too well known ; but it will eerve as tho best illustriitioii I can f,'ive to tlic various annoyances which besot tho patii of liini who is inuHically incliufnl, and whoso soul is in unison with swcot souiuls. This was my case. I loved music with all my heart and soul, and in order to f:;ivo myself wholly up to my l)assion, and claim a sort of moral right to enjoy it, I made it a profession. Fow i)Coplo have a bettor opportunity of becoming acquainted Avlth tlio world than the travelling musician; yot such is tho absorbing nature of his calling, that few make use of it less. I lis nature is oi)en, easy, and unsuspecting; jdeascd with his pro- fession, ho hojics always to convey tho same pleasure to his hearers; and tliough doubts will sometimes cross his mind, and the fear of ridicule make him awkward and nervous, yet, upon tho whole, ho is generally sure of making a favourable impres- sion on the simple hearted aiul generous among his hearers. Tho musician moves among his fellow-men as a sort of privi- leged person ; for who ever suspects him of being a r(»giic? His first attempt to deoeivo would defeat its own objei:t, and prove Inm to be a mere pretender. His hand and voice must answer for his skill, and form the only true test of his abilities. If tuneless and bad, tho public will not fail to condemn him. Tho adventures of tho troubadours of old, if they wero more full of sentiment and romance than the overy-day occurrences that beset tho path of tho modern minstrel, were n(tt more replete with odd chances and ludicrous incidents. Take tho following for examjde of tho many droll things which have happened to mo during my travels. In tho summer of 1840 I was making a professional tonr ii 90 MFR II* TIIK ri-EARTKOfl. UiroiiKli the ITnitod Stntos, nnd luid udvortisod a concert for Ibo oiiMiiin>< evening at tho small town of , and was bunly uocosted, as I left tiio liotel, l>y a tall, thin, laik-ji-diiisical l(»ok- in^' nmn, of a most nnnaisieal and nnpropossessing appearance: "JIdw — do — ye — do? I'm highly tickled to see yon. I s'poso yon are going to give an extra sing here — ain't yon ?" " V'es; I intend giving a concert hero thin evening." "Hem! llow mnch dew you ax to como in? That is — I want to nay — Avhat are yoti goin' to eheargo a ticket?" " Half a dollar — tho nsnul price." ''How?" inclining his ear towards me, as if ho donhted tho sonndncHS of tho organ. " Half a dollar," repeated I, carelessly. " 'Tis tow much. You had better eheargo twenty-llvo cents. If you dew, you'll have a pretty good house. K you mako it twelve and a half cents, yt)u'll havo a emnghcr. If, mister, you'll lower that again to six and a quarter cont*i, you'll havo to lake a tield, — there ain't a house would hold 'em." After a pause, scratching his head, and shufHing with his feet, " I s'pose you ginnerally give tho profession tickets?" " Somotimos." " I'm a It'ctle m your line myself, \lthough I'm a Bhocmakor by trade, I leads tho first Presby'vrrian choir upon tho hill. I should like to have you como up, if you stay long enough." " As this is tho case, perhaps you can tell mo if I am likely to have a good house to-night ?" " I reckon as how you will ; that is, if you don't eheargo tew aiuch." " Where shall I got tho best room?" Well, I guess, you had better try tho old meotin' house." " Thank you. Allow me, sir to present you with a ticket." I thought that I had got rid of him, and aini)ly pai«l him for tho information I had received. Tho ticket was for a single admis- sion. Ho took it, turned it slowly round, held it dose to his eyes, spelt it carefully over, and thou stared at mo. " What next ?" thought I. " There's my wife. Well — I s'poso sho'd like to corao in." " Youl *'ldo| hand ; al one of tl| music ; Then th^ vory fonj '' Peril family til '' Well wo don't Tho Ht him in t I'rcieull; keeper, ' " It's u Tm pow in whenevtj Tho 0^ t form sing for learned waited \ not reas I tho but no mo a V ^ " Yo unxioui Wisl dressii hid int "I night; did. bettei about LIFE IN THK CI.BARINOfl. 01 " You wish 1110 to givy you a double t icket ?" "I dont Cftro if you dew," npiin turning tho new ticket in liin li.'ind ; and, soratcliing UIb liead uioro onrnostly, ho «aid, '' I'vo ono of the HUiartost boys you over seed ; lie's a fust-ralv ear for iiiusio; he can whistlo any tune ho hcarB right straight o^l'. Then there's ray wife's sister a-staying with us jist now ; she's very fond of music tew." '* l*erhap9," said I, losing all patience, " you would icefer a family ticket?" " Well ; I'd be obliged. It don't cost you any, mister ; and il wo don't use it, I'll return it to-morrow." Tho stranger left mo, and I saw no niuro of him, nntil I spii il liiiii in tho concert-rooii , with a Hiiiall family of ten or twelve. l'i("»eulJy, another man and a dog arrived. Says ho to tho door- keeper, " What's a-goin' on here If" " It's a concert — admission, half-a-doUur." '' I'm not a-goin' to give half-a-doUar to go in here. I hire a l)ew in this hero church by the year, and I've a right to go in whenever tho door's open." So in he went Avith his dog. The evening turned out very wot, and these people happened t form all my audience; and as I did not feel at all inclined to HJiig for their especial benefit, I returned to my lodgings. I learned from my door-keeper tho next morning, that my friends waited for an hour and , half for my re-appearance, which could iu)t reasoiiubly havo been expected under existing circum.stances. I thought I hu'l got rid of tho musical shoemaker for ever, but no such good luck. Before I was out of my bed, he paid mo a visit. " You will excuse my calling so car'v," says he, "but I was anxious to see you before you left the tuvvn," Wishing him at the bottom of tho Mississipr i, I put on my dressing-gown, and slipped from my bed whils. he continued hid introductory address. " I was very sorry that you had not a better attendance last night; and I s'poso that ii "unted for your leaving us as you did. We wore all kinder disappointed. You'd havo had a better house, only tho people thought there was a leetle humbug about this," and he handed mo ono of my programmes. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. O "t *i' is 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 U IIIIII.6 V] <^ % /^ / '^a ^^■'j 7 /A Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 2? WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 92 LIFE IN THE CLEARTNG8. It is well known to most of my readers, that in writing tlieso bills the name of the composer generally folIoAvs the song, par- ticularly in any very popular compositions, such as Grand Introduction to Pianoforte. . Henry Hertz. Life on the Ocean Wave Henry Russell. Old EngUsh Gentleman Melodyby Mart. Luther. a a set (I lest you fror " Humbug," said I, attempting to take the bill, in order to see that no mistake had originated in the printing, but mj'^ tormen- tor held it fa?t. " Look," said he ; " Now where is Henry Ilortz ; and Henry Kussell, where is he ? And the Old English Gentleman, Martin Luther, what has become of him? The folks said that he was dead, but I didn't believe that, for I didn't think that you would have had the face to put his name in your bill if he was." Thus ended my acquaintance with the enlightened shoemaker of the Mississippi. I was travelling in one of the western canal boats the same summer, and was sauntering to and fro upon the deck, admiring the beauty of the country through which we were passing, when I observed a very tall, thin-faced, sharp looking man, regarding me with very fixed attention. Not knowing who or what he was, I was at last a little annoyed by the pertinacity of his steady stare. It was evident that he meditated an attack upon me in some shape or other. Suddenly ho came up to me, and extending his hand exclaimed. "Why, Mister II , is this you? I have not seen you — : it seems a tarna- since you gave your cor ort in N tion long while ago. I thought, perhaps, you had got blowed up in one of those exploded steam-boats. But here you are as large as life — and that's not over large neither (glancing at the slight dimensions of my figure), and as ready to raise the wind as ever. I am highly gratified to meet with you, as I have one of the greatest songs you ever he'rd to show you. If you can but set it to music, and sing it in New York city, it will immortalize you, and immortalize me tew." Amused at the earnestness with which the fellow spoke, I inquired the subject of his soug. ;• LIFE IN TlIK CLEAUINtiS. 93 5S0 R. 36 1- 7 h 't "Oil, 'tis des — crip — tivo ; 'tis tre — men — doiw. It will make a sensation all over the Union." " But what is it about ? — Have you got it witli you ?" "No — no, mister; I never put those things down on paper, lest other folk should find them and steal them. But I'll give you some idee of what it is. Look yon, mister. I was going from Syracuse to Rochester, on the canal-boat. "We met on our way a tre — men — dous storm. The wind blew, and the rain came down like old sixty, and everything looked as black as my liat ; and the passengers got scared and wanted to get off, but the captain sung out, 'Whew — let em go, Jem !' and away wo went at tho rate of two miles an hour, and they could not stop. By and by we struck a rock, and down wo went." " Indeed!" said T, " that's very unusual in a canal-boat ; were any lives lost ?" " No, but we wero all dreadfully skeared and covered with mud. I sat down by the en — gine till I got dry, and then I wrote my pome. I will repeat what I can to you, and what I can't I will write right off when I gets hum. — Hold on — ^hold on — " he continued, beating his forehead with the back of las hand, as if to awaken the powers of memory — " I have it now — I have it now, — 'tis tre — men — dous — " " Oh Lord, who know'st the wants of men, Guide my hand, and guide my pen, And help me bring the truth to light, Of that dread scene and awful night, Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu. There was Mister Cadoga in years a-buil, Was found next morning in tew feet mud : He strove — he strove, — but all in vain, The more he got up, he fell down again. Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu." The poet paused for a moment to gain breath, evidently over- come by the recollection of the awful scene. " la not that bee— u— tiful ?" he exclaimed. " "What a fine effect you could give to '!' h ■MiM jgiji ibUiBKsggaas^^i''^, -. ' , ."J!j„.iw. i aa^ 04 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. I 111 that on the pee — ft — ne, hnmouring the keys to imitate the squabbhng about in the mud. Let me tell you mister, it would boat Kussell's ' Ship on Fire' all hollow." Wipiug the porf^piration from bis face, he recommenced,— " The passengers ruslied unto the spot, Together with the crew ; We got him safe out of the mud, But he hail lost his shoe. Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu." I could not listen to another line of this sublime eiViision, tlic passengers who had gathered around us drowning his nasal drawl in a complete roar of laughter. Seeing that I was us nnich infec- ted as the rest, the poet turned to me, Avith an air of olFcndod dignity,— "I don't take the trouble, mister, to rcpen any more of my pomes to you ; nor do I take it kind at all, your laughing at mo in that ere way. But the truth is, you can't comprehend nor appreciate anything that is sublime, or out of the common way. Besides, I don't think you could set it to music ; it is not in you, and you can't fix it no 'low." This singular addres'. renewed our mirth ; and, finding myself unable to control m^ inclination to laugh, and not wishing to hurt his feelings, I was about to leave him, when the man at the helm sung out "Bridge !" The passengers lowered their heads to ensure their safety — all but my friend the poet, who was too much excited to notice the signal before he came in contact with the bridge, which sent hini sprawling down the gangway. lie picked himself up, clambered up the stairs, and began striding up and down the dock at a tremendous rate, casting from time to tin-:* indignant glances at me. I thought, for my part, that the man was not in his right senses, or that the blow he had received, had so dulled his bump of cau- tion, that ho conld no longer take care of himself ; for the next moment he stumbled over a little child, and would have been hurt severely if I had not broken his fall, by catching his arm befoJ assis| conf you thoi of al ued,| tice I and, pres or si LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 95 I the ould it i before he again measured hi.s length on the deck. My timely assistance mollified his anger ; he once more became friendly and confidential. "Here, take this piece of poetry, Mister II , and see if you can set it to music. Mind you, it is none of mine ; but though not quite so good, it is som'at in my style. I cut it out of a newspaper down East. You arc welcome to it,'' he contin- ued, with a patronizing nod, " that in, if you arc able to do jus- tice to the subject." I took the piece of dirty crumpled newspaper from his hrtniit, \ V i irr ii i' 08 LIJf'E IN TUE CLEAU1NG8. " There was Mister Ca-do-zo — in years o-buJ— Next morning — tew — feet — mud — Ho strove — but — in vain ; The more ho fell — dowii — ho got up — ag-a-in. Rl— tu— ri— tu." Ilcro followed a tremendous snore, and I burst into a pro- longed fit of laughter, which fortunately did not put a stop to tlio sonorous bass of my companion overhead, whoso snoring I considered far more tolerable than his conversation. Just at this moment the boat struck tlie bank, which it fre- quently does of a very dark njght, which gave tlie vessel sucli a shock, that it broke the cords that secured the poet's bed to tlio beam above, and down he came, licad foremost, to the floor. This accident occasioned me no small discomfort, as he nearly took my berth with him. It was fortunate for me that I was awake, or he might have killed me in his descent : as it was, I had only time to throw myself back, when he rushed past mo with the speed of an avalanche, carrying bed and bed-clothes witli him in one confused heap ; and there he lay upon the floor, rolling and roaring like some wild beast caught in a net. " Oh, dear 1 oh, dear ! I wonder where I is ; what a tre — men — dous storm — what a dreadful night — not a soul can bo saved. — I knew it — I dreampt it all. O Lord ! we shall all go to the bottom and nnd eternity there. — Captain — captain — whero be wo?" Ilere a child belonging to one of the passengers, awakened by his bellowing, began to cry. "Oh, dear! Some one else is sinking. Captain — captain — confound him ! I s'pose he's drownded, like the rest. Thank heaven I here's something to hold on to, to keep me from sink- ing!" and, clutching at the table in the dark, he upset it, and broke the large lamp that had been left upon it. Down came the broken glass upon him in a shower which, doubtless, he took for the waves breaking over him, for he raised such a clatter with his hands and feet, and uttered such doleful screams, that the passengers started simultaneously from their sleep, — " What's the matter ? is that man mad or drunk ?" exclaimed several voices. ' < Til "W| catcU rii bertl the upoil LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS, 99 The gentleman beneath tlio bed-clothes again gi'oaned forth, — " Wo are all lost. If I once get upon dry laud, you'll never catch uio in a canal -boat agin." Pitying Lis distress I got up, groped my way to tlic steward's berth, and succeeded in procuring a light. AVhcn I rt'turned to the cabin, I found the poet lying on the lloor, with the table upon him, and ho holding it fast with both hands, crying voho- inently, " I will never let go. I will hang on to the last." " You are dreaming," said I ; " come, got up. The cords of your bed were not strong enough to hold you, and you have got a tumble on to the floor; nothing else is the matter with you." As I ceased speaking tho vessel again struck the bank, and my friend, in his eagerness to save himself, upset me, liglit and all. I again upset all the small pieces of furniture in my reach, to tho great amusement of the passengers, who were sitting up in their berths, listening to, and laughing at our conversation. "We were all once more in the dark, and I can assure my readers that my situation was everything but comfortable, as the eccentric gentle- man had hold of both of my legs. " You foolish fellow," cried I, kicking with all my might to free myself. " There is no harm done ; the boat has only struck again upon tho bank." " Where is the bank ? " said he, still labouring under tho delu- sion that ho was in tho water. " Give mo a hold on it. If I can only got on tho bank I shall bo safe." Finding ^t impossible to convince bim how matters really stood, I left him to unrol himself to his full dimensions on tlio floor, and groping my way to a sofa, laid myself down once moro to sleep. When the passengers met at the breakfast-tablo, the poor poet and his misfortunes during the night gave rise to much quizzing and merriment, particularly when he made his appearance with a black eye, and tho skin rubbed off the tip of his nose. One gentleman, who was most active in teaaing Iiim, cried out to me — "Mr. H- do try and set last night's adventure to music, and sing them this evening at your concert. They would make a I/re — men — dous sensation^ I assure you." The poet looked daggers at us, and seizing his carpet-bag, I n* 1 (I ( 100 LIFB IN THE CLEARINGS. sprang to the deck, and from the deck to tlio shore, which lio fortunatoly readied in safety, without casting a parting glance at his tormentors. ^t THE MOUNTAIN AIR. " Rave not to mo of your sparkling wino ; Bid not for mo tho goblet shine ; My soul is athirst for a draught more rare, A gush of the pure fresh mountain air ! " It wafts on its currents tlio rich perfume Of tho purple heath, and the honied broom ; The golden furze, and the hawthorn fair, Shed all their sweets to the mountain air. " It playa round tho bank of tho mossy stono, Where tho violet droops like a nun alone ; Shrouding her eyes from tho noon-tide glare, But breathing her soul to tho mountain-air. " It gives to my spirits a tone of mirth — I bound with joy o'er the new-dressed earth, When spring has scatter'd her blossoms there. And laden with balm the mountain air. \ *' From nature's fountain my nectar flows, 'Tis the essence of each sweet bud that blows ; Then come, and with me the banquet share. Let us breath together the mountain air 1 " ) > I LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 101 no at CHAPTER Vr. TRIALS OP A TRAVELLING MUSICIAN. THE SFNGINO SCnOOL. " Conceit's an excellent f^reatcoat, and sticks Close to the wearer for his mortal life ; It has no spot or wrinkle in his eyes, ■ And quite cuts out the coats of other men." S. M. " lie had a *'(Mlc sadly out of tune, A voice as husky as a raven croaking, Or owlet hooting to the clouded moon, Or bloated l)ull-frog in some mud-hole choking." During my professional journies through tho country, I liavo often had the curiosity to visit tlio singing schools in tho small towns and villages through which I passed. These are often taught by persons who are perfectly ignorant of the common rules of music — men who have followed the plough all their lives, and know about as much of tho divine science they pretend to teach as one of their oxen. I liave often been amused at their manner of explaining tho principles of their art to their pupils, who profit so little by their instructions, that they are as wise at the end of their quar- ter as when they began. The master usually endeavours to im- press upon them tho importance of making themselves heard, and calls him the smartest fellow who is able to make the most noise. Tho constant vibration they keep up through their noies gives you tho idea that their teacher has been in the habit of raising sheep, and had caught many of tlicir peculiar notes. Tiiis stylo ho very kindly imparts to his pupils ; and as apt scholars gene- rally try to imitate their master, choirs taught by these indi- viduals resemble a flock of sheep going bahing one after another over a wall. I will give you a specimen of one of these schools, that I hap- pened to visit during my stay in the town of W , in tho Avestern states. I do not mean to say that all music masters are like tho one I am about to describe, but he bears a very close rnrnw^-.'^' 102 Linn IN TTTB CLKARINOS. rcscmblnnoo to a ^Tont mnny of tho Bftnio calling, wlio practise tlicir jinifcssion in retnoto sottloniontrt, Avlioro thoy aro not likuly to liiid many to criticise their port'ornuinco. I had advortiHed a concert for the 2d of January, 1848, to ho given in the town of W . I arrived on the day aijpointed, and fortunately made the accjuaintance of several pontlemen amateurs, who happened to he hoarding at tho hotel to wliicn I liad heen roconiinended. Thoy kindly manifested a lively inte- rewt in my fiuccoHs, and promised to do all in their power to pro- cure me a fjood house. Wliile seated at dinner, one of my now friends received a note, which he said came from a sinping master residing in a small village a few miles back ot W . After reading the epistle, and laughing heartily over its contents, ho gave it to mo. To my great astonishment it ran as follows : — "My dbae RonERTS, "IIow do you do? I hope you will excuse mo for trou- bling you on this occasion ; but I want to ax you a partic'lar question. Is you acquainted with the man who is a-goin' to give a sing in your town to night? If you bo, jist say to him, from mo, that if he will come over here, we will get him up a house. If ho will — or won't cum — please lot me know. I am teaching ft singing school over here, and I can do a great deal for him, if he will only cum. Yours most respectfully, "John Browne." " Yon had better go, Mr. IT ," said Roberts. " This John Browne is a queer chap, and I promise you lots of fun. If you decide upon going wo will all accompany you, and help to fill your house. " By all moans," said I. " You will do me a great favor to return an answer to the professional gentleman to that effect. I will send him some of my programmes, and if ho can get a tolera- ble piano, I will go over and give them a concert next Saturday evening." The note and tho bills of performance were duly despatched to , and the next morning we received an answer from LIFE IN TUB CLRAUINOS. 103 DO tlio slnpnp TTiftstcr tosny tlmt nil was HkIj^, ftnd thftt Mr. Browno would 1)0 I iipjiy to f,'ivo iMr. J I his vivluiiMo Uiisistanco; but, if possiMo, lio wislied that J conld (louio out on Friday, in8tea M LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 107 " My fiddlo 1 Whcro, where is my fiddle ? I can do nothing without my fiddle." Wc immediately went in search of it; but we did not sncceed in finding it for some time- I had given it up in despair, and, half-frozen with cold, was stepping into the cutter to take the benefit of the old bull's hide, when, fortunately for the musio- maater, one of the strings of the lost instrument snapped with the cold. We followed the direction of the sound, and soon be- held the poor fiddle sticking in a snow bank, and concealed by a projecting stump. Tlie instrument had sustained no other in- jury than the loss of three of the strings. " Well, arn't that too bad ?" says he. " I have no more cat- gut without sending to W . That's done for, at least for to- night." " It's very cold," I cried, impatiently, seeing that he was in no hurry to move on. " Do let us be going. You can examine your instrument better in the house than standing up to your knees in the snow." " I was born in tlie backwoods," says he ; " I don't feel the cold." Then jumping into the cutter, he gave me the fiddle to take caro of, and pointing with the right finger of his catskin gloves to a solitary house on the top of a bleak hill, nearly a mile a-head, he said — " That white building is the place where the school is held." Wo soon reached the spot. "This is the old Methodist church, mister, and a capital place for the voice. There is no furniture or hangings to interrupt the sound. Go right in, while I hitch the mare ; I will bo arter you in a brace of shakes." I soon found myself in the body of the old dilapidated church, and subjected to the stare of n number of very unmusical-looking girls and boys, who, certainly from their appearance, would never have led you to suppose that they ever coulu belong to a Philharmonic society. Presently Mr. Browne made his cUMt. Assuming an air of grert importance as he approached hia pupils, ho said — " Ladies and gentlemen, allow rae to introduce to your notice Mr. H , the celebrated vocalist. He has cum all the way from New York on purpose to hear you sing." 108 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. The boys grinned at mo and twirled their thumbs, the girls nudged one another's elbows and giggled, while thoir eloquent teacher continued — " I don't know as how we shall be able to do much to-night : we upset, and that spilt my fiddle into the snow. You see," — holding it up — " it's right full of it, and that busted the strings. A dropsical fiddle is no good, no how. Jist look at the water dripping oat of her." Again the boys laughed, and the girls giggled. Said he — "Hold on, don't laugh; it's no laughing matter, as you'll find." After a long pause, in which the youngsters tried thoir best to look grave, he went on — "Now all of you, girls and boys, give your attention to my instructions this evening. I'm goin' to Introduce a new style, for your special benefit, called the Pest-a-lazy (Pestalozziy system, now all the fashion. If you are all ready, produce your books. Hold them up. One — two — three ! Three books for forty pupils? T^«t will never do! "We can't sing to-night; well, never mind. You see that black board; I will give you a lesson to-night upon that. Wlio's got a piece of chalk ?" A negative shake of the head from all. To me: "Chalk's scarce in these diggings." To the boys : " Wliat, nobody got a piece of chalk? That's unlucky; a piece of charcoal out of the stove will do as well." " No 'ar won't," roared out a boy with a very ragged coat. " They be both the same colour." " True, Jenkins, for you ; go out and get a lump of snow. Its darnation strange if I can't fix it somehow." "Now," thought I, "what is this clever fellow going to do?" The boys winked at each other, and a Tnurmur of sui)pressed laughter ran tlirough the old church. Jenkins ran out, and soon returned with a lump of snow. Mr. Browne took a small piece, and squeezing it tight, stuck it upon the board. " Now, boys, that is Do, and that is Re, and that is Do again, and that is Mi, this Do, and that Fa; and that, boys, is a part of what wo call a Bcale^ Tiien turning to a tall, thin, shabby-looking man, very much out at the elbows, whom I I :*:i''^ i LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 109 had not seen before, he said — " Mr. Smith, liow is your lose viol? Hav'n't you got it tuned up yet ?" " Well, squire, I guess it's complete." "Hold on; let me see," and taking a tuning-fork from his pocket, and giving it a sharp thump upon the stove, he cried out in a still louder key — "Now, that's A; jist tune up to A." After Mr. Smith had succeeded in tuning his instrument, the teacher proceeded with his lucid explanations: — "Now, boys, start fair ; give a grand chord. What sort of a noise do you call tliat? (giving a luckless boy a thump over the head with his fiJdle-stick). You bray through your nose like a jackass. I tell 3'ou to quit ; I don't want discord." The boy slunk out of the class, and stood blubbering behind the door. "Tune up again, young shavers! Sing the notes as I have made them on the board, — Do, re-do, mi, do-fa. Now, when I count four, commence. One — two — three — four. Sing! Hold on ! — ^liold on I Don't you see th.at all the notes are running off, and you can't sing running notes yet." Here he was interrupted by the noise of some one forcing his way into the church, in a very strange and unceremonious man- ner, and " The chorister's song, that late was bo strong, Grew a quaver of consternation." The door burst open, and a ghastly head was protruded through the aperture. "A ghost! — a ghost!" shrieked out all the chil- dren in a breath; and jumping over the forms, they huddled around the stove, upsetting the solitary tallow candle, the desk, and the bass viol, in their fliglit. One lad sprang right upon the unfortunate instrument, which broke to pieces with a terrible crash. We were now left in the dark. The girls screamed, and clung round me for protection, Avhile the ghastly apparition con- tinued to stare upon us through the gloom, with its large, hollow eyes. I must confess that I felt rather queer ; but I wisely kept my fears to myself, while I got as far from the door as I possibly could. Just as our terror had reached a climax, the grizzly phantom uttered a low, whining neigh. no LIFE IN THB CLBARINOS. i " It's the old marol I'll bo darned if it isn't!" cried one of the older boys, at the top of his voice. Tliia restored confidence to the rest ; and one rather bolder than his comrades at lengtlx ventured to relight the fallen candle at the stove, and holding it uj), displayed to our view the old white mare, standing in the doorway. The poor beast had forced her way into the porch to protect herself from the cold ; and she looked at her master, as much as to say, " I have a standing account against you." No doubt she would have been highly tickled, could she have known that her sudden intrusion had been the means of shortening her term of probation by at least half an hour, and of bringing the singing-school to a close. She had been the innocent caase of disabling both the musical instruments, and Mr. Browne could not raise a correct note without thom. Turning to his pupils, with a very rueful countenance, and speaking in a very unmusical voice, but very expressive withal, he said — "Chore (meaning choir), you are dismissed. But, hold on ! — don't be in sucli a darnation hurry to be oif. I was a-going to tell you, this ere gentleman, Mr. H (my name, for a wonder, popping into his head at that minute) is to give a con-sort to-morrow night. It was to have been to-night; but he changed his mind, tliat he might have the pleasure of hearing you. I shall assist Mr. II in the singing department; so you must all be sure to cum. Tickets for boys over ten years, twenty-five cents ; under ten, twelve and a half cents. So you leetle chaps will know what to do. The next time the school meets will be when the fiddles are fixed. Now scamper." The children were not long in obey- ing tlie order. In the twinkling of an eye they were oflr, and wo heard them shouting and skylarking in the Jane. " Oum, Mr. H ^," said the music-master, buttoning his great- coat up to his chin, " let us be a-goin'." On reaching the spot where we had left the cutter, to our great disappointment, we found only one-half of it remaining ; the other half, broken to pieces, strewed the ground. Mr. Browne detained me for another half-hour, in gathering together the fragments. " Now you, Mr. Smith, yor. take care of the crippled fiddles, whUe I take caro of the bag of oats. The old mare has been trying to hook them out of the cutter, which baa i I 'W z^; I UFB IN THE CLEARINGS. Ill I been the cause of all the trouble. You, Mr. H , mount up on the old jade, and take along the bull's hide, and wo will fol- low on foot." "Yes," said I, "aud glad of the chance; for I am cold and tired." Not knowing a stop of the way, I let Mr. Browne and his companion go a-head ; and making a sort of pack-saddle of the old hide, I curled myself up on the back of the old mare, and left her to her own pace, which, however, was a pretty round trot, until we reached the outskirts of the town, Avhere, dis- mounting, I thanked my companions, very insincerely I'm afraid, for my evening's amusement, and joined ray friends at the hotel, who were never tired of hearing me recount my adventures at the singing-school. I had been obliged to postpone my own concert until the next evening, for I found the borrowed piano such a poor one, and so miserably out of tune, that it took me several hours to render it at all fit for service. Before I had concluded my task, I was favoured with the company of Mr. Browne, who stuck to me closer than a brother, never allowing me out of his sight for a moment. This persevering attention, so little in unison with my feelings, caused me the most insufferable annoyance. A thous- and times I was on the point of dismissing him very unceremoni- ously, by informing him that I thought him a most conceited, impertinent puppy ; but for the sake of my friend Roberts, who was in some way related to the fellow, I contrived to master my anger. About four o'clock he jumped up from the table, at which he had been lounging and sipping hot punch at my expense for the last hour, exclaiming — " I guess it's time for me to see the pee-a-ne carried up to tho con-sort room." "It's all ready," said I. "Perhaps, Mr. Browne, you will oblige me by singing a pong before the company arrives, that I may judge how far your style and mine will agree ;" for I began to have some horrible misgivings on the subject. " If you will step up stairs, I will accompany you on the piano. I had no opportunity of hearing you sing last night." "No, no," said he, with a conceited laugh; "I mean to • ! '4 112 LIFE IN THE CLKARIN08. astonish you by ftnd by. I'm not ono of yonr common amateurs, no how. I shall produce quite a sensation ui)on your audience." So saying, ho darted througli the door, and left me to finish my arrangements for the night. The hour appoirited for the concert at length arrived. It was a clear, frosty night, the moon shining as bright as day. A great number of persons wore collected about tlio doors of the hotel, and I had every reason to expect a full house. I wa^ giving some directions to my door-keeper, when I heard a double sleigh approaching at an uncommon rate; and looking up the road, I saw an old-fashioned, high-backed vehicle, drawn by two shabby-looking horses, coming towards the hotel at full gallop. The passengers evidently thought that they were too late, and were making up for lost time. The driver was an old farmer, and dressed in the cloth of the country, with a largo capote of the saire material drawn over his head and weather-beaten face, Avhich left h 's sharp black eyes, red nose, and wide mouth alone visible. He flourished in his hand a large whip of raw-hide, which ever and anon de- scended upon the ' tacks of his raw-boned cattle like the strokes of a flail. " Get up — go along — waye," cried he, suddenly drawing up at the door of the hotel. " Well, here we be at last, and jist in time for the con-sort." Then hitching the horses to the post, and flinging the buffalo robes over them, he left the three females he was driving in the sleigh, and ran directly up to me, — " Arn't you the con-sort man ? I guess you be, by them ere black pants and Sunday-goin' gear." I nodded assent. "What's the damage?" "Half a dollar." " Half a dollar ? You don't mean to say that !" " Not a cent less." " "Well, it will be expensive. There's my wife and two darters, and myself ; and the gals never seed a con-sort." " Well," said I, " as there are four of you, you may come in at a dollar and a half." the II wit into butt and pret I Whf LIFE IN TUB CLEARINGS. 113 " How ; a dollar niul a harf I I will go and have a talk witli the old woman, and hoar what she says to it." IIo returned to tlio sleigh, and after chatting for a few minutes with the women, he helped them out, and the four followed mo into the reception rt)oru of the inn. The farmer placed a pail of butter ou the table, and said with a shrewd cufl of his long nose, and a wink from one of his cunning black eyes, " There's some pretty good butter, mister." I was amused at the idea, and replied, " Pretty good hitter ! What is that to me? I do not buy butter." " Not buy butter ! Why you don't say ! It is the very oest article in the market jist now." For a bit of fun I said, — " Never mind ; I will take your butter. What is it worth ?" " It was worth ten cents last week, mister ; I don't know what it's worth now. It can't have fallen, nohow." I took my knife from my pocket, and in a very business-like manner proceeded to taste the article. "Why," said I, "this butter is not good." Here a sharp-faced woman stepped briskly up, and poking her head between us, said at the highest pitch of her cracked voiccf — " Yes, it is good ; it was made this morning express-ly for the con-8ori." " I beg your pardon, madam. I ara not in the habit of buying butter. To obhgo you, I will take this. How much is there of it?" " I don't know. Where are your steelyards?" " Oh," said I laughing, " I don't carry such things with rao. I will take it at your own valuation, and you may go in with your family." "'Tis a bargain," says he. "Go in, gals, and fix yourselves for the consort.'''' As the room was fast filhng, I thought it time to present myself to the company, and made my entrance, accompanied by that in- corrigible pest, the singing-master, who, without the least embar- rassment, took his seat by the piano. After singing several of my best songs, I invited him to try his skill. I ■' 'H h 114 LIFE IN THE 0LRARIN08. "Oh, certainly," said l»o ; "To toll you the truth, I am a leetle Burprised timt you did not ask mo to lead off." "I would have done so; but 1 could not alter the arrangomont of the programme." "Ah, well, I excuse you this time, but it was not very polite, to say the least of it." Thcu, taking his scat at the piano with as much confidence tin IJraham over had, he run his htnd over the keys, exclaiming " What shall I sing ? I will give you one of Russell's songs ; tfioy Buit my voice best. Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to favor you by singing llonry liussell's celebrated song, " /^e to roam^''^ mul accompany myself upon the pee-a-ne-forty." Tliis song is so well known to most of my readers, that I can describe his manner of singing it without repeating the whole of the words. lie struck the instrument in i)laying with such vio- lence that it shook his whole body, and produced the following ludicrous effect : — *' Some lovo to ro-o-o-a-mo O'er the dark sea fo-o-ome, Where the shlll wuuls whistle fre-c-c-c ; But a cho-o-aen ba-a-and in a mountain la-a-a-and, And life in the woo-o-ds for me-c-e." This performance was drowned in an uproar of laughter, which brought our vocalist to a sudden stop. "I won't sing another line if you keep up that infernal noise," the roared at the top of his voice. " When a fellow does his best he expects his audience to appreciate his performance ; but I allers he'rd as how the folks at W knew nothing about music." Oh, do stop," exclaimed an old woman, rising from her seat, and shaking her fist at the unruly company, — " can't yee's ; ho do sing iutiful] and his voice in the winds do sound so natural, I could almost hear them an 'owling. It minds me of old times, it dew." This voluntary tribute to Ms genius seemed to console and re- assure the singing master, and, stemming with his stentorian voice the torrent of mistimed mirth, he sang his song triumph- LIFE IN TnE CIKARIN09. 116 antly to tho ond; nn*l tho clapping of linnds, Btfttnping of foot and knocking of beuchcH, were truly doafoniug. '* "W hut will you have now ?" cried he. " I thought you would comprehend good singing at last." " Givo them a oomio song," said I, in a whisper. " A comio song ! (aloud) Do you think that I would waato my talents in singing trash that any jackass could hray ? No, sirrn, my stylo is purely sentimental. I will give the ladies and gontle- ( men tho "/ry Oreen.^^ Tie sang this beantifid original Borg, which is decidedly Rus- f^cll's best, much in the same style as the former one; but getting a littlo used to his eccentricities, wo contrived to keep our gravity until ho came to tho chorus, " Creeping, creeping, creeping," for which ho substituted, " crawling, crawling, crawl- ing," when he was again interrupted by such a burst of merri- ment that he was unable to crawl any further. "Well," said he, rising; "if you won't behave, I will leave — , and make ono of tho audience.'' the instrument to Mr. II lie had scarcely taken his seat, when the farmer from whom I had bought the butter forced his way up to tho piano. Says he, "There's that pail; it is worth ten cents and a half. You must either pay the money, or give me back tho pail. (Hitching up his nether garments) — I s'pose you'll do the thing that's right?" " Oh, certainly, there are twelve and a half cents." " I haven't change," said he, with a knoAving look. " So much tho better ; keep tho difference." " Then wo'ro square, mistor," and ho sank back into his place. " Did he pay you the money ?" I hoard tho wife ask in an anxious tone. " Yes, yes ; more than tho old pail was worth by a long chalk. I'd like to deal with that chap allcrs." I now proceeded with the concert. Tlie song of tho drown- ing child saved by the Newfoundland dog, drew down thunders of applause. When the clamour had a little subsided, a tall man rose from his seat at tho upper end of the room, and, after clear- ing his throat with several loud hems, he thus addressed me, — r -f ■ut^'a'BK! 116 lAFR IN THE CLBAKINOS. "llow do you do, Mr. II ? I nin f^lad, sir, to tnnko your ncqiiftintanco. Tlii.s in my friend, Mr. Derby," drawing another tall man conspicuously forward before all the spectators. '' Fo, tow, is very happy to make your acquaintance. We both want know if that dog you have been Hinging about belongs to you. If so, we should bo glad to buy a i)up." He gravely took his seat, amid perfect yells of applause. It was impossible to bo hoard in such a riot, and I closed the adventures of the evening by giving out " ' Hail, Columbia,' to bo sung by all present." This Jinale gave universal satisfaction, and the voice of my friend the singing-master might be heard far above the rest. I was forced, in common i)olitenes8, to invite Mr. Browne to ])artake of the oyster supper I had provided for my friends from W . "Will you join our party this evening, Mr. BrowDe ?" "Oh, by all manner of moans," said he, rubbing his hands together in a sort of ecstasy of anticipation ; " I knew that you would do the thing handsome at last. I have not tasted an i'ster since I sang at Niblo's in Now York. But did we not come on famously at the con-sort f Confess, now, that I beat you holler. You sing j)Tctty well, but you want confidence. You don't give expression enough to your voice. The applause "which followed my first song was tremendous." " I never lieard anything like it, Mr. Browne. I never expect to merit such marks of pubhc approbation." " All in good time, my leetle friend," returned ho, clapping mo familiarly on the shoulder. "Kome was not built in a dii^^, and you are a young man — a very young man — and very small for your age. Your voico will never have the volume and compass of mine. But I smell the i'sters: let's in, for I'm tarnation b ngry." Gentle reader! you would have thought so to have seen him eat. My companions looked rather disconcerted at the rapiuity with which they disappeared within his capacious jaws. After satisfying his enormous appetite, he washed down the oysters with long draughts of porter, until his brain becoming affected, ho swung his huge body back in his cliair, and, placing his feet on the supper-table, began singing in good earnest, — not ono ' LIFK IN TIIK CLBAHINOR. 117 k> n. Mr. Honp in particulftr, but n mixturo of all thftt had nppoarcd in tho most popular Yuiikeo song books for tlie last ton years. I wish I could give you a specimen of tho sublimo and tlio ridiculous, thus unceromoniously huddled together. Tho clleot was so irresistible, when contrasted with tho grave exterior ot the man, tluit wo laughed until our sides ached at his absurdities. Exhausted by his constant vociferations, the musician at length dropped from his chair in a drunken sleep upon the floor, and wo carried him into tho next room and put him to bed ; and, after talking over tho events of tho evening, we retired about midnight to our respective chambers, "which all opened into tho great room in which I held the concert. About two o'clock in tho morning my sleep was disturbed by tho most dismal cries and groans, which appeared to issue from tho adjoining apartment. I rubbed my eyes, and sat up in tho bed and listened, when I recognised tJio well-known voice of the singing master, exclaiming in tones of agony and fear — "Landlord! landlord! cum quick. Somebody cum. Landlord! landlord ! there's a man under my bed. Oh, Lord ! I sball bo murdered ! a man under ray bed ! " As I am not fond of such nocturnal visitors myself, not being much gifted with physical strength or courage, I listened a mo- ment to hear if any one was coming. The sound of approach- ing footsteps along tho passage greatly aided the desperate effort I made to leave my comfortable pillow, and proceed to the scone of action. At the chamber door I met tho landlord, armed with the fire-tongs and a light " What's all this noise about?" he cried in an angry tone. I assured him that I vioa as ignorant as himself of tho cause of the disturbance. Here the singing master again sung out — "Landlord! landlord! there's a man under the hed. Cum! somebody cum!" We immediately entered his room, and were joined by two of my friends from W . Seeing our party strengthened to four, our courage rose amazingly, and we talked loudly of making mincemeat of the intruder, kicking him down stairs, and tortur- ing him in every way we could devise. We found the singing Nl ?!* 'i»." 'i'*'' !»*J ii V i'|i m i> jiHM i ■LluM i '«»- 118 LIFE IN THB CLEARINGS. I, i'V ■1 * . ^! master sitting bolt upright in his bed, his small-clothoa gathered up under his arm ready for a start ; his face as pale as a slicet, Ills teeth chattering, and his whole appearance indicative of the most abject fear. Wo certainly did hear very mysterious sounds issuing from beneath the bed, which caused the boldest of us to draw back. " He is right," said Roberts ; " there is some one under the bed." " What a set of confounded cowards you are!" cried the laud- lurd ; " can't you lift the valance and see what it is ?" He made no effort himself to ascertain the cause of ilie alarm, lioberts, who, after all, was the boldest man of the party, seized the tongs from the landlord, and, kneeling cautiously down, slowly raised the drapery that siu-rounded the bed. " Hold the light here, landlord." lie did so, but at arm's length. Roberts peeped timidly into the dark void beyond, dropped the valance, and looked up with a. comical, quizzing expression, and began to laugh. " What is it?" we all cried in a breath. " Landlord! landlord'-" he cried, imitating the vo'cc o^ the pinging master, " cum quick 1 Somebody cum ! There's a dog under tlie bed 1 Ho will bite mo! Oh, dear! oh, dear! I shall die of hydrophobia. I shall bo smothered in a feather-bed!" " A dog 1" said the landlord. " A dog !" cried we all. " Aye, a black dog." "You don't say !" cried the singing master, springing from his bed. " Where is he? I'm able for him any liow." And seizing a corn broom that stood in a corner of the room, he began to poke at the poor animal, and belabour*liim in the most uumcrci- ful manner. The dog, who belonged to a drover who penned his cattle in the inn-yard for the night, wishing to find a comfortable domi- cile, had taken a private survey of the premises when the people were out of the way, and made his quarters under Mr. Browne's bed. When that worthy commenced snoring, the dog, to signify his approbation at finding himself in the company of some one, amused himself by hoisting his tail up and down ; now striking LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 119 the sacking of the bed, and now tapping audibly against the floor. Tlicse mysterious salutations became, at length, so fre- quent aud vehement that they awoke the sleeper, who, not daring to ascertain the cause of the alarm, aroused the wliole house with his clamours. Mr. Browne finding himself unable to thrash the poor brute out of his retreat, and having become all of a sudden very brave, crawled under the bed and dragged the dog out by his hind legs. " You see I'm enough for him ; give me the poker, and I'll beat out his brains." " You'll do no such thing, sir," said the landlord, turning the animal down the stairs. "The dog belongs to a quiet decent fellow, and a good customer, and he shall meet with no ill usage here. " Your mountain, Mr. BroAvne, has brought forth a mouse." "A dog, sir," quoth the singing master, not in the least ^ i abashed by the reproof. " If the brute had cut up such a dido under your bed, you would have been as 'tumal skeared as I was." "Perhaps, Mr. Browne," said I, "you took it for the ghost of the old mare ?" "Ghost or no ghost," returned the landlord, "he has given us a great deal of trouble, and nearly frightened himself into fits." "The fear was not all on my side," eaid the indignant vocal ist ; " and I look upon you aa the cause of the whole trouble." "As how?" " If the dog had not cum to your house, he never would liavo found his way under my bed. When I pay for my night's lodg- ing, I don't expect to Iiavo to share it with a strange dog — no how." So saying he retreated, grumbling, back to his bed, and wo gladly followed his example. I rose early in the morning to accompany my friends to W . At the door of the hotel I was accosted by Mi*. Browne — "Why, you arn't goin' to start without bidding me good- iL >*i»aj» i y>ii,ajiiiiiw.>i i iiiu« i i. .' '■■-■■«»■" 120 LIFE IN THE OLEARINGS. bye ? BeBides, you have not paid me for iny assistance at the con-sort.''^ I literally 8tai\,ed with surprise at this unexpected demand. *'Do you expect a professional price for your services?" " "Well, I guess the con-sort would have been nothing without my help ; but I won't be hard upon you, as you are a young beginner, and not hkely to make your fortune in that hne any how. There's that pail of butter; if you don't mean to take it along, I'll take that; we wants butter to hum. Is it a bargain?" " Oh, yes ; if you are satisfied, I am well pleased." (I could have added, to get rid of you at any price.) " You will find it on the table in the hall." " Not exactly ; I took it hum this morning — I thought how it would end. Good-bye to you, Mr. H . If ever you come this way again, I shall be happy to lend you my assistance." I never visited that part of the country since, but I have no doubt that Mr. Browne is busy in his vocation, and flatter- iDg himself that he is one of the first vocalists in the Union. I think he should change his residence, and settle down for life in New Harmony. TO ADELAIDE,* A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG CANADIAN LADY. " Yes, thou art young, and passing fair ; But time, that bids all blossoms fade, Will rob thee of the rich and rare ; Then list to me, sweet Adelaide. He steals the snow from polish'd brow, From soft bewitching eyes the blue, From smiling lips their ruby glow. From velvet cheeks their rosy hue. " Oh, who shall check the spoiler's power ? 'Tis more than conqueriug love may dare ; He flutters round youth's summer bower, And reigns o'er hearts like summer fair. * The daughter of Colonel Coleman, of BelleTille ; noT7 Mrs. EastoD. TV sighi shor glide adva tbe^ watc LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. He baaks himself in sunny eyes, *' Hides 'mid bright locks, and dimpled smiles ; From age he spreads his wings and flies, — Forgets soft vows, and pretty wiles. ** The charms of mind are ever young, Their beauty never owns decay ; The fairest form by poet sung. Before their power must fade away. The mind immortal wins from time Fresh beauties as its years advance ; Its flowers bloom fresh in every clime — They cannot yield to change and chance. " E'en over love's capricious boy They hold an undiminish'd sway ; For chill and storm can ne'er destroy The blos.soms of eternal day. Then deem these charms, sweet Adelaide, The brightest gems in beauty's zone : Make these thine own, — all others fade j They live when youth aad grace are flown." 121 CHAPTER VII. ♦« On — on ! — for ever brightly on. Thy lucid waves are flowing ; Thy waters sparkle as they run, Their long, long journey going." S. M. Wk havo rounded Ox Point, and Belleville is no longer in sight. The steamboat has struck into mid channel, and the bold shores of the Prince Edward district are before us. Calmly wo glide on, and islands and headlands seem to recede from us as wo advance ; and now they are far in the distance, half seen through tbe warm purple haze that rests so dreamily upon woods and waters. Heaven is above us, and another heaven — more soft, 6 v . 'M 'i iS^ ' Bffi *!!! J *' .y ^ssss 122 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. if:. and not less beautiful — lies mirrored beneath; and witbin tliat heavcQ are traced exquisite forms of earth — trees, and fluwei's, and verdant slopes, and bold bills, and barren rugged rocks. The scene is one of surpassing loveliness, and "vve open our heart?! to receive its sweet influences, while our eyes rest upon '*- Avith intense delight, and the inner voice of the soul whispers — God is here! Dost thou not catch the reflection of his glory in tlil.s superb picture of Nature's own painting, while the harmony that surrounds his throne is faintly echoed by the warm balmy wind that stirs the lofty branches of the woods, and the waves that swell and break in gentle undulations against these rocky isles ? " So smiled the heavens upon the vestal earth, The morn she rose exulting from her bu"th ; A living harmony, a perfect plan Of power and beauty, ere the rebel man Defiled with sin, and stam'd with kindred blood, The paradise his God pronounced as good." That rugged point to the left contains a fine quarry of limestone, which supplies excellent building materials. The stones arc brought by the means of a scow, a very broad flac-bottomed boat, to ]?ollevilIe, where they are sawn into sipuire blocks, and dressed for door sills and facings of houses. A little further on, the Salmon river discharges its waters into the bay, and on its shores the village of Shaunonville has risen, as if by magic, within a very few years. Three schooners are just now an- chored at its mouth, receiving cargoes of sawn lumber to carry over to Asmego. The timber is supplied from the largo mill, tho din of whoso machinery can be heard distinctly at this distance. Lumber forms, at present, the chief article of export from this place. Upwards of one million of sawn lumber was shipped from this embryo town during the past year. Shannonville owes its present flourishing prospects to tho energy and enterprise of a few individuals, who saw at a glance its capabilities, and purchased for a few hundred pounds the site of a town which is now worth as many thousands. The steam- boats do not touch at Shannonville, in their trips to and from Kingston. The mouth of the river is too narrow to adrjit a :i arc ttomcil 3, ami ler on, on it:i to tlio glanoo lie site steam- l1 from dijit a LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 123 larger vessel than a schooner, but as tlie place increases, wharfs will bo built at its entrance into the bay. On tlie road leading from Belleville to this i)laco, which is in the direct route to Kingston, there is a large tract of plain land which is still uncultivated. The soil is sandy, and the trees are low and far apart, a natural grow^th of short grass and Uowcring shrubs giving it very much the appearance of a park. Clumps of butternut, and hickory trees, form picturcs(pie groups ; and herds of cattle belonging to the settlers in the vicinity, roam at large over these [dains that sweep down to the water's edge. This is a very favorite resort of summer parties, as you can drive light carriages in all directions over tliis elevated platform. It used formerly to bo a chosen spot for camp-meetings, and all the piously disposed camo hither to listen to the preachers, and " get religion^ I never witnessed one of these meetings, but an old lady gave me a very graphic description of one of them that was held on this spot some thirty years ago. There were no churches in Belleville then, and the travelling Methodist ministers used to pitch their tents on these plains, and preach night and day to all goers and comers. A pulpit, formed of rough slabs of wood, Avas erected, in a conveniently open spaco among the trees, and they took it by turns to read, exhort, and pray, to the dwellers in the Avilderness. At night they kindled largo fires, which served both for light and warmth, and enabled the pilgrims to this sylvan sluino to cook their food, and attend to the wants of their little ones. Large booths, made of the boughs of trees, sheltered the worshippers from the heat of the sun during the day, or from the occasional showers produced by some passing thunder cloud at night. " Our bush farm," said my friend, "happened to bo near the spot, and I went with a young girl, a friend and neighbour, partly out of curiosity and partly out of fun, to liear the preaching. It was the middle of July, but the weather was unusually wet for that time of year, and every tent and booth was crowded with men, women, and children, all huddled together to keep out of the rain. Most of these tents exhibited some extraordinay scene of fanaticism and religious enthusiasm ; the noise and confusion 11 n i? h 124 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 4 U ♦ iii4 :1 ill- were deafening. Men were preaching at the very top of their voice ; women were shrieking and groaning, beating their breasts and tearing their hair, while others were uttering the most fran- tic outcries, which they called ejaculatory prayers. One thought possessed me all the time, that the whole assembly wore mad, and that they imagined God to be deaf, and tliat ho could not hear them without their making this shocking noise. It would appear to you like the grossest blasphemy wore I to repeat to you some of their exclamations ; but one or two wore so absurdly ridiculous, that I cannot help giving them as I heard them. " One young woman, after lying foaming and writhing upon tlio ground, like a creature possessed, sprang up several feet into the air, exclaiming, 'I have got it! I have got it! I have got it!' To which others responded — 'Keep it! keep it! keep it!' I asked a bystander what slie meant. Ho replied, ' She has got reli- gion. It is the Spirit that is speaking in her.' I felt too much shocked to laugh out, yet could scarcely retain my gravity. " Passing by one of the tents, I saw a very fat w^oman lying up- on a bench on her face, uttering the most dismal groans, while two well-fed, sleek-looking ministers, in rusty black coats and very dirty-looking white chokers, Avere drumming upon her fat back witli their fists, exclaiming — ' Hero's glory ! here's glory, my friends ! Satan is departing out of this woman. Hallelujah !' This spectacle was too shocking to provoke a smile. " There was a young lady dressed in a very nice silk gown. Silk was a very scarce and expensive article in those days. The poor girl got dreadfully excited, and was about to fling herself down upon the wet grass, to show the depth of her humility and contrition, when she suddenly remembered the precious silk dress, and taking a shawl of less value from her shoulders, care- fully spread it over the wet ground. " Ah, my dear friend," continued the old lady, " one had a deal to learn at that camp-meeting. A number of those people knew no more what they were about than persons in a dream. They worked themselves up to a pitch of frenzy, because they saw others carried away by the same spirit ; and they seemed to try which could make the most noise, and throw themselves in- to the most unnatural positions, few of them carried the reli- i 5 ,' i', S LIFB IN THE CLEARINGS. i2r> upon i) I gioas zoal they raftnifcstcd in such a strange way at that meet- ing, into their own homos. Before the party broke up it was forgotten, and they were laughing and cliatting about their worldly aftairs. The young lads were sparking the girls, and the girls laughing and tiirting with them. I remarked to an old farmer, who was reckoned a very pious man, ' that such conduct, in per- sons who had just been in a state of despair about their sins, was very inconsistent, to say the least of it ;' and ho replied with a sanctimonious smile — ' It is ouly the Lord's lambs playing with each other.' " Those camp-meetings seldom take place near largo towns, where the people have the benefit of a resident minister, but they still occur on the borders of civilization, and present the same disorderly mixture of fanaticism and vanity. More persons go for a frolic than to obtain any S[iiritual bene- fit. In illustration of this, I -will tell you a story which a very beautiful young married lady told to me with much glee ; for the thing happened to herself, and she was the principal actor in the scene. " I had an aunt, the wife of a very wealthy yeoman, who lived in one of the back townships of C , on the St. Lawrence. She was a very pious and hospitable woman, and none knew it better than the travelling ministers, who were always well fed and well lodged at her house, particularly wlien they assembled to hold a camp-mooting, which took place once in several years in that neighbourhood. " I was a girl of fifteen, and was staying with my aunt for the benefit of the country-air, when one of these great gatherings took place. Having heard a great deal about their strange do- ings at these meeMngs, I begged very hard to bo allowed to make one of the spectators. My aunt, who knew what a merry, light-hearted creature I was, demurred for some time before slio granted my request. " 'If the child does not get rclujion^^ she said, 'she will turn it all into fun, and it will do her more harm than good.' "Aunt was right enough in her conjectures; but still she entertained a latent hope, that the zeal of the preachers, the excitement of the scene, and the powerful influence produced by I A 120 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. w I 4^' tho example of the pious, might have a beneficial clTect on my young mind, and lead to my conversion. Aunt liad liorsolf been reclaimed from a state of careless iudifFerenco by attending one of these meetings, and at last it was determined that I was to go. " First came the ministers, and then the grand feed my aunt had prepared for thom, before they opened tho camimign. Never shall I forget how those holy men devoured the good things set before them. I stood gazing upon them in utter astonishment, wondering when their meal would come to an end. They none wore whiskers, and their broad fat faces literally shone with high feeding. When I laughed at their being such excellent knife and fork men, aunt gravely reproved my levity, by saying, ' that the labourer was worthy of his hire ; and that it would bo a great sin to muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn ; that field preaching was a vfry exhausting thing, and that these pious men required a great deal of nourishmeiit to keep up their strength for tho performance of the good work,' " After they were gone, I dressed and accompanied my aunt to tho scene of action. " It was a lovely spot, about a mile from the house. Tlie land rose in a gentle slope from the river, and Avas surrounded on three sides by lofty woods. The front gave us a fine view of tho St. Lawrence, rushing along in its strengtli, tlie distant murmur of the waves mingling with the sigh of Ihe summer breeze, that swept the dense foliage of the forest trees. Tho place had been cleared many years bemro, and was quite free from st'imps and fallen timber, tho ground carpeted with eoft moss and verdant fresh looking turf. " The ai'ea allotted for the meeting was fenced around with tho long thin trunks of sapling trees, that were tied together with strips of bass-wood. In the centre of the enclosure was tho platform for the preachers, constructed of rough slabs, and directly behind this rural puljjit was a large tent connected ^ith it by a flight of board steps. Hero the preachers retired, after delivering their lectures, to rest and refresh themselves. Front- ing the platform was a sort of amphitheatre of booths, constructed of branches of trees, and containing benches of boards supported h i LIFK IN TIIK CLEAUINCa, 127 free . J> at citlicr cntl by a round log laid lengthwise at the sides of tho tent. Jiehind these rough benches persons had placed mat- tresses, which they had brought with them in their wagons, that such as came from a distanco might not want for a bed during their stay — some of tlieso njcptings lasting over a week. " The space without tho enclosure was occupied by a double lino of carts, wagons, light carriages, and ox sleds, while tho animals undivested of their harness were browsing peacefully among tho trees. The inner space was crowded with persons of all classes, but tho poorer certainly predominated. Well dressed, respectable peojjle, however, were not wanting ; and though I came there to see and to bo seen, to laugh and to mako others laugh, I rmist confess that I was greatly struck with tho imposing and picturesque scene before me, particularly when a number of voices joined in singing tho hymn with which the service commenced." There is something very touching in this blending of hnman voices in the open air — this choral song of praise bonie upwards from the eartli, and ascending through the clear atmospliero to heaven. Leaving my friend and her curious narrative for a few ir^niites, I must remark here tho powerful effect produced upon my mind by hearing " God save tho King," sung by the thousands of London on the proclamation of "William IV. It was impossi- ble to distinguish good or bad voices in such a mighty volumo of sound, which rolled through tho air like a peal of .solemn thunder. It thrilled through my heart, and paled my cheek. It seemed to mo the united voice of a whole nation rising to tho throne of God, and it was tho grandest combination of sound and sentiment that ever burst upon human ears. Long, long may that thrilling anthem rise from tlio heart of England, in strains of loyal thanksgiving and praise, to tho throne of that Eternal Potentate in ^vhose hand is the fate of princes ! " There were numbers qf persons who, like myself, came there for amusement, and who seemed to enjoy themselves quite as much as I did. The preaching at length commenced with a long prayer, followed by an admonitory address, urging those present to see their danger, repent of their sins, and flee from the wrath to come. "Towards the middle of his discourse, tho speaker wrought ! v,:f. i. I 128 LIFE IN THE CLRAniN'OS. himsolf up into mch a rcligioiis fury tliut it bocaino infcctionp, and cries and groans resounded on all sides; and the prayers poured out by repentant sinners for mercy and pardon were heart-rending. The speaker at length became spcochleas from exhaustion, and stopping suddenly in the midst of his too eloquent harangue, ho tied a red cotton handkerchief round his head, and hastily descended the steps, and disappeared in the tent provided for the accommodation of the ministers. His l)lace was instantly supplied by a tall, dark, melancholy looking man, who, improving upon his reverend brother's suggestions, drew such an awfnl picture of the tonnents endured by the damned, that several women fainted, while others were shrieking in violent hysterics. "I had listened to the former speaker with attention and respect, but this man's violent denunciations rather tended to harden my heart, and make mo resist any religious feeling that had been grooving up in my breast. I began to tiro of the whole thing, and commenced looking about for some object that might divert my thoughts into a less gloomy channel. "The bench on which I, together with a number of persons, was sitting, was so insecurely placed on the round rolling logs that supported it, that I perceived that the least motion given to it at my end would capsize it, ind bring all the dear groaning crefitures who were sitting upon it, with their eyes turned up to the preacher, sprawling on the ground. '""Would it not be glorious fun?' whispered the spirit of mis- chief — perhaps the old one himself—in my ears. * I can do it, and I will do it — so here goes!' As I sat next to the round log that supported my end of the plank, I had only to turn my face that way, and apply my foot like a lever to the round trunk, on which the end of the bench had the slightest possible hold, and the contemplated doAvnfall became a certainty. No sooner thought than done. The next moment old and young, fat and lean, women and children, lay sprawling together on the ground, in the most original attitudes and picturesque confusion. I, for my part, was lying very comfortably on one of the mattresses, laughing until real tears, but not of contrition, streamed down my face. " Never shall I forget a fat old fiirmer, who used to visit at my al hi LIFE IN TUE CLBARIN08. 120 log for wn aunt's, aa lio crawled oat of tho human heap on all four.-', and shook his head at mo — " ' Yoti wicked young sinner, this is all your doings.' " Helbro tho storm could burst upon ine, I got up and ran laugiiing out of tho tont, and hid myself among tlio trees to ei)joy my wicked thoughts alone. Hero I remained for a long time, watching, at a safe distance, the mad gesticulations of tho preacher, who was capering up and down on tho platform, and using the most violent and extravagant language, until at length, overcome by his vehemence, ho too tied tho invariable red hand- kerchief round his head, and tumbled back into tho tent, to bo succeeded by another and another. " Night, with all her stars, was now stealing upon us ; but tho light front a huge pile of burning logs, and from torches composed of fat pine, and stuck in iron grates supported on poles in ditfer- ent parts of the plain, scattered the darkness back to tho woods, and made it as light as noon-day. "The scene was now wild in tho extreme: tho red light streamed upon tho moving mass of human beings who pressed around tho puipit, glaring upon clenched fists and upturned faces, while the preacher standing above them, and thrown into strong relief, with his head held hack and his hands raised to- wards heaven, looked like some inspired prophet of old, calling down fire from heaven to consume the ungodly. It was a spec- tacle to inspire both fear and awe ; but I could only view it in the most absurd light, and laugh at it. " At length I was determined to know what became of tho preachers, after tying the red handkerchief round their heads and retreating to their tents. I crept carefully round to tlic back of this holy of holies, and applying my eyes to a little aperture in the canvas, I saw by the light of a solitary candle several men lying upon mattresses fast asleep, their noses making anything but a musical response to tlie hymns and prayers with- out. "While I was gazing upon these prostrate forms, thus soundly sleeping after the hubbub and excitement their di:j- course had occasioned among their congregation, tho last speaker hastily entered the tent, and flinging himself on to the floor, exclaimed, in a sort of ecstacy of gratitude—' Well, . li H ■!i « j >^ 130 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. tlmnk God my task is ended for the night ; and now for a good pleop!' " While I was yet ponderinf,' tlicso tilings in my heart, T fi-lt the f^TJisp of a hand npoii my Khoiilder. I ttirucd with a Hhriek ; it was my aunt seeking mo. ' Wliat arc you doing hcro^ tfho paid, rather angrily. " 'Studying nfy lesson, aunt,' said I, gravely, pointing to the 8loei)er8. ' Do these men preach for their own honor and gU)ry, or for the glory of God? I have tried to tind out, but 1 can't tell.' " ' The niglit's grown chilly, child,' said my aunt, avoiding the answer I expected ; ' it is time you were in bed.' " Wo went homo. I got a sound lecture for tho trick I hud played, and I never went to a camp-meeting again ; yet, in s[)ito of my bad conduct as a child, I helievo they often do good, and aro tho means of making careless people think of tho state of their souls." Though the steam-boats do not stop at Shannonvillo, they never fail to do so at tho pretty town of Northport, on tho other side of the bay, in order to take in freight and passengers. Northport rises with a very steep slope from tho water's edge, and the steamer runs into the wharf which projects but a few feet from tho shore. Down the long hill wJiich leads to tho main street, men and boys aro running to catch a sight of the steamboat, and hear tho news. All is bustle and confusion, Ihirrels of Hour are being rolled into the boat, and sheep and cattle are led otf — men hurry on board with trunks and carj)Ct bags — and women, with children in their arms or led by tho Jiand, hasten on board ; while our passengers, descending to the wharf, aro shaking hands witli merchants and farmers, and talk- ing over the current prices of grain and merchandise at tlieii- respactive towns. Tho bell rings — tho cable that bound us to the friendly wharf is cast off and tiung on tho deck — tho steamer opens her deep lungs, and we are once more stemming our way towards Kingston. While we sail up that romantic part of the Bay of Quints, called tho " Long Reach," at the head of which stands the beau- tiful town of PictoD, I will give you a few reminiscences of y >l I.Il'K IN llliC CLKAItlNOB. lai ' Nortliport. It is a most qiiiot nnd iir'miitivo villftgo, and one might tr;:'.y excilaim witli Mouro — •* Aiul I wiiid if thiTc'rt peace to bo found on tho onrth, The liotirt tlmt irt hiiinblc might hojio for it hero." No gentler picture of socioty in u now country could bo found, than the one exiiibited by the inhabitants of Nortliport. The distinctions, unav(»idablo among jlcrsons of wealth and ('(Iiication, are hardly fdt or recognised here. Kvery ono is a neighl)our in the strictest sense of the word, and high and low meet occasion- ally at each other's houses. Even tho domestics aro ren\oved by such a narrow lino of demarcalion, that they aj)[)ear like mem- bers of one family. Tho Prince Edward district, ono of the wealthiest rural dlstrictn in Ui)per Canada, was settled about .sixty years ago by U. E. loy- alists; and its inhabitants'aro mainly composed of the descend- ants of Dutch and American families. They have among them a largo sprinkling of Quakers, who aro a hajjpy, hos[)itablo community, living in peaco and brotherly kindness with all men. The soil of this district is of the best quality for agricultural purposes; and though tho march of improvement has been slow, when compared with tho rapid advance of other places that possessed fewer local advantages, it has gone on steadily pro- gressing, and tho surface of a fine nndulating country is dotted over with largo well-cleared farms, and neat farm-houses. Ono of' the oldest and Avealthiest inhabitants of Nortliport, Captain , is a fine specimen of tho old school of Canadian settlers ; ono of nature's gentlemen, a man respected and beloved by all who know him, whoso wise head, and keen organs of observation, have rendered him a highly intelligent and intel- lectual man, without having received the benefit of a college education. Ilis house is always open for the rece])lion of friends, neighbours, and strangers. He has no children of his own, but has adopted several orphan children, on whom he has bestowed all the aftection and care of a real parent. This system of adopting children in Canada is ono of great bonevolence, which cannot bo too highly eulogized. Many an r, I 1 1<<( ) mi m i I I ESC mfUnanHM HMMiilHita 132 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. n orphan child, who would be cast utterly friendless upon the world, finds a coiiifoi'table homo with some good neighbour, Mild is treated with more consideration, and enjoys greater l)rivilege9, than if his own parents had lived. No difference is made between the adopted child and the young ones of the lainily ; it .is clothed, boarded, and educated with the same care, and a stranger would find it difficult to determine which was the real, which the transplanted scion of the house. Captain seldom dines alone ; some one is always going and coming, stepping in and taking pot-luck, by accident or invitation. But the Captain can afford it. Sociable, talkative, and the soul of hospitality, he entertains his guests like a prince. " Is he not a glorious old fellow ?" said our beloved and excellent, chief-justice Robinson ; " Captain is a credit to the country." "We echoed this sentiment with our whole heart. It is quite a treat to make one of his uninvited guests, and share the good- humoured sociability of his bountiful table. Yciu meet there men of all grades and conditions, of every party aad creed, — the well-educated, well-dressed clergymen of the Estfl.blishment, and the travelling dispensers of gospel truths, W'itl: shabl'ier coats and less ])retensions. No one is deemed an iutrudor — .ill find excellent cheer, and a hearty w^elcftme. Northport does not want its native poet, though the money- making merchants and farmers regard him with a suspicious and pitying eye. The manner in which they speak of his unhajjpy malady reminds me of what an old Quaker said to me regarding his nephew, Bernard Barton — "Friend Susanna, it is a great pity, but my nephew Bernard is sadly addicted to literature." So Isaac N , gentleman farmer of the township of Amelias- burgh, is sadly gifted with the genuine elements of poetry, and, like Burns, composes verses at the plough-tail. I have read with great pleasure some sweet lines by this rural Canadian bard ; and were he now beside me, instead of " Big bay" lying so provok- ingly between, I would beg from him a specimen of his rhyming powers, just to prove to my readers that the genuine children of f'ong are disting-Jsiied by the same unmistakable characteristics in ©very clime. 1 remember being greatly struck by an overcoat, worn by a LIFE IN TUB CLEAKINGS. 133 clergyman I had the pleasure of meeting many years ago at this village, wliich seemed to me a pretty good substitute for the miraculous purse of Fortunatus. The garment to which I allude was long and wide, and cut round somewhat in the shape of a spencer. The inside lining formed one capacious pocket, into which the reverend gentleman could conveniently stow away newspapers, books, and sermons, and, on a pinch, a fat fowl, a bottle of wine, or a home-baked loaf of bread. On the present occasion, the kind mistress of the house took care that the owner should not travel with it empty ; so, to keep him fairly balanced on his horse, she stowed away into tl'.i convenient garment such an assortment of good things, that I sat and watched the operation in curious amazement. Some time after, I happened to dine with a dissenting minister at Mr. 's house. The man had a very repulsive and animal expression ; he ate so long and lustily of a very fat goose, that ho began to look very uncomfortable, and complained very much of being troubled with dyspepsy after his meals. He was a great teetotaller, or professed to be one, but certainly had forgotten the text, "Be ye moderate in all things;" for he by no uiep.ns applied the temperance system to the substantial creature com- forts of which he partook in a most immoderately voracious manner. " I know what would cure you, Mr. R ," said my friend, who seemed to guess at a glance the I'cal character of his visitor; "but then I know that you would never consent to make use of sucli a remedy." "I would take anything that would do me good," said black- coat, with a sigh. "What think you of a small v.ine-glass of brandy just before taking dinner?" "Against my principles, Sir; it would never do," with a lugu- brious shako of the head. " There is nothing on earth so good for your complaint." "Do you reelly think it would serve me?" with a sudden twinkle of his heavy fishy eyes. "Not a doubt of the fact" (pouring out a pretty large dram); " it will kill the heartburn, and do aiv ay with that uncomfortable H mMtma Kifca^itr 134 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. ■:4 I. feeling you experience after eating rich food. And as to princi- plcfi, your pledge allows it in case of disease." "True," said black-coat, coquetting with the glasj; "stiii I should be sorry to try an alcoliolic remedy while another could be found." " Perhaps you would prefer eating less^'''' said ray friend slyly, " which, I have been told by a medical man, is generally a cer- tain cure if persevered in." " Oh, ah, yes. But, Sir, my constitution would never ^tand that. I think for once I will try the effect of your first pre- scription ; but, remember, it is only medicinally.'''' The next moment the glass was returned to the table empty, and the good man took his leave. " Now, Mr. , was it not too bad of you to make that man break his pledge?" observed a person at table. "My dear Sir, that man requires very little tempLation to do that. The total abstinence of a glutton is entirely for the -ablic." The houses built by the Dutch settlers have very little privacy, as one bed-chamber invariably opens into another. lu some cases, the sleeping apartments all open into the common sitting- room occupied by the family. To English people, this is both an uncomfortable and \cry unpleasant arrangement. I slept for two nights at Mr. 's house, with my husband, and our dormitory had no egress but tlirough another l)ed- chamber; and as that happened to be occupied on tlio lirst night by a clergyman, I had to wait for an hour, after my husband w"s up and down stairs rejoicing in tlio fresh air of a lovely summer morning, before I could escape from my cham- ber, — my neighbour, who was young and very comely, taking a long time for liis prayers,-as the business of the toilet. My husband laughed very heartily at my imp: isonmcnt, a;-; he termed it; but tlic next day I had the laugh against him, for our sleeping neighbours happened to be a middle-aged Quaker, witli a very sickly delicate wife. I, of course, was forced to go to bed when s.'-.e did, or be obliged to pass through her chamber after brother Jonathan had retired for the niglit. This being by no means desirable, I left a very interesting argument, iu which ray LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 185 husband, tlio Quaker, and tho poet were fighting an animated battle on reform principles, against the clergyman and my very much respected Tory host. How they got on 1 don't know, for the debate was at ics height when I was obliged to beat my retreat to bed. After an hour or so I heard Jonathan tumVlc up stairs to bed, and while undressing lie made the following very innocent remark to his wife, " Truly, Hannah, I fear that I have used too many words to-night. My uncle is a man of many words, and one is apt to forget tho rules of prudence when arguing with him." If tho use of many words was looked upon as a serious trans- gression by honest Jonathan, my Imsband, my friend, and tho poet, must have been very guilty men, for they continued their argument imtil the "sma' hours ayont tlie t'val." My husband had to pass through the room occupied by the Friends, in order to reach mine, but he put a bold face upon the matter, and plunged at once through tho difficulty, the Quaker's nose giving unmistakable notice that he was in the land of Nod. The pale sickly woman just opened her dreamy black eyes, but hid them instantly beneath tho bed-clothes, and the pa;^sage, not of arms, but of the bed-chamber, was won. The next morning we had to rise early to take the boat, and Jonathan v/as up by the dawn of day ; so that I went through as bold as a lion, and was busily employed in discussing an excellent breakfast, while my poor partner was sitting impa- tiently nursing his appetite at tlio foot of his bed, and wishing the pale Quakeress across the bay. Tlie steamer was in sight before ho was able to join us at the 1 'reakfast-table. I l)ad now my revenge, and teased him all the way homo on lung kei)t a prisoner, with only a sickly woman for a jailor. A young lady gave mo an account of a funeral slie witnessed in this primitivo village, which may not be uninteresting to my English readers, as a picture of some of the customs of a new country. The deceased was an old and very respectable resident in tho township ; and as the Canadians delight in large funerals, he waa followed +0 his last home by nearly all the residents for miles around. ;.!)? [ I ■f' III! [ *mm 136 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. I f The ueo of tho hoarse is not known in ninil districts, Jind, indeed, is seldom used in towns or cities lierc. The corpse is generally carried to tho grave, the bearers being chosen iVoin among tlie gentlemen of most note in the ncighboni hood, wlio, to the honour of the country be it spoken, never refuse to act on these mournful occasions. These walking funerals are far more imposing and affecting spectacles than the hearse with its funeral plumes; and the simple fact of friends and neighbours conveying a departed brother to his long home, has a more solemn and touching effect upon the mind, than the train of hired mourners and empty state-carriages. When a body is brought from a distance for interment, it is conveyed in a wagon, if in summer, spring, or autumn, and on a sleigh during the winter season, and is attended to the grave by all the respectable yeomen in the township. I cannot resist the strong temptation of digressing from my present subject, in order to relate a very affecting instance I witnessed at one of these funerals of the attachment of a dog to his deceased master, which drew tears from my eyes, and from tho eyes of my children. The body of a farmer had been brought in a wagon from one of the back townships, a distance of twenty or thirty miles, and was, as usual in such cases, attended by a long train of country equipages. My house fronted the churchyard, and from the win- dows you could witness the whole of the funeral ceremonial, and hear the service pronounced over the grave. When the coffin was lifted by the stalwart sons of tho deceased from the wagon, and the procession formed^ to carry it into the church, I observed a large, buff Flemish dog fall into tho ranks of the mourners, and follow them into the sacred edifice, keeping as near the coffin as those about it would permit him. After the service in tho cliurch was ended, the creature persevered in following the be- loved remains to the grave. When the crowd dispersed, the faithful animal retired to some distance, and laid himself quietly down upon a grave, until the sexton had finished his mournful task, and the last sod was placed upon tho fresh heap that had closed for ever over tho form he loved. When tho man retired, the dog proceeded to the spot, walked ' . LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 13Y t carefully round it, smelt the earth, lifted his head, and uttered the most unearthly howls. lie then endeavoured to disinter the body, by digging a large hole at one end of the grave; but find- ing that ho could not effect his purpose, ho stretched himself at full length over it, as if to guard the spot, with his hea'fl buried between his fore-paws, his w^holo appearance betokening the most intense dejection. All that day and night, and the next day and night, he never quitted his post for an instant, at intervals smelling the earth, and uttering those mournful, heart-rending cries. My boys took liim bread and meat, and tried to coax him from the grave ; but Ije rejected the food and their caresses. The creature appeared wasted and heart-broken with grief. Towards noon of the third day, the eldest son of his late master came in search of him ; and the young man seemed deeply affected by this instance of the dog's attachment to his father. Even Ma well-known voice failed to entice him from the grave, and he wacj obliged to bring a collar and chain, and lift him by force into his wagon, to get liim from his post. Oh, human love ! is thy memory and thy faith greater than the attachment of this poor, and, as we term him, unreasoning brute, to his dead master? His grief made an impression on my mind, and on that of my children, which will never be forgotten. But to return to the village funeral. The body in this case was boi ne to the church by the near relatives of the deceased ; and a clergyman of the establishment delivered a funeral sermon, in which ho enumerated the good qualities of the departed, his long residerce among them, and described the trials and hard- ships he had encountered as a first settler in that district, while it was yet in the wilderness, lie extolled his conduct as a good citizen, a faithful Christian, and a public-spirited man. His sermon was a very complete piece of rural biography, very curious and grapliic in its way, and was listened to with the deepest attention by the persoiis assembled. When the discourse was concluded, and the blessing pronounced, one of the sons of the deceased rose and informed the persons present, tliat if any one wished to take a last look of the dear old man, now was the time. r« 138 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS, He then led the way to tlie aisle, ia wliich the coffin stood upon the trcssels, and opening a small lid in the top, revealed to the astonishment of my yonng friend the pale, ghastly face of the dead. Almost every person present touched either the face, hands, or brow of the deceased ; and after their curiosity had been fully satisfied, the procession followed the remains to tla-ir last resting-place. This part of the ceremony concluded, the inditlerent spectators dispersed to their respective homes, whilo the friends and relations of the dead man returned to dine at tlie house of one of his sons, my friend making one of the party. In solemn state the mourners discussed the merits of an ex • cellent dinner, — the important business of eating being occasion- ally interrupted by remarks upon the appearance of the corpse, his age, the disease of which he died, the probable division of his property, and the merits of the funeral discourse. This was done la sucli a business-like, matter-of-fact manner, that my friend was astonished how the blood relations of the deceased could join in these remarks. After the great business of eating was concluded, the spirits of the party began to flag. Tlie master of the house perceiving how matters were going, left the room, and soon returned with a servant bearing a tray with plates and forks, and a large dish of hickory nuts. The mourners di'ied their tears, and set seri- ously to work to discuss the nuts, and while deoi)ly engaged with their mouse-like employment, forgot for a whilo their sorrow iVn* the dead, continuing to keep up their spirits until the announce- ment of tea turned their thoughts into a new channel. By the time all the rich pies, cakes, and preserves were eaten, their feelings seemed to have subsided into their accustomed every- day routine. It is certain that death is looked upon by many Canadians more as a matter of business, and a change of property into other hands, than as a real domestic calamity. I have heard people talk of the approaching dissolution of their nearest ties, with a calm philosophy which I never could comprehend. "Mother is old and dehcate; we can't expect her to last long," says one. " My brother's death has been looked for these several months past ; you know he's in the consumption." My husband asked I I i LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. 139 - tho son of a rospectablo farmer, for whom lie entertained fln esteem, how his father was, for ho liad not seen liim for some time ? "I gness," was tlie reply, " that the old man's fixiug for the other world." Another young man, being asked by my friend. Captain , to ppend the evening at his house, replied — "No, can't — much obliged; but I'm afear'd that grandfather will give the last kicks while I'm away." Canadians flock in crowds to visit tho dying, and to gazo upon the dead. A doctor told me that being called into tho country to visit a very sick man, he was surprised on finding the Vs ifo of liis patient sitting alone before the fire in tho lower room, smok- ing a pipe. Ho naturally inquired if her husband was better ? "Oh, no, sir, far from that; he is dying!" " Dying ! and you here ?" " I can't help that, sir. Tlie room is so crowded with tho neighbours, that I can't get in to wait upon him." "Follow me," said the doctor. " I'll soon make a clearance for you." On ascending tho stairs that led to the npar^mont of the sick man, ho found them crowded Avith pooi)lo struggling to get in, to take a peep at the poor man. It was only by telling them that he was the doctor, tliat he forced his way to the bedf^ide. Ho found his patient in a high fever, greatly augmented by tho bustle, confusion, and heat, occasioned by so many peoplo round him. With great difficulty he cleared the room of these intruders,' and told tho brother of his patient to keep every one but the sick man's wi.c out of tlie house. The brother followed tho doctor's advice, and the man cheated the curiosity of tho death-seekers, and recovered. The Canadians spend a great deal of money upon their dead. An old lady told me that her nei)hcw, a very largo farmer, who had the misfortune to lose his wife in childbed, had laid out a great deal of money — a little fortune she termed it — on her grave clothes. " Oh, my dear," she said, "it is a thousand pities that you did not go and see her before she was buried. She was dressed so expensively, and she made such a beautiful corpse ! Her cap was of real thread lace, trimmed with white French i:* 140 LIFE IN TUB CLEARINGS. ribbons, and her linen the finest that could bo bonght in the country." The more ostentatious the display of grief for the dead, the less I have always found of the reality. I heard two young ladies, who had recently lost a mother, not more than sixteen years older than the eldest of the twain, lamenting most patheti- cally that they could not go to a public ball, because they were in mourning for ma' I Oh, what a pitiful farce is this, of wear- ing mourning for the dead ! But as I have a good deal to say to sensible people on that subject, I will defer my long lecture uutil the next chapter. RANDOM THOUGHTS. " When is Youth's gay heart the Hghtest ?— "Wlien the torch of health burns brightest, And the soul's rich banquet lies In air and ocean, earth and okien ; Till the honied cup of pleasure Overflows with mental treasure. " When is Love's sweet dream the sweetest? — When ". kindred heart thou meetest, Unpolluted with the strife — The selfish aims that tarnish life ; Ere the scowl of care has faded Ths shining chaplet Fancy braided, And emotions pure and high Swell the heart and fill the eye ; Hich revealings of a mind Within a loving breast enshrined. To thine own fond bosom plighted, In affection's bonds united : The Hober joys of after years Are nothing to those smiles and fears. " When is Sorrow's sting the strongest ? — When friends grow cold we've loved the longest, And the bankrupt heart would borrow Treacherous hopes to cheat the morrow ; Dreams of bliss by reason banish'd, ^ in tlio d, tlio young ixteen itheti- were wear- say to I until ^ LIFE IN TUB CLKAKINaS. Early joya that quickly vaniah'd And the treasured past appears Only to augment our tears ; Wh -ri, within itself retreating, The spirit owns life's joys are fleeting, Yet, racked with anxious doubts and fears, Trusts, Blindly trusts to future years. " Oh, this is grief, the preacher saith, — The world's dark woe that worketh death! Yet, oft beneath its influence bowed, A beam of hope will burst the cloud. And heaven's ctlestial shore appears Slow rising o'er the tide of years. Guiding the spirit's darkling way Through thorny paths to endless day. Then the toils of life are done. Youth and ago are both as one : Sorrow never more can sting, Neglecc or pain the bosom wring ; And the joys bless'd spirits prove Far exceeds all earthly love !" 141 ' 142 LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS. CIIAPTEll VIII. " What ia Death ?— my sister say." " Ask not, brotlier, brealhiiiK clay. Ask tho earth on which wc tread, That silent empire of the deatl. Ask the sea— Its myriad waves, Living, leap o'er countless graves!" " Earth and ocean answer not. Life is in their dei)ths, forgot." Ask yon pale extended form, Unconscic'is of the coming storm, That breathed and spake an hour ago, Of heavenly bliss and penal woe ; — AVithin yon shrouded figure lies " The mystery of mysteries !" 8. M. Am(1xo tlio many abpurd customs tliat the sanction of time atul tlio arbitrary laws of society liave rendered indispensable, there is not one that is so much abused, and to which mankind so fondly clings, as that of icearing mourning for the dead! — from tho ostentatious public mourning appointed by {governments for the loss of their rulers, down to the jdaiu black badge, Avurn by tho liumblest peasant for the death of parent or child. To attempt to raise one feeble voice against a practice sanc- tioned by all nations, and hallowed by the most solemn religious rites, appears almost sacrilegious. There is something so beauti- ful, so i)oetical, so sacred, in this outward sign of a deep and heartlldt sorrow, that to deprive death of bis sable habiliments — the melancholy hearse, funeral plumes, sombre pall, and long array of drooping night-clad mourners, together with the awful clangor of tho dolefid bell — would rob the stern necessity of our nature of half its terrors, and tend greatly to destroy that reli- gious dread which is so imposing, and which allbrds such a solemn lesson to the living. Alas ! Where is the need of all this black jjarade ? Is it not a reproach to Him, who, in his wisdom, appointed death to pass upon all men ? "Were the sentence confined to the human species, we might have more reason for these extravagant demonstrations LIFS IN TUB OLBAUINGS. 148 of griof; but in ovory object nrouiul us wo see inscribed Iho mysterious law of clinngo Tlio very luouiitaius crutublo and decay Av 1th years ; the gieat sea shrink.s and grows again ; tlio lofty forest tree, that has drank the dews of heaven, langhc*! in the buuliglit and shook itjij branches at a thousand stornis, yiolds to tlio same inscrutable destiny, and bows its tall forehead to tlio dust. Life lives upon death, and death reproduces life, through end- less circles of being, from the proud tyrant nuin dt)wn to tho blind worm his iron Iieel tramides in tho earth. Tlien wheri'foro should wo hang out this black banner for thoso who arc beyond the laws of change and chance? " Yea, they have fiiiish'd : For them there is no longer any future. No evil hoir knocks at the iloor With tidings of ml.shap — far off are they, Beyond desire or fear." It is the dismal adjuncts of death which have invested it with those superstitious terrors that >vo would fain see removed. Tho gloom arising from these melancholy pjigoants forms a black cloud, whose denso shadow obscures the light of life to tho living. And why, we ask, should death bo invested with such horror? Death in itself is not dreadful; it is but the change of one mode of being for another — tho breaking forth of tho av liiged Koul from its earthly chrysalis; or, as an old Latiii poet has so happily described it — •' Thus life fur ever runs its endless race, Death as a line which but (Uvides th'3 Fpacc — A stop which can hut for a moment l.ut, A point between the future and the 'past? Nature presents in all her laws such a beautiful and wonder- ful harmony, that it is as impossible for death to produce discord among them, as for night to destroy, by tho intervention of its shadow, the splendour of tho coming day. Were men taught from infancy to regard death as a natural consequence, a fixed law of their being, instead as an awful punishment for sin — 144 LIFE IN THE CLKAKINOS. Iif'-f fts the friend and benefactor of mankind, not the roniorsoloss tyrant and persecutor — to die would no longer ho considered an evil. Lot this hideous skeleton ho hanished into darkness, and replaced by a benignant angel, -wiping away all tears, healing nil pain, burying in oblivion all sorrow and care, calming every turbulent passion, and restoring man, reconciled to his Maker, to ft state of purity and peace ; young and old would then go forth to meet him with lighted torches, and hail his approach witli songs of thanksgiving and welcome. And this is really the case with all but the desperately Avickcd, who show that they despise tho magnificent boon of life by the bad use they make of it, by their blasphemous defiance of God and good, and their unwillingness to bo renewed in his imago. Tho death angel is generally met with more calnmess by tho dying than by surviving friends. By tho former, tho dreaded enemy is hailed as a messenger of peace, and they sink tranquilly into his arms, with a smile upon their li[)8. Tho death of tho Christian is a beautiful triumph over tho fears of life. In Ilim who conquered death, and led captivity captive, he finds tho fruition of his being, tho eternal blessedness pro- mised to him in tho Gospel, which places him beyond tho wants and woes of time. The death of such a man should be celebi ated as a sacred festival, not lamented as a dreary execution, — as tho era of a now birth, not the extinction of being. It is true that death is a profound sleep, from which no ono can awaken to tell bis dreams. But why on that account should we doubt that it is less blessed than its t«vin brother, whoso resomblp,nce it bears, and whose presence we all sedulously court? Invest sleep, however, with the same dismal garb; let your bed be a coflSn, your canopy a pall, your night-dress a shroud; let the sobs of mourners, and the tolling of bells lull you to repose. — and few persons would willingly, or tranquilly, close their eyes to sleep. And then, this absurd fashion of wearing black for months and years for tho dead ; let us calmly consider the philosophy of tho thing, its use and abuse. Does it confer any benefit on the dead ? Does it aflFord any consolation to the living ? Morally or physic- ally, does it produce the least good ? Does it soften ono regretful I i, LIKK IN TIIU CLUAKIKG8. 14.5 pftnpr, or dry ono bitter tcnr, or rn.iko tlio woftrcrs w!(M)r or better? If it does not produce any ultiiimto beiietit, it sliould bo nt otico discarded as a Huporstitious relic of more barbarous times, Avbeii men could not gazo on tbo mniple, unveile