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 I 
 
 
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 THE 
 
 CANADIAlf ORUSOES. 
 
 BT 
 
 CATHARmE PARR TRAILL, 
 
 W/T«i, 2,r i^Jl ijSTER. AO^J^S STJUCMluu^a. 
 
 illuatrattfe tg ^itiua. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 CROSBY AND NICHOLS. 
 
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PREFACE. 
 
 It will be acknowledged that human Bym- 
 pathy irresistibly responds to any narrative, 
 founded on truth, which graphically describes 
 the struggles of isolated human beings to ob- 
 tain the aliments of life. The distinctions of 
 pride and rank sink into nought when the mind 
 is engaged in the contemplation of the inevi. 
 table consequences of the assaults of the 
 gaunt enemies, cold and hunger. Accidental 
 circumstances have usually given suflScient ex- 
 perience of their pangs, even to the most for- 
 tunate, to make them own a fellow-feeling 
 with those whorr the chances of shipwreck, 
 war, wandering, or revolutions have cut oflf 
 from home and hearth, and the requisite sup. 
 plies; not only from the thousand artificial 
 comforts which civilized society classes among 
 the necessaries of life, but actually from a 
 suSScieacy of '' daily bread." 
 
m PREFACE. ' 
 
 Where is tlie man, woman, or child who has 
 not sympathized with the poor seaman before 
 the mast, Alexander Selkirk, typified by the 
 genius of Defoe as his inimitable Crusoe, whose 
 name (although one by no means uncommon in 
 middle life in the east of England) has become 
 synonymous for all who build and plant in a 
 wilderness, " cut off from humanity's reach i 
 Oar insular situation has chiefly drawn the 
 attention of the inhabitants of Great Britam to 
 casualties by sea, and the deprivations of indi- 
 viduals wrecked on some desert coast ; but it is 
 by no means ger.rally known that scarcely a 
 summer passes over the colonists in Canada, 
 without losses of children from the families 
 of settlers occurring in the vast forests of the 
 backwoods, similar to that on which the narra- 
 tive of the Canadian Crusoes is founded. Many 
 persons thus lost have perished in the wilder- 
 ness; and it is to impress on the memory the 
 natural resources of this country, by the aid 
 of interesting the imagination, that the author 
 -of the well-known and popular work, " The 
 Backwcods of Canada," has writtf^n the follow- 
 
 I 
 4 
 
 'i 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 lag pag 
 
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baa 
 Defore 
 y the 
 vliose 
 ion in 
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 t in a 
 jach ?'^ 
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 iTcely a 
 ])anada, 
 families 
 
 1 of the 
 ; narra- 
 
 Many 
 I wilder- 
 aory the 
 the aid 
 3 author 
 ■k, " The 
 Le foUow- 
 
 PRKPACE. 
 
 She hris drawn attention, in th- course of 
 this volume, to the practical sr luti-.u"* of that 
 provoking enigma, which seems lo perplex all 
 anxious wanderers in an unknown land, namely, 
 that finding themselves, at the end of a day's 
 toilsome march, close to the spot from which 
 they set out in the morning, and that this cruel 
 accident will occur for days in succession. The 
 escape of Captain O'Brien from his French 
 prison at Verdun, detailed with such spirit in 
 his lively autobiography, offers remarkable in- 
 stances of this propensity of the forlorn wanderer 
 ia a strange land. A corresponding incident is 
 recorded in the narrative of the " Escape of a 
 young French Officer from the ddpCt near 
 Peterborough, during the Napoleon European 
 war." He founl himself thrice at night within 
 sight of the walls of the prison from which he 
 had fled in the morning, after taking fruitless ' 
 c- ,alar walks of twenty miles. I do not recol- 
 lect the cause of such lost labour being explained 
 in either narrative ; perhaps the more frequent 
 occurrence of the disaster in the boundless back- 
 
 • Sm Appendix A ; UkowUe o. 815, 
 
10 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 r '■ 
 
 woods of the Canadian colonies, forced know* 
 ledge, dearly bought, on the perceptions of the 
 settlers. Persons who wander without knowing 
 the features and landmarks of a country in- 
 stinctively turn their faces to the sun, and for 
 that reason always travel in a circle, infallibly 
 finding themselves at night in the very spot 
 from which they started in the morning. 
 
 The resources and natural productions of the 
 noble colony of Canada are but superficially 
 known. An intimate acquaintance with its 
 rich vegetable and animal productions is most 
 effectually made under the high pressure of 
 difficulty and necessity. Our writer has striven 
 to interest children, or rather young people 
 approaching the age of adolescence, in the 
 natural history of this country, simply by 
 Bhowing them how it is possible for children 
 to make the best of it when thrown into a state 
 of destitution as forlorn as the wanderers on the 
 Bice Lake Plains. Perhaps those 'who would 
 not care for the berry, the root, and the grain, as 
 delineated and classified technically in books of 
 Bcience, might remember their uses and proper- 
 tiei: when thus brought practically before their 
 
PREFACE. 11 
 
 notice as the aliments of the famishing fellow- 
 
 creature, with whom their instinctive feelings 
 
 must perforce sympathize. When parents who 
 
 have left home comforts and all the ties of 
 
 gentle kindred for the dear sakes of their rising 
 
 families, in order to place them in a more 
 
 independent position, it is well if those young 
 
 minds are prepared with some knowledge of 
 
 what they are to fi^ : in the adopted country ; 
 
 the animals, the flowers, the fruits, and even the 
 
 minuter blessings which a bountiful Creator has 
 
 poured forth over that wide land. 
 
 The previous work of my sister, Mrs. Traill, 
 " The Backwoods of Canada, by the Wife of an 
 Emigrant Officer," published some years since 
 by Mr. C. Knight, in his Library of Useful 
 Knowledge, has passed through many editions, 
 and enjoyed (anonymous though it was) too 
 wide a popularity as a standard work for me to 
 need to dwell on it, further than to say that 
 the present is written in the same naive, charm- 
 ing style, with the same modesty and uncom- 
 plaining spirit, although much has the sweet 
 and gentle author endured, as every English 
 «adj must expect to do who ventures to en- 
 
12 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 counter the lot of a colonist. She has now 
 devoted her further years of experience as a 
 settler to the information of the younger class of 
 colonists, to open their minds and interest them 
 in the productions of that rising country, which 
 will one day prove the mightiest adjunct of the 
 island empire ; our nearest, our soundest colony, 
 unstained with the corruption of convict popu» 
 lation ; where families of gentle blood need fear 
 no re^ disgrace in their alliance ; where no one 
 need beg, and where any one may dig without 
 being ashamed. 
 
 If^ 
 
THE 
 
 CAJSTADIAJS- CKUSOES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ♦•mie morning had shot hor bright Btreamers on high, 
 O V Canada, opening all ^ ; i to the sky; 
 Still dazzling and white waa the robe that she wore 
 Except whore the ocean wave lash'd on the shore."' 
 
 Jacobite SoTiff, 
 
 There lies between the Rice Lake and the 
 Ontario a deep and fertile valley, surrounded by 
 lofty wood-crowned hills, the heights of which 
 were clothed chiefly with groves of oak and 
 pme, though the sides of the hills and the 
 alluvial bottoms gave a variety of noble timber , 
 trees of various kinds, as the maple, beech, | 
 hemlock, and others. This beautiful and 
 highly picturesque valley is watered by many 
 clear streams of pure refreshing water, from 
 whence the spot has derived its appropriate ' 
 appellation of "Cold Springs." " * 
 
 
 lA^ W<tA. 
 
 
14 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 At the time my little history commences, thia 
 ,' now highly cultivated spot was an unbroken 
 A wilderness, — all but two small farms, where 
 dwelt the only occupiers of the soil, — which 
 owned no other possessors than the wandering 
 hunting tribes of wild Indians, to whom the 
 right of the hunting grounds north of Rice Lake 
 appertained, according to their forest laws. 
 
 To those who travel over beaten roads, now 
 partially planted, among cultivated fields and 
 flowery orchards, and see cleared farms and 
 herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, the change 
 would be a striking one. I speak of the time 
 "when the neat and flourishing town of Cobourg, 
 i now an important port on the Ontario, was but 
 I a village in embryo — if it contained even a log- 
 house or a block-house it was all that it did, 
 
 C L^^<j^f'* *^"^ ^^^® ^^^^^ ^"^ picturesque ground upon 
 ^' '^ • which the fast increasing village of Port Hope 
 p<V\^^« is situated, had not yielded one forest tree to 
 the axe of the settler. No gallant vessel spread 
 her sails to waft the abundant produce of grai*^ 
 and Canadian stores along the waters of that 
 noble sheet of water ; no steamer had then 
 furrowed its bosom with her iron wheels, bear- 
 ing the stream of emigration towards the wilds 
 of our Northern and Western forests, there to 
 render a lonely trackless desert a fruitful garden. 
 What will not time and the industry of man, 
 
 n 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 15 
 
 assisted by the blessing of a merciful God, 
 effect ? To him be the glorj and honour ; for we 
 are taught, that " without the Lord buiJd the 
 city, their labour is but lost that build it; with- 
 out the Lord keep the city, the watchman 
 waketh but in vain." 
 
 But to my tale. And first it will be necessary 
 to mtroduce to the acquaintance of my youncr 
 readers the founders of our little settlement a't 
 Cold Springs. 
 
 Duncan Maxwell was a young Highland 
 soldier, a youth of eighteen, at the famous 
 battle of Quebec, where, though only a private, 
 he received the praise of his colonel for his 
 brave conduct. At the close of the battle 
 Duncan was wounded, and as the hospital was 
 full at the time with sick and disabled men he 
 was lodged in the house of a poor French 
 Canadian widow in the Quebec suburb; here 
 though a foreigner and an enemy, he received 
 much kind attention from nis excellent hostess 
 and her family, which consisted of a youncr man 
 about his own age, and a pretty black-eye°d lass 
 not more than sixteen. The widow Perron was 
 so mucJi occupied with otlier lodgers—for she 
 kepta^ort of boarding-house-that s!ie had not 
 much time to give to Duncan, so that he was 
 left a great deal to her sou Pierre, and a little to 
 Catharine, her dauffhter. 
 
16 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E9. 
 
 Duncan Maxwell was a fine, open-tempered, 
 frank lad, and he soon won the regard of Pierre 
 and his little sister. In spite of the prejudices of ,, 
 country, and the difference of language and 
 national customs, a steady and increasing friend- 
 ship grew up between the young Highlander and 
 the children of his hostess ; therefore it was not 
 without feelings of deep regret that they heard 
 the news, that the corps to which Duncan be- 
 longed was ordered for embarkation to England, 
 and Duncan was so far convalescent as to be 
 pronounced quite well enough to join them. 
 Alas for poor Catharine I she now found that 
 parting with her patient was a source of the 
 deepest sorrow to her young and guileless heart ; 
 nor was Duncan less moved at the separation 
 from his gentle nurse. It might be for years, 
 and it might be for ever, he could not tell; 
 but he could not tear himself away without 
 telHng the object of his affections how dear she 
 was to him, and to whisper a hope that he might 
 yet return one day to claim her as his bride; 
 and Catharine, weeping and blushing, promised 
 to wait for that happy day, or to remain single 
 for his sake, while Pierre promised to watch over 
 his friend's interests and keep alive Catharine's 
 love; for, said he, artlessly, " la belle Catrine is 
 pretty and lively, and may have many suitors 
 Vxofl-»ro aliA sftps vou again, mon ami. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES, ' 17 
 
 They say the course of true love never did 
 run smooth ; bi t, with the exception of this 
 great sorrow, the sorrow of separation, the lovo 
 of our young Highland soldier and his betrothed 
 knew no other interruption, for absence served 
 only to strengtlien the affection which was 
 founded on gratitude and esteem. 
 
 Two long years passed, however, and the 
 prospect of reunion was yet distant, when an 
 accident, which disabled Duncan from serving 
 his country, enabled him to retire with the 
 usual little pension, and return to Quebec to 
 seek his affianced. Some changes had taken 
 place during that short period: the widow 
 Perron was dead; Pierre, the gay, lively-hearted 
 Pierre, was married to the daughter of a lum- 
 berer ; and Catharine, who had no relatives in 
 Quebec, had gone up the country with her 
 brother and his wife, and was living in some 
 little settlement above Montreal with them. 
 
 Thither Duncan, with the constancy of his 
 nature, followed, and shortly afterwards was 
 married to his faithful Catharine. On one 
 point they had never differed, both beincr 
 of the same religion. ° 
 
 Pierre had seen a good deal of the fine 
 country on tho shores of the Ontario; he had 
 been hunting with some friendly Indians be- 
 tween the great waters and the Rice Laka and 
 
18 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 he now thought if Duncan and himself could 
 make up their minds to a quiet life in the 
 woods, there was not a better spot than the hill 
 pass between the plains and the big lake to fix 
 themselves upon. Duncan was of the same 
 opinion when he saw the spot. It was not 
 rugged and bare like his own Highlands, but 
 softer in character, yet his heart yearned for 
 the hill country. In those days there was no 
 obstacle to taking possession of any tract of 
 land in the unsurveyed forests, therefore Duncan 
 agreed with his brother-in-law to pioneer the 
 way with him, get a dwelling put up and some 
 ground prepared and "seeded down," and then 
 to return for their wives and settle themselves 
 down at once as farmers. Others had suc- 
 ceeded, had formed little colonies, and become 
 the heads of villages in due time ; why should 
 not they? And now behold our two back- 
 woodsmen fairly commencing their arduous life ; 
 but it was nothing, after all, to Pierre, by 
 previous occupation a hardy lumberer, or the 
 Scottish soldier, accustomed to brave all sorts 
 of hardships in a wild country, hipiself a moun- 
 taineer, inured to a stormy climate and scanty 
 fare from his earliest youth. But it is not my 
 intention to dwell upon the trials and difficulties 
 courageously met and battled with by our set 
 tiers and their young wives. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES, 
 
 Id 
 
 There was in those days a spirit of resistance 
 among the first settlers on the soil, a spirit to do 
 and bear, that is less commonly met with now 
 The spirit of civilization is now so widely dif- 
 fused, that her comforts are felt even in the 
 depths of the forest, so that the newly-come emi- 
 grant feels comparatively few of the physical 
 evils that were endured by the older inhabitants. 
 The first seed- wheat that was cast into the 
 ground by Duncan and Pierre, was brought 
 with infinite trouble a distance of fifty miles in 
 a little skiff, navigated along the shores of the 
 Ontario by the adventurous Pierre, and from 
 the nearest landing-place transported on the 
 shoulders of himself and Duncan to their home- 
 stead : a day of great labour but great joy it 
 was when they deposited their precious freight 
 in safety on the shanty floor. They were 
 obliged to make two journeys for the contents 
 of the little craft. What toil, what privation 
 they endured for the first two years! and now 
 the fruits of it began slowly to appear. No 
 two creatures could be more unlike than Pierre 
 and Duncan. The Highlander, stern, steady, 
 persevering, cautious, always giving ample rea- 
 eons for his doing or his not doing. The Cana- 
 dian, hopeful, lively, fertile in expedients, and 
 gay as a lark ; if one scheme failed another was 
 sure to present itself. Pierre and Duncan were 
 
l! 
 
 20 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 admirablj suited to be friends and neighbours. 
 The steady perseverance of the Scot helped to 
 temper the voLat'le temperament of tlie French- 
 man. They generally contrived to compass the 
 same end by different means, as two streams de- 
 scending from opposite hills will meet in one 
 broad river in the same valley. 
 
 Years passed on ; the farm, carefully cultiva- 
 ted, began to yield its increase, and food and 
 warm clothing were not wanted in the home- 
 steads. Catharine had become, in course of time, 
 the happy mother of four healthy children ; her 
 sister-in-law had even exceeded her in these 
 welcome contributions to the population of a 
 new colony. 
 
 Between the children of Pierre and Catharine 
 the most charming harmony prevailed ; they 
 grew up as one family, a pattern of affection and 
 early friendship. Though different in tempers 
 and dispositions. Hector Maxwell, the eldest son 
 of the Scottish soldier, and his cousin, jouncf 
 Louis Perron, were reatly attached ; they, with 
 the young Catharine and Mathilde, formed a little 
 coterie of inseparables; their amusements, tastes, 
 pursuits, occupations, all blended and harmo- 
 nized delightfully; there were none of those 
 little envyings and bickerings a!nong them 
 that pave the way to strife and disunion in after 
 life. 
 
THE CAi-ADIA.V CRBSOEa JJ 
 
 Catharine Maxwell and her cousin Louis ;vere 
 mo e i,ke brother and sister than Hector and 
 Ca ,an„e but Mathilde was gentle anddove' 
 if' ""'• f'™«-'J a contrast to the sravitv of 
 
 W ' „d I ''''"''' "'.^--^ -"» S^e 
 
 iiector and Louis were fourteen-stron? vV. 
 
 orous, .ndnstrious, and l,ard^, both in etsl 
 
 twelve. It ,3 not with Mathilde that rn- stow 
 
 rne. Wnh the gayety and naivet.3 of the 
 Irenchwoman, Catharine possessed, whe" 
 
 r w"f '.' "'" "■="<">. « ""-"ghtful anS wdl 
 r gulated m.nd, abilities which w°ouW well have 
 repa d the care of mental cultivation; but of 
 book-learning she knew nothing beyond a littb 
 
 ment which he had gained when in the arm v 
 havmg been taught by his colonel's son, a75 
 of twelve year« of age, who had taken a treat 
 fancy to h.m, and had at parting given h!L a 
 fevv of h,3 school-books, among^Uch w^a 
 Testament, wthout cover or title-page. At parT 
 na the young gentleman recommended its 
 «y perusal to Duncan. Had the gift been! 
 Bible, perhaps the soldier's obedience to his 
 pnest m,ght have rendered it a dead letter to 
 km., but as >t fortunately happened. h« w- «t 
 
 •II 
 
•2 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 conscious of any prohibition to deter him from 
 becom\>'' t acquainted with the truths of the Gos- 
 pel. He communicated the power of perusing 
 his books to his children Ilector and Catharine, 
 Duncan and Kenneth, in succession, with a feel- 
 ing of intense reverence; even the labour of 
 teaching was regarded as a holy duty in itself, 
 and was not undertaken without deeply i mpress- 
 ing the obligation he was conferring upon thoin 
 whenever they were brought to the task. It 
 was indeed a precious boon, and the children 
 learned to consider it as the pearl beyond all 
 price in the trials that awaitec'. them in their 
 eventful career. To her knowledge of religious 
 truths young Catharine added an intimate ac- 
 quaintanc with the songs and legends of her 
 father's romantic country, which was to her 
 even as fairyland. Often would her plaintive 
 ballads and old tales, related in the hut or the 
 wigwam to her attentive auditors, wile, away 
 heavy thoughts. Louis and Mathilde, her cou- 
 sins, sometimes wondered how Catharine had 
 acquied such a store of ballads and wild tales 
 as she could tell. 
 
 It was a lovely sunnj day in the flowery 
 month of June; Canada ^l•.ci not only c^off-d 
 that "dazzling white i.^ .nt^^.ioned in the 
 songs of her Jacobite emigrants, but had as- 
 turned the beauties of her loveliest season, the 
 
 Jdef: 
 
'•^ 
 
 him from 
 )f tho Gos- 
 f perusing 
 Catharine, 
 nth tt feel- 
 labour of 
 f in itself, 
 ly i mpress- 
 apon thoin 
 J task. It 
 e children 
 beyond all 
 tn in their 
 Df religious 
 itimate ac- 
 ids of her 
 vas to her 
 r plaintive 
 
 hut or the 
 wile, away 
 le, her cou- 
 harine had 
 I wild tales 
 
 ,he flowery 
 )nly c'cfiVd 
 ned in the 
 )ut had as* 
 season, the 
 
 % 
 
 THE CANADIAN rRUSOES. 
 
 last week in May and tho first three of June 
 being parallel to the En-.ish May, full of bad.«« 
 and flowers and fair promise of ripening fruits. 
 The high sloping hills surrounding the fertile 
 vale of Cold Springs were clothed with the 
 blossoms of the gorgeous scarlet enchroma, or 
 painted cup ; the large pure white blossoms of 
 the lily-Iike trillium; the delicate and fragile 
 lilac geranium, whose graceful flowers woo the 
 hand of the flower-gatherer only to fade aim jst 
 within his grasp; the golden cyprepedium, or 
 mocassin flower, so singular, so lovely in its 
 colour and formation, waved heavily its yellow- 
 blossoms as the breeze shook the stems; and 
 there, mingling with a thousand various floral 
 beauties, the azure lupine claimed its place, 
 shedding almost a heavenly tint upon the earth! 
 Thousands of roses were blooming on the more 
 level ground, sending forth their rich fragrance, 
 mixed with the delicate scent of the feathery 
 ceanothus, (New Jersey tea.) The vivid green- 
 ness of the young leaves of the forest, the tender 
 tmt of the springing corn, were contrasted with 
 the deep dark fringe of waiving pines on the 
 hills, and the yet darker shade of the spruce 
 and balsams on tho borders of the creeks, for so 
 our Canadian forest rills are universally termed 
 The bright glancing wings of the summer red^ 
 bird, the crimson-headed woodoeeker. thfl crc^ 
 
i'i 
 
 24 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 blue-bird, and noisy but splendid plumed jay, 
 might be seen among the branches ; the air was 
 filled with beauteous sights and soft murmuring 
 melodies. Under the shade of the luxuriant 
 hop-vines, that covered the rustic porch in front 
 of the little dwelling, the light step of Catharine 
 Maxwell might be heard mixed with the drowsy 
 whirring of the big wheel, as she passed to and 
 fro guiding the thread of yarn in its course: and 
 now she sang snatches of old mountain songs, 
 such as she had learned from her father ; and 
 now, with livelier air, hummed some gay French 
 tune to the household melody of her spinning 
 wheel, as she advanced and retreated with her 
 thread, unconscious of the laughing black eye 
 that was watching her movements from among 
 the embowering foliage that shielded her from 
 the morning sun. 
 
 "Come, ma belle cousine," for so Louis 
 delighted to call her. " Hector and I are 
 waiting for you to go with us to the * Beaver 
 Meadow.' The cattle have strayed, and we 
 think we shall find them there. The day ia 
 delicious, the very flowers* look as if they 
 wanted to be admired and plucked, and we 
 shall find eaiiy strawberries on the old Indian 
 clearing." 
 
 Catharine cast a longing look abroad, but 
 said, *' I fear, Louis, I cannot go to-day, for see, 
 
limed jay, 
 ■he air was 
 mrmuring 
 luxuriant 
 )h in front 
 Catharine 
 he drowsy 
 sed to and 
 mrse: and 
 ;ain songs, 
 ther ; and 
 ay French 
 ' spinning 
 I with her 
 black eye 
 )m among 
 I her from 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 26 
 
 so 
 nd 
 
 Louis 
 I are 
 3 ' Beaver 
 
 I, and we 
 lie day is 
 s if they 
 I, and we 
 Id Indian 
 
 iroad, but 
 y, for see, 
 
 I have all these rolls of wool to spin up, and 
 my yarn to wind off the reel and twist ;' and 
 then, my mother is away." 
 
 " Yes, I left her with mamma," replied 
 Louis, "and she said she would be home 
 shortly, so her absence need not stay you. She 
 said you could take a basket and try and bring 
 home some berries for sick Louise. Hector is 
 sure he knows a spot where we shall get some 
 fine ones, ripe and red." As he spoke Louis 
 whisked away the big wheel to one end of the 
 porch, gathered up the hanks of yarn and tossed 
 them into the open wicker basket, and the next 
 minute the large, coarse, flapped straw hat that 
 hung upon the peg in the porch, was stuck, not 
 very gracefully, on the top of Catharine's head 
 and tied beneath her chin, with a merry rattling 
 laugh, which drowned effectually the small 
 lecture that Catharine began to utter, by way of 
 reproving the light-hearted boy. 
 " But where is Mathilde ?" 
 '' Sitting like a dear good girl, as she is, with 
 sick Louise's head on her lap, and would not 
 disturb the poor sick thing for all the fruit and 
 flowers in Canada. Marie cried sadly to go 
 with us, but I promised her and petite Louise 
 lots of flowers and berries if we get them, and 
 the dear children were as happy as queens when 
 ic;i. laem. " 
 
% 
 
 26 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 " But stay, cousin, you are sure my mother 
 gave her consent to my going ? We shall be 
 away chief part of the day. You know it is a 
 long walk to the Beaver Meadow and back 
 again," said Catharine, hesitating as Louis took 
 her hand to lead her out from the porch. 
 
 "Yes, yes, ma belle," said the giddy boy," 
 quickly ; "so come along, for Hector is waiting 
 at the barn ; but stay, we shall be hungry be- 
 fore we return, so let us have some cakes and 
 butter, and do not forget a tin-oup for watr r " 
 
 Nothing doubting, Catharine, with buoyant 
 spirits, set about her little preparations, which 
 were soon completed ; but just as she was leaving 
 the little garden enclosure, she ran back to kiss 
 Kenneth and Duncan, her young brothers. In 
 the farm-yard she found Hector with his axe on 
 his shoulder. " What are you taking the axe 
 for, Hector ? you will find it heavy to carry," 
 said his sister. 
 
 " In the first place, I have to cut a stick of 
 blue-beech to make a broom for sweeping the 
 house, sister of mine ; and that is for your use, 
 • Miss Kate ; and in the next place, I have to find, 
 if possible, a piece of rock elm or hickory for 
 axe handles ; so now you have the reason why 
 I take the axe with me." 
 
 The children now left the clearing, and struck 
 into one of the deeu defiles that lay between 
 
 ■! 
 
my mother 
 t^e shall be 
 :now it is a 
 
 and back 
 Louis took 
 Tch. 
 
 ^iddy boy,' 
 r is waiting 
 hungry be- 
 
 cakes and 
 >r watc i' " 
 th buoyant 
 ions, -which 
 jvas leaving 
 )ack to kiss 
 others. In 
 L his axe on 
 ng the axe 
 r to carry," 
 
 a stick of 
 reeping the 
 >r your use, 
 lave to find, 
 hickory for 
 reason why 
 
 :, and struck 
 av between 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 27 
 
 tlie hilJg, and cheerfully they laughed and sung 
 and chattered, as they sped on their pleasant 
 path ; nor were they loth to exchange the glow- 
 
 27" wT ^"l '^' ''^'' ^^°°°^ «f *b« forest 
 I shade What handf^als of flowers of all hues 
 
 red blue, yellow, and white, were gathered onl^ 
 to be gazed at, carried for a while, then cast 
 as.de for others fresher and fairer. 'And not 
 they came to cool rills that flowed, softly mur 
 muring, among mossy limestone, or blocks of 
 red or grey granite, wending their way beneath 
 twisted roots and fallen trees; and Zu 
 Catharine lingered to watch the ddying dim 
 pies of the clear water, to note the tiny bri^ 
 fragments of quartz or crystallized limestone 
 that formed a shining pavement below the 
 ^rea, ; and often she paused to watch thelnl 
 movements of the red squirrel, as, with feathf? 
 tail erect and sharp scolding note, he crossed 
 their woodland path, and swiftly da ting uHhe 
 rugged bark of some neighbouring pi„e o 
 hemlock, bade the intruders on his qfierhaun J 
 defiance; yet so bold in his indignation he 
 scarcely condescended to ascend 4ond ^.el 
 
 --^ ^-rt..uiio, ..nK-mg ins wings upon his bi^as* 
 
! 
 
 28 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 to WOO his gentle mate, and the soft whispering 
 note of the little tree-creeper, as it flitted from 
 one hemlock to another, collecting its food 
 between the fissures of the bark, were among 
 the few sounds that broke the noontide stillness 
 of the woods ; but to all such sights and sounds 
 the lively Catharine and her cousin were not 
 indiiferent. And often they wondered that 
 Hec'or gravely pursued his onward way, and 
 seldom lingered as they did to mark the bright 
 colours of the flowers, or the bright sparkling of 
 the forest rill. 
 
 " What makes Hec so grave ?" said Catharine 
 to her companion, as they seated themselvs 
 upon a mossy trunk, to await his commg up, 
 for they had giddily chased each other till they 
 had far outrun him. 
 
 "Hector, sweet coz, is thinking perhaps of 
 how many bushels of corn or wheat this land 
 would grow if cleared, or he may be examining 
 the soil or the trees, or is looking for his stick 
 of blue-beech for your broom, or the hickory for 
 his axe handle, and never heeding such non- 
 sense as woodpeckers and squirrels, and lilies 
 and moss and ferns, for Hector is not a giddy 
 thing like his cousin Louis, or — " 
 
 "His sister Kate," interrupted Catharine, 
 merrily; "but when shall we come to the 
 Beaver Meadow '/" 
 
 .i* 
 
 1 
 
 
 ■ ^!L.,, 
 
t whispering 
 flitted from 
 ng its food 
 were among 
 tide stillness 
 i and sounds 
 in were not 
 ndered that 
 ■d way, and 
 k the bright 
 sparkling of 
 
 id Catharine 
 
 themselv s 
 
 coming up, 
 
 ber till thev 
 
 e examining 
 br his stick 
 ) hickory for 
 g such non- 
 s, and lilies 
 Qot a giddy 
 
 Catharine, 
 ome to the 
 
 THE CANADIAN- CRUSOES. 29 
 
 "Patience, ma belle, all in good time. Hark 
 Vas not that the ox- bell? No; Ilectoi' 
 wh.thng." And soon they heard the hen." 
 Btroke of h,s axe ringing among the trees, for he 
 hud found the blue-beech, and was cutting it to 
 ^eave on the path, that he might take it home 
 on their return; he had also marked some 
 h^kory of a nice size for his axe handles, to 
 bnng home at some future time 
 
 The children had walked several miles, and 
 were not sorry to sit down and rest till Hector 
 joined them. He was well pleased with his 
 success, and declared he felt no fatigur "A 
 soon as we reach the old Indian clearing 
 we shal find strawberries," he said, "and ^ 
 fresh ^cdd spring, and then we will have 2 
 
 ''Come, Hector,-come, Louis," said Catha- 
 rme, jumping up, "Ibng to be gathering the 
 s rawb^™ ; and see, my flowefs are ffdj 
 
 shall Ifm'r- uT '^'^' ^^^ '^' ^-«ke 
 Bhal be filled with fresh fruit instead, and we 
 
 must not forget petite Marie and sick Louir 
 
 or dear Mathilde. Ah, how I wish she w Te 
 
 ereattlnsnunutel But here is the open i" 
 
 to tlie Beaver Meadow." ° 
 
 And the sunlight was seen streaming thron..], 
 
 dteTrZ :^1 - they app.oached the 
 •'«, vniiuu Bome caij 
 
 3* 
 
 thQ "Indian 
 
30 
 
 THE CAXADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 clearing," but is now more generally known as 
 the little Beaver Meadow. It was a pleasant 
 spot, green, and surrounded with light bowery 
 trees and flowering shrubs, of a different growth 
 from those that belong to the dense forest. Here 
 the children found, on the hilly ground above, 
 fine ripe strawberries, the earliest they had seen 
 that year, and soon all weariness was forgotten 
 while pursuing the delightful occupation of 
 gathering the tempting fruit; and when they 
 had refreshed themselves, and filled the basket 
 with leaves and fruit, they slaked their thirst 
 from the stream, which wound its way among 
 the bushes. Catharine neglected not to reach 
 down flowery ^bunches of the fragrant white- 
 thorn and of the high-bush cranberry, then ra- 
 diant with nodding umbels of snowy blossoms, 
 or to wreathe the handle of the little basket with 
 the graceful trailing runners of the lovely twin- 
 flowered plant, the Linnaea borealie, which she 
 always said reminded her of the twins, Louise 
 and Marie, her little cousins. And now the 
 day began to wear away, for they had lingered 
 long in the little clearing.; they had wandered 
 from the path by which they entered it ; and 
 had neglected, in their eagerness to look for the 
 strawberries, to notice any particular mark by 
 which they might regain it. Just when they 
 began to think of returning. Louis noticed a 
 
 I 
 .1 
 
 ■I 
 
3. 
 
 ]j known as 
 3 a pleasant 
 igbt bowery 
 jrent growth 
 forest. Here 
 ound above, 
 \iej had seen 
 ras forgotten 
 cupation of 
 
 when they 
 i the basket 
 
 their thirst 
 way among 
 not to reach 
 ^ant white- 
 irry, then ra- 
 ry blossoms, 
 ) basket with 
 lovely twin- 
 B, which she 
 (vins, Louise 
 nd now the 
 bad lingered 
 id wandered 
 3red it; and 
 look for the 
 lar mark by 
 t when they 
 Lis noticed a 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 81 
 
 beaten path, where there seemed recent prints o. 
 cattle hoofs on a soft spongy soil beyond the 
 creek. 
 
 "Come, Hector," said he gayly, "this is 
 lucky ; we are on the cattle path ; no fear hut 
 It will lead us directly home, and that by a 
 nearer track." 
 
 Hector was undecided about following it, he 
 fancied it bent too much towards the setting sun ; 
 but his cousin overruled his objection. "And 
 is not this our own creek?" he said; I "have 
 often heard my father say it had its rise some- 
 where about this old clearing." 
 
 Hector now thought Louis might be right, 
 and they boldly followed the path among the 
 poplars and thorns and bushes that clothed 
 Its banks, surprised to see how open the ground 
 became, and how swift and clear the stream 
 swept onward. 
 
 "Oh, this, dear creek," cried the delighted 
 Catharme, "how pretty it is I I shall often 
 follow Its course after this ; no doubt it has its 
 source from our own Cold Springs." 
 
 And so they cheerfully purs°ued their way 
 till the sun, sinking behind the range of westerly 
 hills, soon left them in gloom ; but they anxiously 
 hurried forward when the stream wound its noisy 
 way among steep stony banks, clothed scantily 
 with pines and a few scattered silver-barked 
 
82 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 poplars. And now they became bewildered by 
 two paths leading in opposite directions , one 
 upward among the rocky hills, the other through 
 the opening gorge of a deep ravine. 
 
 Here, overcome with fatigue, Catharine seated 
 herself on a large block of granite, near a great 
 bushy pine that grew beside the path by the 
 ravine, unable to proceed ; and Hector, with a 
 grave and troubled countenance, stood beside 
 her, looking round with an air of great per- 
 plexity. Louis, seating himself at Catharine's 
 feet, surveyed the deep gloomy valley before 
 them, and sighed heavily. The conviction had 
 now forcibly struck him that they had mistaken 
 the path altogether. The very aspect of the 
 country was different ; the growth of the trees, 
 the flow of the stream, all indicated a change of 
 soil and scene. Darkness was fast drawing its 
 impenetrable veil around them ; a few stars were 
 stealing out, and gleaming down as if with 
 pitying glance upon the young wanderers ; but 
 they could not light up their pathway, or point 
 their homeward track. The only sound, save 
 the lulling murmur of the rippling stream below, 
 was the plaintive note of the whip-poor-will 
 from a gnarled oak that grew near them, and 
 the harsh, grating scream of the night-hawk, 
 darting about in the higher regions of the air, 
 pursuing its noisy companions, or swooping down 
 
 * 
 
wildered by 
 actions , one 
 ihev through 
 
 arine seated 
 near a great 
 )ath by the 
 ictor, with a 
 itood beside 
 f great per- 
 
 Catharine'3 
 iWey before 
 viction had 
 id mistaken 
 pect of the 
 >f the trees, 
 a change of 
 drawing its 
 r stars were 
 
 as if with 
 ierers; but 
 ly, or point 
 ound, save 
 earn below, 
 p-poor-will, 
 
 them, and 
 ight-hawk, 
 of the air, 
 )ping down 
 
 
f 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. S$ 
 
 wjth that peculiar hollow rushing sound, as of a 
 
 person blowing into some empty vessel, when it 
 
 seizes with wide-extended bill its insect prey. 
 
 Hector was the firai to break the silence. 
 
 tousm Louis, we were wrong in followino tlie 
 
 course of the stream ; I fear we shall never find 
 
 our way back to-night.'' 
 
 Louis made no reply ; his sad and subdued air 
 failed not to attract the atten 'on of his cousins 
 W by, Louis, how is this i you are not used 
 to be cast down by difficulties," said Hector, as 
 he marked something like tears glistening in 
 the dark eyes of his cousin. 
 
 Louis's heart was full, he did not reply, but 
 cast a troubled glance upon the weary Catharine 
 wh.- leaned heavily against the tree beneath 
 which she sat. 
 
 "It is not," resumed Hector, "that I mind 
 passing a summer's night under such a sky as 
 this, and with such a dry grassy bed below me- 
 but I do not think it is good for Catharine to 
 sleep on the bare ground in the night dews — 
 and then they will be so anxious at home 
 about our absence." 
 
 Louis burst into tears, and sobbed out,~"And 
 It IS all my doing that she came out with us- 
 I deceived her, and my aunt will be angry and 
 much alarmed, for she did not know of her 
 Komcr at all 'noq.r n«*u— •_ _ 
 
I 
 
 3-L 
 
 I m 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUaOES. 
 
 I! I mil 
 
 Hector, pray forgive me I " But Catherine was 
 weeping too much to reply to his passionate 
 entreaties, and Hector, who never swerved from 
 the truth, for which he had almost a stern rev- 
 erence, hardly repressed his indignation at what 
 ai)peared to him a most culpable act of deceit on 
 the part of Louis. 
 
 The sight of her cousin's grief and self abase- 
 ment touched the tender heart of Catharine, for 
 she was kind and dove-like in her disposition, 
 and loved Louis, with all his faults. Had it not 
 been for the painful consciousness of the grief 
 their unusual absence would occasion at home, 
 Catharine would have thought nothing of their 
 present adventure ; but she could not endure 
 the idea of her high principled father taxing 
 her with deceiving 1';=^ kind, indulgent mother 
 and him. It was this humiliating thought which 
 wounded the proud heart of Hector, causing 
 him to upbraid hh cousin in somewhat harsh 
 terms for his want of truthfulness, and steeled 
 him against the bitter grief that wrung the heart 
 of the penitent Louis, who, leaning his wet 
 cheek on the .shoulder of the kinder Catharine, 
 sobbed as if his heart would break, heedless of 
 her soothing words and affectionate endeavours 
 to console him. 
 
 " Dear Hector," she said, turning her soft, 
 pleading eyes on the stern face of her brother 
 
ithnrine was 
 
 3 passionate 
 k^erved from 
 a stern rev- 
 ;iou at what 
 of deceit on 
 
 1 self-abase- 
 tharine, for 
 disposition, 
 Had it not 
 f the grief 
 )n at home, 
 ng of their 
 lot endure 
 ber taxing 
 ent mother 
 light which 
 >r, causing 
 vhat harsh 
 nd steeled 
 ? the heart 
 5 his wet 
 Catharine, 
 leedless of 
 ndeavours 
 
 her soft, 
 r brother 
 
 THE CANADIAN CHL'SuKa. 
 
 86 
 
 jou rmst not be so very angry with poor 
 Louis; remember it was to please me, and give 
 me the enjoyment of a day of liberty with you 
 and himself in the woods, among the flowers and 
 trees and birds, that he committed this fault." 
 
 " Catharine, Louis spoke an untruth and a^'t- 
 ed deceitfully, and look at the consequences 1- 
 we shall have forfeited our parents' confidence, 
 and may have some days of painful privation to 
 endure before we regain our home, if we ever 
 do find our way back to Cold Springs," replied 
 Hector. 
 
 # " It is the grief and anxiety our dear parents 
 
 y T!u '°. ' *^^' "^^'^''" ^"^^^^'•^d Catharine. 
 
 that distresses my mind ; but," she added in 
 
 more cheerful tones, "let us not despair;' no 
 
 ■ doubt to-morrow we shall be able to retrace our 
 
 steps." 
 
 ^ With the young there is ever a magical spell 
 m that little word io-morrow,~it is a point 
 which they pursue as fast as it recedes from 
 ^them. Sad indeed is the young heart that does 
 not look forward with hope to the morrow I 
 The cloud still hung on Hector's brow, till 
 •Catharine gayly exclaimed, "Come, Hector I 
 • come, Loms I we must not stand idling thus • 
 we must think of providing some shelter for the 
 night; It IS not good to rest upon the bare 
 e -^ — ^..^^ ^ ^iic uignc aews. aee, here 
 
36 
 
 THE UAXADIA.V CRUSOES. 
 
 IS a nice hut half made,"— pointing to a large 
 upturned root, which some iierce whirlwind had 
 hurled from the lofty bank into the goi-ge of the 
 dark glen. 
 
 "Now you must make haste, and lop off a 
 few pine boughs, and stick theio into the ground, 
 or even lean them against the roots of this old 
 oak, and there, you see, will be a capital house 
 to shelter us. To work, to work, you idle boys 
 or poor wee Katty must turn squaw and build 
 her own wigwam, she playfully added, taking 
 up the axe which rested against the feathery 
 pme beneath which Hector was leaning. Now 
 Catharine cared as little as her brother and 
 cousm about passing a warm summer's night 
 under the shade of the forest trees, for she was 
 both hardy and healthy; but her woman's 
 heart taught her that the surest means of recon- 
 cihng the cousin would be by mutually interest- 
 mg them in the same object— and she was right. 
 In endeavouring to provide for the comfort of 
 their dear companion, all angry feelings were 
 forgotten by Hector, whOe active employment 
 chased away Louis's melancholy. 
 
 Unlike the tall, straight, naked trunks of the 
 pines of the forest, those of the plains are adorn- 
 ed with branches often to the very ground, va- 
 rying in form and height, and often presenting 
 most picturesque groups, or risine aindvamnno 
 
 ■I 
 
? to a large 
 lirlwind had 
 gorge of the 
 
 id lop off a 
 the ground, 
 of this old 
 ipital house 
 >u idle boys, 
 r and build 
 ded, taking 
 he feathery 
 ling. Now 
 rother and 
 ner's night 
 or she was 
 ^ woman's 
 IS of recon* 
 Ij interest- 
 5 was right, 
 comfort of 
 lings were 
 nplojment 
 
 nks of the 
 are adorn- 
 round, va« 
 presenting 
 
 ylvamnno 
 
 THE CiUS-ADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 37 
 
 scattered groves of the silver-barked poplar or 
 graceful birch-trees ; the dark, mossv greenness 
 of the stately pine contrasting finely with the 
 light, waving foliage of its slender, graceful 
 companions. 
 
 Hector, with his axe, soon lopped boughs 
 from one of the adjacent pines, which Louis 
 sharpened with his knife, and with Catharine's 
 assistance drove into the ground, arranging 
 them in such a way as to make the upturned 
 oak, with its roots and the earth which adhered 
 to them, form the back part of the hut, which 
 when completed, formed by no means a contempt- 
 ible shelter. Catharine then cut fern and deer- 
 grass with Louis's coukau-de.-chasse, which he 
 always carried in a sheath at his girdle, and 
 spread two beds, one, parted off by dry boughs 
 and bark, for herself, in the interior of the wig- 
 wam, and one for her brother and cousin nearer 
 the entrance. When all was finished to her satis- 
 faction, she called the two boys, and, according 
 to the custom of her parents, joined them in the 
 lifting up of their hands as an evening sacrifice 
 of praise and thanksgiving. Nor were these 
 fiimple-hearted children backward in implorin- 
 help and protection from the Most Hicrh. They 
 earnestly prayed that no dangerous creaiur 
 might come near to molest them daring the 
 hours of darkness and helpiessnpr^, no evil 
 
*i»* 
 
 88 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES, 
 
 spirit visit them, no unholy or wicked thoughts 
 intrude into their minds; but that hoi v angels 
 and heavenly thoughts might hover over them, 
 and fill their hearts with the peace of God which 
 passeth all understanding. And the prayer of 
 the poor wanderers was heard; for they slept 
 that night in peace, unharmed in the vast soli- 
 tude. So passed their first night on the Plains. 
 
s. 
 
 :ed thoughts 
 holj angels 
 r over them, 
 f God which 
 le prajer of 
 r thej slept 
 16 vast soli- 
 the Plains. 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 89 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Fear not, ye are of more value than many spanovw » 
 
 'pHE sun had risen in all the splendour of a 
 
 Canadian summer morning, when the sleep. 
 
 ers arose from their leafy beds. In spite of the 
 
 novelty of their situation, they had slept as 
 
 oundlj and tranquilly as if they had been 
 under the protecting care of their beloved Da- 
 rente, on their little palliasses of corn straw; but 
 they had been cared for by Him who ne ther 
 slumbereth nor sleepeth, and they waC fu 
 of youthful hope, and in fulness of faith in ml 
 mercy into whose hands they had commended 
 th^^r souls and bodies before they retired to 
 
 While the children slept in peace and safety 
 what terrors had filled the mind, of their df^. 
 tracted parental what a night of anguish and 
 sorrow had they passed 1 ° ^ 
 
 b J^r i^^' ^f °^"'^^ ^^ ^^*^°^t bringin.. 
 back the absent children, the two fathers, li^.ht! 
 og torches of fat pine, went forth in search of 
 the wanderers. How often did thev rais. th.ir 
 -oicas m hopes their loud halloos might're~ach 
 
«) 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOEa. 
 
 the hearing of the lost ones! How often did 
 they check their hurried steps to listen for soma 
 replying call I Bnt the sighing breeze in the 
 pine tops, or sudden rustling of the leaves 
 caused by the flight of the birds, startled by 
 the unusua) glare of the torches, and the echoes 
 of their own voices, were the only sounds that 
 mat their anxious ears. At daybreak they re- 
 turned, sad and dispirited, to their homef to 
 snatch a morsel of food, endeavour to cheer the 
 
 hurry of^ takmg different directions. Bu , un- 
 fortunately, they had little clue to the ^uto 
 which Hector and Louis had taken, ther^ bTng 
 many cattle paths through the wo^ds. Louis'! 
 
 M he had lefi no intimation of the path he nur 
 
 posed taking when he quitted his nioSie'shoC 
 he had merely said he w» going with Hector^ 
 
 .Ton of I 'T'.'""'^ "° ^'"' "' ^- -t^" 
 ton of asking Catharine to accompany them- 
 
 he had but told his sick sister that he wouU 
 bring home strawberries and flowers, and that 
 he would soon return. Alas, poor tioughtX 
 Louis, how httle did you think of the web o. 
 woe you were then weaving for youi^elf, and 
 all those to whom you and your giddy eompan- 
 ons were so dear! Childien, think 'Iwiee.Te 
 ve deceive once I 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 n 
 
 Catharine's absence would have been quita 
 unaccountable but for the testimony of Duncan 
 and Kenneth, who had received her sisterly 
 caresses before she joined Hector at the barn • 
 and much her mothei; marvelled what could huve 
 induced her good, dutiful Catharine to have left 
 her work and forsaken her household duties to 
 go rambhng away with the boys, for she never 
 left the house when her mother was absent from 
 It without her express permission, and now she 
 was gone— lost to them, perhaps for ever. There 
 stood the wheel she had been turning, there 
 hung the untwisted hanks of yarn, her morning 
 task,— and there they remained week after week 
 and month after month, untouched, a melan- 
 choly memorial to the hearts of the bereaved 
 parents of their beloved. 
 
 It were indeed a fruitless task to follow the 
 agonized fathers in their vain search for their 
 children, or to paint the bitter anguish that filled 
 their hearts as day passed after day, and still no 
 tidings of the lost ones. As hope faded, a deep 
 and settled gloom stole over the sorrowinc. 
 parents, and reigned throughout the once cheer" 
 ful and gladsome homes. At the end of a week 
 the only idea that remained was, that one ol 
 these three casualties had befallen the lost chil- 
 
 ^ri'""^^? ^' ^ ,^^"S^'^°g ^eath by famine; 
 and horrible, by wolves oi bears; 
 
 
 4* 
 
42. 
 
 THE CANADIAN CHl-sOEg. 
 
 or yet more terrible, with tortures bv the hand, 
 of the dreaded Indiana, who occasionall heU 
 
 about the Rice lake, which was known onlv bv 
 tbe elder Perron as the seene of many bWdv 
 
 ever V sited hv 1 "" """"""^ ^''' ^"'''^^'r 
 
 Sr^n 11 ^. f "'''■''''^=*^«Plyt''«J«l>ould 
 
 ppesXlt^^id:tc-rS 
 "fo^SnTtir'-^'-p-:: 
 
 tha\'zr,;\:^tt:h::'r'^=^^^'^^ 
 
 their lost children, and evrXladTne' 
 »o among the deep glens and hiU pals of 
 what :s now commonly called the PlaCfhev 
 would have stood little chance of *s overiZ 
 
 tt-eT^T'^''^"- ^^ "^y days of & 
 tigue of body and distress of mind th/l 
 
 "tLf;r, "''^ -""^-•'eTtt t:r: 
 
 utterly hopeless, and mourned in bitterne,, ^ 
 «pmt over the disastrous fate of their fet bo™ 
 
 :"^atdtmtt:rr— "^"^ 
 
 ™ <=°°:-'orted, because they were not." 
 "'^ «>« lost ones was an aggravation to the 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 43 
 
 sufferings of the mx)urners : could they but have 
 been certified of the manner of their deaths they 
 rancied they should be more contented ;' but 
 alas I this fearful satisfaction was withheld. ' 
 
 "Oh, were their tale of sorrow known, 
 'Twere sometliin^ to the breaking heart 
 The pangs of tloubt would then be gone' 
 And fancy's endless dreams depart." ' 
 
 But let us quit the now mournful settlement of 
 the Cold Sprmgs, and see how it really fared 
 with the young wanderers. 
 
 When they awoke, the valley was filled with 
 a white creamy mist, that arose from the bed of 
 the stream, (now known as Cold Creek) and 
 gave an indistinctness to the whole landscape 
 investing it with an appearance perfectly dif! 
 ferent to that which it had worn by the bright 
 clear light of the moon. No trace of their foot' 
 steps remained to guide them in retracing their 
 path; so hard and dry was the stony ground 
 that it left no impression on its surface. It was 
 with some difficulty they found the creek which 
 was concealed from sight by a lofty screen of 
 gigaLtic hawthorns, high-bush cranberries, pop- 
 ars, and birch-trees. The hawthorn was in 
 blossom, and gave out a sweet perfume, not less 
 fragraLt than the " May" which makes the lane? 
 and hedgerows of " merrie old England" so 
 Bw-cet and f^ir in May and June, as chanted in 
 
44 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 many a genuine pastoral of our olden time- 
 but when our simple Catharine drew down the 
 flowery branches to wreathe about her hat, she 
 loved the ilowers for their own native sweetness 
 and oeauty, not because poets had sung of them • 
 -but young minds have a natural poetry in 
 themselves, unfettered by rule or rhynie 
 
 At length their path began to grow more dif- 
 facult. A tangled mass of cedars, balsams, birch, 
 black ash, alders, and tamarack (Indian name 
 for the larch,) with a dense thicket of bushes 
 and shrubs, such as love the cool, damp soil of 
 marshy ground, warned our travellers that they 
 must quit the banks of the friendly stream, or 
 they might become entangled in "a trackless 
 swamp Having taken copious and refreshing 
 drafts from the bright waters, and bathed their 
 hands and faces, they ascended the grassy bank 
 and again descending, found themselves in one 
 of those long valleys, enclosed between lofty 
 sloping banks, clothed with shrubs and oaks' 
 with here and there a stately pine. Through 
 this second valley they pursued their way till 
 emerging into a wider space, they came among 
 those singularly picturesque groups of rounded 
 gravel hills, where the Cold Cre< k once more 
 met their view, winding its way towards a grove 
 of evergreens, where it was again lost to the eye. 
 Ihis lovely spot is now known as SackviUeV-- 
 
 f0 
 
;s. 
 
 olden time; 
 ew down the 
 
 her hat, she 
 ve sweetness 
 mg of them; 
 al poetry in 
 ijme. 
 
 )w more dif- 
 Isams, birch, 
 Qdian name 
 it of bushes 
 imp soil of 
 rs that they 
 '■ stream, or 
 a trackless 
 I refreshing 
 ithed their 
 -assy bank, 
 ves in one 
 reen lofty, 
 and oaks, 
 
 Through 
 r way, till 
 ine among 
 f rounded 
 )nce more 
 ds a grove 
 ;o the eye. 
 kokville's-" 
 
 THE CANAl>f ^' CRUSOES. 
 
 46 
 
 i 
 
 -'?."' 
 
 # 
 
 Mill-dike. The hand of man has curbed the 
 free course of the wild forest stream, and made 
 it subservient to his will, but could not destroy 
 the natural beauties of the scene.* 
 
 Fearing to entangle themselves in the swamp, 
 they kept the hilly ground, winding their way 
 up to the summit of the lofty ridge of the oak 
 hills, the highest ground they had yet attained ; 
 and here it was that the silver waters of the 
 Eice Lake in all its beauty burst upon the 
 eyes of the wondering and delighted travellers, ^^^.r 
 There it lay, a sheet of liquid silver just 
 emerging from the blue veil of mist that hung 
 upon its surface, and concealed its wooded shores 
 on either side. All feeling of dread and doubt 
 and danger was lost, for the time, in one rapturous 
 glow of admiration at a scene so unexpected ■ 
 and so beautiful as that which they now gazed j 
 upon from the elevation they had gained. From I "^"-V 
 this ridge they looked down the lake, and the 
 eye could take in an extent of many miles, with j 
 its verdant wooded islands, which stole into* 1 
 
 ♦ This place was originally owned by a man of taste, who 
 resided for some time upon the spot, till finding it convenient 
 to retnrn to his native country, the saw-mill passed into other 
 hands. The old log-house on the green bank a\)ovo the mill- 
 stream is still standing, though deserted ; the garden-fence, 
 Droken and dilapidated, no longer protects the enclosure, wherq 
 \'hb wild rose mingles with that of Provence,— the Caaadiao 
 ^rsspsr With the hop. 
 
 /^uJ: 
 
 *c^_ 
 
 K. 
 
 ■«m: 
 
ie 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 I 
 
 Jiew one by one as the raya of th„ „., • 
 drew up the movii,<. curtl .f ,'"^ """ 
 
 veloped them • ,„ T '"'^' """ en- 
 
 -u.L„ "h !«; heir".- '~"' "o^"'"" «"d 
 «" their bays and !!,? "'T""^ ^'^""^- ^■''l' 
 Pine-erown^d h's '^ °'" ^"^"'"8 ^^ and 
 
 -t^Vh^uarLtt-rcin^'^- 
 
 no. or is it the Eiee L ll? ^ "" *" «"'»• 
 be those of the ll. ^an yonder shores 
 
 Win, tfteTr^Sn:^^^^^^^^ 
 
 tor remembered havin.. often 1.7 Tl ^'"= 
 
 ^y that the Onurio wa°s tte an !f ^ '^*^' 
 the opposite shores Tt visible '"f"'' .^<'"' ""^ 
 remarkable state of ,1, , '*'''' '" some 
 
 had been oetsto a„y X^S? tT'™ *^^ 
 eye, while here they couM ri " ^ "'" ""'^^d 
 on the other side ^hT„ """^ '"" °''J«'"3 
 
 trees, and tven flil^f T'""" S""°** of the 
 their' way' ZZ't/J aT ', '°1 "'"^^''-^ 
 
 i'smargin. The'bread™ f t /afclfroT'^r" 
 . to shore could not thpv ^u "\^^^^^^om shon 
 
 or four miJes,. Th ,e i f elllr^^"^ "'-' 
 direction, seemed far Breath!' f f'''"''^ 
 eye could take in* ^ ^'^°'"^ "^"^ *' 
 
 f ^ 
 
 M 
 
norning sun 
 ist that en- 
 ''thern and 
 isible, with 
 ag oak and 
 
 ^'here are 
 the Onta- 
 der shores 
 tJiey the 
 t5s?» Hec 
 hJs father 
 d sea, and 
 I in some 
 'hen thej 
 le naked 
 5e objects 
 h of the 
 winging 
 Jshes OD 
 >m shon 
 ?d three 
 easterly 
 hat the 
 
 iters near 
 iid to bo 
 n»i troir 
 
 THE CANADIAx\ CRUSOES. 47 
 
 They now quitted the lofty ridge, and bent 
 their steps towards the lake. Wearied with 
 their walk, they seated themselves beneath the 
 shade of a beautiful feathery pine, on a high 
 
 promontory that commanded a magnificent view 
 down the lake. 
 
 "How pleasant it would be to have a house 
 on this delightful bank, overlooking the lake " 
 said Louis; " only think of the fish we could 
 take, and the ducks and wild fowl we could 
 shoot I and it would be no very hard matter to 
 hollow out a log canoe, such a one as I have 
 heard my father say he has rowed in across 
 many a ake and broad river below, when he 
 was Limbering." 
 
 "Yes, it would, indeed, be a pleasant spot to 
 ^ve upon,"* said Hector, "though I am not 
 quite sure that the land is as good just here 
 as It IS at Cold Springs; but all these flate and 
 rich valleys would make fine pastures, and pro- 
 duce plenty of grain, too, if cultivated." 
 
 "You always look to the main chance, Hec » 
 said Louis, laughing; "well, it was worth 'a 
 few hours' walking this morning to look upon 
 
 prilinf InM?'*" ^f " P^^""^"' cottage, erected by an enter- 
 
 M 
 
 ;&»'•'" 
 
48 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 SO lovely a sheet of water as this. I would 
 spend two nights in a wigwam,— would not you, 
 ma belle ? — to enjoy such a sight." 
 
 "Yes, Louis," replied his cousin, hesitating 
 fes she spoke ; " it is very pretty, and I did not 
 mind sleeping in the little hut; but then I 
 cannot enjoy myself as much as I should have 
 done had my father and mother been aware of 
 my intention of accompanying you. Ah, my 
 dear, dear parents !" she added, as the thought 
 of the anguish the absence of her companions 
 and herself would cause at home came over 
 her. " How I wish I had remained at home I 
 Selfish Catharine! foolish, idle girl I" 
 
 Poor Louis was overwhelmed with grief at 
 the sight of his cousin's tears, and as the kind- 
 hearted but thoughtless boy bent over her to 
 soothe and console her, his own tears fell upon 
 the fair locks of the weeping girl, and bedewed 
 the hand he held between his own. 
 
 " If you cry thus, cousin," ho whispered, " you 
 will break poor Louis's heart, already sore enough 
 with thinking of his foolish conduct." 
 
 "Be not cast down, Catharine," said her 
 brother, cheeringly ; " we may not- be so far 
 from home as you think. As soon as you are 
 rested we will set out again, and we may find 
 eomething to eat ; there must be strawberries on 
 ^hese sunny banks." 
 
I would 
 not jou, 
 
 lesitating 
 [ did not 
 t then I 
 lid have 
 iware of 
 Ah, my 
 thought 
 ipanions 
 ne over 
 ; home I 
 
 gi-ief at 
 le kind- 
 • her to 
 '11 upon 
 )edewed 
 
 i, "you 
 enough 
 
 lid her 
 so far 
 S^ou are 
 ay find 
 rrics oo 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 49 
 
 Catharine soon yielded to the voice of her 
 brother, and drying her eyes, proceeded to de- 
 wend the sides of the steep valley that lay to 
 one side of the high ground where they had 
 been sitting. 
 
 Suddenly darting down the bank, she ex- 
 claimed, "Come, Hector; come, Louis; here 
 indeed is provision to keep us from starving;" 
 —for her eye had caught the bright red straw- 
 berries among the flowers and herbage on the 
 ilope ; large, ripe strawberries— the very finest 
 <he had ever seen. 
 
 "There is indeed, ma belle," said Louis, 
 ^tooping as he spoke to gather up, not the fruit, 
 but a dozen fresh partridge eggs from the inner 
 shade of a thick tuft of grass and herbs that 
 grew beside a fallen tree. Catharine's voice and 
 sudden movementc ^ad startled the partridge* 
 from her nc md .ae eggs were soon trans- 
 ferred to Louis's straw hat, while a stone flung 
 by the steady hand of Hector stunned the pa- 
 rent bird. The boys laughed exultingly as they 
 displayed their prizes to the astonished Oatha- 
 rine, who, in spite of hunger, could not help re- 
 gretting ike death of the m^other bird Girls and 
 women rarely sympathize' with men ...dboya 
 in their field sports, and Hector laughed at his 
 
 *Jhe Canadian partridge is a species of ^rrouse. laroer ^*a 
 ii3 iia^iiBii or trench partridga. 
 
50 
 
 THE CANADIAJS" CRUSOES. 
 
 sister's doleful looks as he handed over the 
 bird to her. 
 
 " It was a lucky chance," said he, " and the 
 stone was well aimed, but it is not the first 
 partridge that I have killed in this way. They 
 are so stupid you may even run them down at 
 times ; I hope to get another before the day is 
 over. Well, there is no fear of starving to-day, 
 at all events," he added, as he inspected the con- 
 tenta of his cousin's hat ; " twelve nice fresh 
 eggs, a bird, and plenty of fruit." 
 
 "But how shall we cook the bird and the 
 eggs? We have no means of getting a fire 
 made," said Catharine. 
 
 " As to the eggs," said Louis, " we can eat 
 them raw ; it is not for hungry wanderers like 
 us to be over nice about our food." 
 
 "They would satisfy us much better were 
 they boiled, or roasted in the ashes," observed 
 Hector. 
 
 " True. Well, a fire, I think, can be got with 
 a little trouble." 
 
 " But how ?" asked Hector. 
 
 "Oh, there are many ways, but the readiest 
 would be a flint with the help of my knife." 
 
 "A flint?" 
 
 " Yes, if we could get one— but I see nothing 
 but granite, which crumbles and shivers when 
 we could not get a spark. However, 
 
 ^ 
 
 .«~. 1- 
 
 OMUUiL 
 
THE CANADIAN ORUSOES. 
 
 61 
 
 the 
 
 Mm 
 
 I think it's very likely that one of the round 
 pebbles I see on the beach yonder may be found 
 hard enough for the purpose." 
 
 To the shore they bent their steps as soon as 
 the little basket had been well filled with straw- 
 berries, and descending the precipitous bank, 
 fringed with young saplings, birch, ash, and 
 poplars, they quickly found themselves beside 
 the bright v/aters of the lake. A flint was soon 
 found among the water-w^rn stones that lay 
 thickly strewn upon the shore, and a handful 
 of dry sedge, almost as inflammable as tinder, 
 was collected without trouble ; though Louis, 
 with the recklessness of his nature, had coolly 
 proposed to tear a strip from his cousin's 
 apron as a substitute for tinder,— a proposal 
 that somewhat raised the indignation of the 
 tidy Catharine, whose ideas of economy and 
 neatness were greatly outraged, especially as 
 she had no sewing implements to assist in 
 mendirg the rent. Louis thought nothing of 
 that; it was a part of his character to think 
 only of the present, little of the past, and to let 
 the future provide for itself. Such was Louis's 
 great failing, which had proved a fruitful source 
 of trouble both to himself and others. In this 
 respect he bore a striking contrast to his more 
 cautious companion, who possessed much of the 
 gravity of his father. Hector was as heedful 
 
62 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 1' 
 
 and steady in his decisions as Louis was rash 
 and impetuous. 
 
 After many futile attempts, and some skin 
 knocked off their knuckles through awkward 
 handling of the knife and flint, a good fire 
 was at last kindled, as there was no lack of 
 dry wood on the shore ; Catharine then triumph- 
 antly produced her tin pot, and the eggs were 
 boiled, greatly to the satisfaction of all parties 
 who were by this time sufficiently hungry 
 having eaten nothing since the previous even^ 
 ing more substantial than the strawberries they 
 had taken during the time they were gathering 
 them m the morning. 
 
 Catharine had selected a pretty, cool, shady 
 recess a natural bower, under the overhanging 
 growth of cedars, poplars, and birch, which 
 were wreathed together by the flexile branches 
 ot the vine and bitter-sweet, which climbed to 
 a height of fifteen feet* among the branches 
 ot the trees, which it covered as with a mantle 
 A pure spring of cold, delicious water welled 
 out from beneath the twisted roots of an old 
 hoary-barked cedar, and found its way among 
 the shingles on the beach to the lake, a humble 
 
 «tSs^^ a ' J "^ ornamental. It possesses powerful prop. 
 
f 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 53 
 
 but constant tributary to its waters. Some 
 large blocks of vvater-worn stone formed conve- 
 nient seats and a natural table, on which the 
 little mprden arranged the forest fare ; and nearer 
 was a meal made wiw greater appetite ur taken 
 with more thankfulness than that which our 
 wanderers ate that morning. The eggs (part of 
 which thej reserved for another time) were 
 declared to be better than those that were dailv 
 produced from the little hen-house at Cold 
 bprings. The strawberries set out in little pot- 
 t^r? made with the shining leaves of the oak 
 smoubly pinned together by Catharine with 
 .ne long spurs of the hawthorn, were voted 
 delicious, and the pure water most refreshing 
 that they drank, for lack of better cups, from ' 
 a large mussel-shell which Catharine had picked 
 up among the weeds and pebbles on the beach 
 Many children would have wandered about 
 weeping and dL^consolate, lamenting their sad 
 tate, or have embittered the time by useless re- 
 pining or, perhaps, by venting their uneasiness 
 in reviling the principal author of their calamit v 
 -poor, thoughtless Louis; but such were not^ 
 tlie dispositions of our young Canadians. Early 
 accustomed to the hardships incidental to the 
 lives of the settlers in the bush, these youno 
 people had learned to bear with patience and 
 ehecr.umess privations that would have crushed 
 
54 
 
 THE CAXADIAJ^ CRUSOES. 
 
 the spirit, of children more delicately nurtured. 
 
 Ihey had known every degree of hunger and 
 nakedness; during the first few years of their 
 hves they had often been compelled to subsist 
 tor aays and weeks upon roots and herbs, wild 
 truits, and game which their fathers had learned 
 
 IndT^i'^.^T^''^^^^^^^^*- Thus Louis 
 and Hector had early been initiated into the 
 
 masteries of the chase. They could make dead- 
 talis, and pite, and traps, and snares,~they were 
 as expert a^ Indians in the use of the bow,-^ 
 they could pitch a stone, or fling a wooden dart 
 at partridge, hare, and squirrel, with almost un- 
 emng aim; and were as swift of foot as young 
 fawns. Now it was that they learned to value 
 in ite fullest extent this useful and practical 
 knowledge which enabled them to face with 
 fortitude the privations of a life so precarious as 
 that to which they were now exposed. 
 
 It wa^ one of the elder Maxwell's maxims - 
 Never let difficulties overcome you, but rathei 
 strive to conquer them ; let the head direct the 
 hand, and the hand, like a well-disciplined sol- 
 dier, obey the head as chief. When his chil- 
 dren expressed any doubts of not being able to 
 accomplish any work they had begun, he would 
 say Have you not hands, have you not a 
 head, have you not eyes to see, and reason to 
 guide you ? As for impossibilities, they do not 
 
 r 
 
4i «» 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 55 
 
 belong to the trade of a soldier,-^he dare not 
 see them." Thus were energy and perseverance 
 early instilled into the minds of his children • 
 they were now called upon to give practical 
 proofs of the precepts that had been taught them 
 m childhood. Hector trusted to his axe, and 
 Louis to hiscoMteaw.ofe-cAa55e* and pocket-knife- 
 the latter was a present from an old forest friend 
 of his father's, who had visited them the previous 
 winter, and which, by good luck, Louis had in 
 bis pocket,— a capacious pouch, in which were 
 stored many precious things, such as coils of 
 twme and string, strips of leather, with odds and 
 ends of various kinds; nails, bitsof iron, leather 
 and such miscellaneous articles as find their wuv 
 most mysteriously into boys' pockets in general 
 and Louis Perron's in particular, who was a 
 wonderful collector of such small matters. 
 
 The children were not easily daunted by the 
 prospect of passing a few days abroad on so 
 charming a spot, and at such'a lovely season 
 where fruite were so abundant ; and when they 
 had finished their morning meal, so providen- 
 tially placed within their reach, thev gratefully 
 acknowledged the mercy of God in'this thing 
 
 Having refreshed themselves bv bathing their 
 hands and faces in the lake they ohe-^rfully re- 
 
 * Huntiniy.lmifa 
 
66 
 
 THE CANADIAN CKUSOES. 
 
 newed their wanderings, though something loth 
 to leave the cool shade and the spring L an 
 untrodden path among the hills and deep ravines 
 that furrow the shores of the Eice Lake in so 
 remarkable a manner ; and often did our weary 
 wanderers pause to look upon the wild glens and 
 precipitous hills, where the fuwn and the shv 
 deer found safe retreats, unharmed bv the rifle 
 
 headed eagle built their nests, unheeding and 
 unharmed Twice that day, misled by following 
 the track of the deer, had they returned to the 
 same spot,-a deep and lovely glen, which had 
 once been a water-course, but now a green and 
 Bhady valley. This they named the Valley of 
 the Kock, from a remarkable block of red granite 
 that occupied a central position in the narrow 
 defile ; and here they prepared to pass the second 
 night on the Plains. A few boughs cut down 
 and interlaced with the shrubs round a small 
 space cleared with Hector's axe, formed shelter 
 and leaves and grass, strewed on the ground' 
 formed a bed, though not so smooth, perhaps, as 
 the ^ark and cedar-boughs that the Indians 
 spread within their summer wigwams for 'car- 
 pets and couches, or the fresh heather that the 
 •lighlanders gather on the wild Scottish hills 
 
 While Hector and Louis were preparing the 
 Bleepmg-chamber, Catharine busied herself m 
 
 L 
 
 t' 
 
 ■■»t^Jl, 
 
I 
 
 THE CANADIAN ORtSOES. 67 
 
 preparing the partridge for their supper. Hay 
 ing collected some thin peelings from the m»<,ed 
 bark of a birch-tree, that grew on the sid^rf 
 the steep bank to which she gave the appro- 
 pnate name of the " Birken shaw," she dried it 
 in her bosom, and then beat it fine on a big 
 stone, t,ll :t resembled the finest white paper 
 This proved excellent tinder, the aromatic oil 
 contamecl m the bark of the birch being highly 
 nflammaUe. Hector had prudently retaLd 
 the flmt that they had used in the morning, 
 and a fire was now lighted in front of the rocky 
 stone and a forked stick, stuck in the ground 
 and bent over the coala, served as a spit, on 
 which gipsy-feshion, the partridge wa^ Lus- 
 pended,--a scanty meal, but thankfully par- 
 tal:en of, though they knew not how^they 
 should breakfast next morning. The childrel 
 felt they were pensioners on God's providence 
 
 lun'them.''^ '"' '^"^^"^ °' *"« -"J— • 
 
 guine than his sister or cousin-expressed soma 
 anxiety for their provisions for L monZ 
 
 when he read portions from the holy word of 
 
 ^:'' !;t^ ^^^^ J>»^ "PO" her'brothert 
 _„„, „iii,h xc.iea on iier knees, as he sat upon 
 
58 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 the grass beside her, and said, in a low and 
 earnest tone, '"Consider the fowls of the air- 
 they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gathei 
 into barns, yet your heavenly Father feedeth 
 tliem Are ye not much better than they ?' 
 Surely my brother, God careth for us as much 
 as for the wild creatures, that have no sense to 
 praise and glorify His holy name. God cares 
 for the creatures He has made, and supplies 
 them with knowledge where they shall find 
 food when they hunger and thirst. So I have 
 heard my father say ; and surely our father 
 knows, for is he not a wise man, Hector?" 
 "I remember," said Louis, thoughtfully 
 hearing my mother repeat the words of a 
 good old man she knew when she lived in 
 Quebec;-' When you are in trouble, Mathilde/ 
 he used to say to her, 'kneel down, and ask 
 Gods help, nothing doubting but that He has 
 the power as well as the will to serve you, if it 
 be for your good; for He is able to bring all 
 things to pass. It is our want of faith that pre- 
 vent our prayers from being heard.' And 
 truly I think the wise old man was right," he 
 added. ° '* 
 
 It was strange to hear grave words like these 
 from the lips of the giddy Louis. Possibly thev 
 had the greater weight on that account. And 
 Hector, looking up with a serious air, replied, 
 
THE CANADIAN CRL'SOES. 
 
 69 
 
 * 
 
 Four mother's friend wms a good man, Louis 
 Our want of trust in God's power must displease 
 Him. And when we think of all the great and 
 glorious thmgs He has made, -that blue sky 
 those sparkling stars, the beautiful moon that is 
 now shmmg down upon us, and the hills and 
 waters, the mighty forest, and little creeping 
 plants and flowers that grow at our feet-i^ 
 must indeed, seem foolish in His eyes that we 
 should doubt His power to help us, who not 
 on y made all these things, but ourselves also." 
 True," said Catharine; "but then. Hector 
 we are not as God made us ; , for the wicked one 
 cast bad seed in the fiel ^ where God had sown 
 the good." 
 
 "Let us, however, consider what we shall do 
 for food: for, you know, God helps those that 
 help themselves," said Louis. " Let us consider 
 ahttle. There must be plenty of fish in the 
 iaJre, both small and great." 
 
 "But how are we to get them out of it?" 
 rejomed Catharine. " I doubt the fish will swim 
 at their ease there, while we go hungry." 
 
 " Do not interrupt me, ma ch^re. Then, we 
 see the track of deer, and the holes of the wood- 
 chuck; we hear the cry of squirrels and chit- 
 munks, and tnere are plenty of partridges, and 
 ducks, and quails, and snipes ; of course, we 
 
 have to COmtrivA flnmo TTr«^ *- 7-.M1 j^t ^ . 
 
 ,,„.^^ ^aj 5^^ jj^^ll mem. ijruits 
 
00 
 
 THE CANADIAN CKUSOES. 
 
 there are in abundance, and plenty of nuts of 
 different kinds. A t present wo have plenty ot 
 fine strawberries, and huckleberries will be ripe 
 soon in profusion, and bilberries too, and you 
 know how pleasant they are ; as for raspberries, 
 I see none; but by and by there will be May- 
 apples— I see great quantities of them in the 
 low grounds; grapes, high-bush cranberries, 
 haws as large as cherries, and sweet too ; squaw' 
 berries, wild plums, choke-cherries, and bird- 
 cherries. As for sweet acorns, there will be 
 bushels and bushels of them for the roasting, as 
 good as chestnuts, to my taste ; and butter-nuts, 
 and hickory-nuts,--with many other good 
 things." And here Louis stopped for want of 
 breath to continue his catalogue of forest dain- 
 ties. 
 
 "Yes; and there are bears, and wolves, and 
 racoons, too, that will eat us for want of better 
 food," interrupted Hector, slyly. " Nay, Katty, 
 do not shudder, as if you were already in the 
 clutches of a big bear. Neither bear nor wolf 
 shall make minceiaeat of thee, my girl, while 
 Louis and thy brother are near, to wield an.axe 
 or a knife in thy defence." 
 
 " Nor catamount spring upon thee, ma belle 
 cousine," added Louis, gallantly, " while thy bold 
 cousin Louis can scare him away." 
 
 " "Well, now that we know our resources, the 
 
 r 
 
 ki 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 61 
 
 next thing is to consider how we are to obtain 
 them, my dears,'' said Catharine. •' For fishing, 
 you know, we must have a hook and line, a 
 rod, or a net. Now, where are these to be met 
 with ?" 
 
 Louis nodded his head sagaciously. "The 
 line I think I can provide ; the hook is more 
 difficult, but I do not despair even of that. As 
 to the rod, it can be cut from any slender sap- 
 ling near the shore. A net, ma chdre, I could 
 make with very little trouble, if I had but a 
 piece of cloth to sew over a hoop." 
 
 Catharine laughed. " You are very inge- 
 nious, no doubt. Monsieur Louis, but where are 
 you to get the cloth and the hoop, and the means 
 of sewing it on ?" 
 
 Louis took up the corner of his cousin's apron 
 with a provoking look. 
 
 "My apron, sir, is not to be appropriated for 
 any such purpose. You seem to covet it for 
 every thing." 
 
 " Indeed, ma petite, I think it very unbecom- 
 ing and very ugly, and never could see any good 
 reason why you and mamma and Mathilde 
 should wear such frightful things." 
 
 " It is to keep our gowns clean, Louis, when 
 we are milking and scrubbing, and doing all 
 sorts of household duties," said Catharine. 
 
 "Well- rna l^ollo tr^n }>i"- -^:ii . 
 
 -J —a — .,^ ^^(.i nave ijutmur cows to 
 
«2 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 milk, nor house to dean," replied the annoying 
 boy; "so there can be little want of the apron 
 I could turn it to fifty useful purposes." 
 
 "Pooh, nonsense," said Hector, impatiently, 
 let the child alone, and do not tease her about 
 her apron." 
 
 "Well, then, there is another good thing I 
 did not think of before, water mussels. I have 
 heard my father and old Jacob the lumberer 
 say, that, roasted in their shells in the ashes 
 with a seasoning of salt and pepper, they are 
 good eatmg when nothing better is to be got." 
 
 "No doubt, if the seasoning can be procured.'* 
 said Hector, "but, alas for the salt and the pei- 
 perl" ^ ^ 
 
 " Well, we can eat them with the best of all 
 sauces-hunger; and then, no doubt, there are 
 crayfish m the gravel under the stones, but we 
 
 tTem """^ "^^^ ^ ^'''''^ ^"^ "''" ^°^^'' '° *^^^"S 
 
 " To-morrow, then, let us breakfast on fish " 
 
 sajd Hector. "You and I will try our luck, 
 
 T 1 ^^ ^^^^^""^ strawberries; and if our line 
 should break, we can easily cut those long locks 
 from Catharine's head, and twist them mto 
 Imes -and Hector laid his hands upon the long • 
 fair hair that hung in shining curls about his 
 sisters neck. 
 
 "Cut my curls I This is even worse than 
 
 i 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 68 
 
 cousin Louis'3 proposal of making tinder and 
 fishmg-nets of my apron," said Catharine sha- 
 icing back the bright tresses, which, escaping from 
 the snood that bound them, fell in golden waves 
 over her shoulders. 
 
 " In truth, Hec, it were a sin and a shame to 
 cut her pretty curls, that become her so well " 
 said Louis. "But ... have no scissors, m'a 
 bdle, so you need fear n. . njury to your precious 
 
 " For the matte, of th.^, Louis, we could cut 
 them with your oov. au-de^chasse. I could tell 
 you a story that my father told me, not long 
 since, of Charles Stuart, the second king of that 
 name m England. You know he was the 
 grand-uncle of the young Chevalier Charles 
 Edward, that my father talks of and loves so 
 much. 
 
 "I know all about him," said Catharine, 
 noddmg sagaciously ; " let us hear the story of his 
 grand-unde But I should like to know what 
 
 KfngCh:l"°""""'^^°^°''--°^-it'> 
 "Wait a bit, Kate, and you shall hear, that 
 
 "VellT ^^"'™'*'" ^""'^ ^^' brother. 
 
 Well then, you must know, that after some 
 
 great battle, the name of which I forget » i„ 
 
 • natfla «r rrr— 
 
 --■juaBsar. 
 
64 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES, 
 
 which the king and his handfd of brave soldiers 
 were defeated by the forces of the Parliament, 
 (the Eoundheads as they were called,) the poor 
 young king was hunted like a partridge upon 
 the mountains ; a large price was set on his 
 head, to be given to any traitor who should slay 
 him, or bring him prisoner to Oliver Cromwell. 
 He was obliged to dress himself in all sorts of 
 queer clothes, and hide in all manner of strange 
 out-of-the-way places, and keep company with 
 rude and humble men, the better to hide his 
 real rank from the cruel enemies that sought his 
 life. Once he hid along with a gallant gentle- 
 man,* one of his own brave officers, in the 
 branches of a great oak. Once he was hid in a 
 mill ; and another time he was in the house of 
 one Pendril. a woodman. The soldiers of the 
 Parliament, who were always prowling about, 
 and popping in unawares wherever they sus- 
 pected the poor king to be hidden, were, at one 
 time, in the very room where he was standing 
 beside the fire." 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Catharine, " that was fright- 
 ful. And did they take him prisoner?" - 
 
 " No ; for the wLe woodman and his brothers, 
 fearing lest the soldiers should discover that he? 
 was a cavalier and a gentleman, by the long 
 
 ^ 
 
 T vOlOfiCi ^.-SrcicSa* 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 65 
 
 I 
 
 curls that the king's men all wore in those 
 days, and called lovelocks, begged of his majesty 
 to let his hair be cropped close to his head." 
 
 " That was very hard, to lose his nice curls." 
 
 " I dare say the young king thought so too, 
 but it was better to lose his hair than hi<^ head. 
 So, I suppose, the men told him, for he suffered 
 them to cut it all close to his head, laying down 
 his head on a rough deal table, or a chopping- 
 block, while his faithful friends with a large 
 knife trimmed off the curls." 
 
 " I wonder if the young king thought at that 
 minute of his poor father, who, you know, was 
 forced by wicked men to lay down his head 
 upon a block to have it cut from his shoulders, 
 because Cromwell, and others as hard-hearted 
 as himself, willed that he should die ." 
 
 " Poor king !" said Catharine, sighing, " I see 
 that it is better to be poor children, wandering 
 on these plains under God's own care, than to 
 be kings and princes at the mercy of bad and 
 sinful men." 
 
 " Who told your father all these things, Hec ?" 
 said Louis. 
 
 " It was the son of his brave colonel, who 
 
 knew a great deal about the history of tho 
 
 Stuart kings, for our colonel had been with 
 
 Prince Charles, the young chevalier, and fought 
 
 by bis side when he wai' in Scotland; he loved 
 6* 
 
66 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES, 
 
 him dearly, and, after the battle of Culloden, 
 where the prince lost all, and was driven from 
 place to place, and had not where to lay his 
 head, he went abroad in hopes of better times ; 
 (but those times did not come for the poor 
 prince ;) and our colonel, after a while, through 
 the friendship of General Wolfe, got a commis- 
 sion in the army that was embarking for Quebec, 
 and, at last, commanded the regiment to which 
 my father belonged. He was a kind man, and 
 my father loved both him and his son, and 
 grieved not p. little when he par ed from him." 
 
 " Well," said Catharine, " as you have told 
 me such a nice story, Mister Hec, I shall forgive 
 the affront about my curls." 
 
 "Well, then, to-morrow we are to try our 
 luck at fishing, and if we fail, we will make us 
 bows and arrows to kill deer or small game ; I 
 fancy we shall not be over particular as to its 
 quality. Why should not we be able to find 
 subsistence as well as the wild Indians ?" 
 
 "True," said Hector, "the wild men of the 
 wilderness, and the animals and birds, all are 
 fed by the things that He provideth ; then, 
 wherefore should His white children fear ?" 
 
 "I have often heard my father tell of the 
 privaticiS of the lumberers, when they have 
 fallen short of provisions, and of the contri- 
 vances of himself and old Jacob Morelle, when 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 07 
 
 tbey were lost for several days, nay, weeks I 
 believe it was. Like the Indians, they made 
 tueii).elves bows and arrows, usijg the sinews 
 of tae deer, or fresh thongs of leather, for bow- 
 strings; and when they could not get game to 
 . eat, .hey boiled the inner bark of the slippery 
 elm to jelly, or birch bar^ and drank th^ sap 
 of the sugar maple when they could get no 
 water but melted snow only, which i. unwhole- 
 some ; at last, they even boiled their own mo- 
 cassins." 
 
 " Indeed, Louis, that mujt have been a very 
 unsavoury dish," said Catharine. 
 
 " That old buckskin vest would have made 
 a famous pot of soup of itself," added Hector, 
 or the deer-skin hunting shirt." 
 
 "Well, they might have been reduced even 
 to that," said Louis, kaghing, " but for the good 
 fortune that befell them in the way of a half- 
 roasted bear." 
 
 "Nonsense, cousin Louis, bears do not ru.-^ 
 about ready roasted in the forest, like the Iambs 
 m the old nursery tale." 
 
 " Weil aow, Kate, this was a fact ; at least. 
 It was tola as one by old Jacob, and my father 
 did not deny it; shall I tell you about it? 
 A ter passing several hungry days with no 
 better food to keep them alive than the sera- 
 
 pine's of the innAr Vio^l^ ^^*1 ^-i , . 
 
 - ^ '""^ vi fcuc poplars ana eima, 
 
es 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 which was not very substantial for hearty men, 
 they encamped one night in a thick, dark swamp, 
 —not the sort of place they would have chosen, 
 but that they could not help themselves, having 
 been enticed into it by the tracks of a deer or a 
 moose,— and night came upon them unawares, 
 so ttey set to work to kindle up a fire with 
 spunk, and a flint and knife; rifle they had 
 none, or maybe they would have had game to cat. 
 Old Jacob fixed upon a huge hollow pine, that 
 lay across ttieir path, against which he soon 
 piled a glorious heap of boughs and arms of 
 trees, and whatever wood he could collect, and 
 lighted up a fine fire. You know what a noble 
 hand old Jacob used to be at making up a roar- 
 ing fire ; h^ thought, I suppose, if he could not 
 have warmth within, he would have pleniv of 
 it without. The wood was dry pin 3 and cedar 
 and birch, and it blazed away, and crackled and 
 burnt like a pine-torch. By and by they heard 
 a most awful growling close to them. ' That's 
 a big bear, as I live,' said old Jacob, looking all 
 about, thinking to see one come out from the 
 thick bush ; but Bruin was nearer to him tha^i 
 he thought, for presently a great black beai 
 burst out from the butt-end of the great burn- 
 ing log, and made towards Jacob ; just then the 
 wind blew the flame outward, and it caught the 
 bear's thick coat, and he was all in a blaze in 
 
 11 
 
 '^■•;. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 69 
 
 a moment. No doubt the heat of the fire had 
 penetrated to the hollow of the log, where he 
 had lain himself snugly up for the winter, and 
 wakened him ; but Jacob seeing the huge black 
 brute all in a flame of fire, began to think it was 
 Satan'fc, own self come to carry him off, and he 
 roared with fright, and the bear roared with" 
 pam and rage, and my father roared with laugh- 
 ing to see Jacob's terror ; but he did not let the 
 bear laugh at him, for he seized a thick pole 
 that he had used for closing in the brands and 
 logs, and soon demolished the bear, who was so 
 blinded with the fire and smoke that be made 
 no fight ; and they feasted on roast bear's flesh 
 for many days, and got a capital skin to cover 
 them be.;.'de." 
 
 " What, Louis I after the fur was all singed ?" 
 said Catharine. 
 
 " Kate, you are- too particular," said Louis ; 
 " a story never loses, you know." 
 
 Hector laughed heartily at the adventure, 
 and enjoyed the dilemma of the bear in hia 
 winter quarters ; but Catharine was somewhat 
 shocked at the levity displayed by her cousin 
 and brother, when recounting the terror of old 
 Jacob and the sufferings of the poor bear," 
 
 "You boys are alwayr so unfeeling," she 
 eaid, gravely. 
 
 i 
 
 ndeed, Kate," said her brother, «' tue day 
 
 
 m 
 
70 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 may come when the sight of a good piece of 
 roast bear's flesh will be no unwelcome sight. 
 If' we do not And our way back to Co' J Spiir.C:^^ 
 bef'jre the winter sets in. Tve mt.y be re<iiiced to 
 as bad a state (is poor Jacob and my uncle v/'ere 
 in the pine swaiups, on ilid banks of the St. 
 John." 
 
 ''Ah!" said Catharine, tr ;:>-nb1ing, "that 
 would bo too bad to happen." 
 
 'H3ourage, ma belle, let us not despair for 
 the ;r.0TT0w. Let us see what to-morrow will 
 dc fo: V.B ; meantime, we will not neglect the 
 bless' ngs wo still possess ; see, our partridge is 
 ready, let us eat our supper, and be thankful ; 
 and for grace let us say, 'Sufficient unto the 
 day is the evil thereof.' " 
 
 Long exposure to the air had sharpened their 
 appetites — the hungry wanderers needed no 
 further invitation, the scanty meal, equally 
 divided, was soon despatched. 
 
 It is a common saying, bat excellent to be 
 remembered by any wanderers in our forest 
 wilds, that those who travel by the sun travel 
 in a circle, and usually find themselves at night 
 in the same place from whence they started in 
 the morning; so it was with our wanderers. 
 At sunset, they found themselves once more in 
 the ravine, beside the big stone, in which they 
 had rested at noon. They had imagined them 
 
THE CANADIAX CRUSCES. 
 
 71 
 
 Belvea miles and miles distant, from it; they 
 were grievously disappointed. . They had en- 
 couraged each other with the confident hope 
 that they were drawing near to the end of their 
 bewildering journey ; they were as far from 
 their home as ever, without the slightest clue 
 to guide them to the right path. Despair is not 
 a feeling which takes deep root in the youthful 
 breast. The young are always so hopeful ; so 
 confident in their own wisdom and skill in 
 averting or conquering danger; so trusting; so 
 willing to believe that there is a peculiar Provi- 
 dence watching over them. Poor children! 
 they had indeed need of such a belief to 
 strengthen their minds and encourage them 
 to fresh exertions, for new trials were at hand. 
 
 The broad moonlight had already flooded the 
 recesses of the glen with light, and all looked 
 fresh and lovely in the dew, which glittered on 
 tree and leaf, on herb and flower. Catharine, 
 who, though weary with her fatiguing wander- 
 ings, could not sleep, left the little hut of 
 boughs which her companions had put up near 
 the granite rock in the valley for her accommo- 
 dation, and ascended the western bank, where 
 the last jutting spur of its steep side formed'a 
 lofty cliff-like promontory, at the extreme 
 verge of which the roots of one tall spreading 
 oak formed a most inviting seat, from whence 
 
72 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 the traveller looked down into a level track, 
 which stretched away to the edge of the lake! 
 This flat had been the estuary of the mountain* 
 stream, which had once rushed down between 
 the hills, forming a narrow gorge ; but now, all 
 was changed ; the waters had ceased to flow, the 
 granite bed was overgrown, and carpeted with 
 deer-grass and flowers of many hues, wild fruits 
 and bushes, below; while majestic oaks and 
 pines towered above. A sea of glittering foliage 
 lay beneath Catharine's feet ; in the distance 
 the eye of the young girl rested on a belt pf 
 shining waters, which girt in the shores like a 
 silver zone; beyond, yet more remote to the 
 northward, stretched the illimitable forest. 
 
 Never had Catharine looked upon a scene 
 so still or so fair to the eye ; a holy calm seem- 
 ed to shed its influence over her young mind, 
 and peaceful tears stole down her cheeks. Not 
 a sound was there abroad, scarcely a leaf 
 stirred; she could have stayed for hours there 
 gazing on the calm beauty of nature, and com- 
 muning with her own heart, when suddenly 
 a stirring, rustling sound caught her ear; it 
 came from a hollow channel on one side of 'the 
 promontory, which was thickly overgrown with 
 the shrubby dog-wood, wild rosea, and bilberry 
 bushes. Imagine the terror' which seized the 
 poor girl, on perceiving a grisly beast breaks 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 73 
 
 'if. 
 
 tg 
 
 ing through the- covert of the bushes. With a 
 scream and a bound, which the most deadly 
 fear alone could have inspired, Catharine sprung 
 from the supporting trunk of the oak, dashed 
 down the precipitous side of the ravine; now 
 clinging to the bending sprays of the flexile 
 doo-'wood — now to some fragile birch or poplar 
 
 now trusting to the yielding heads of the 
 
 sweet-scented ceanothus, or filling her hands 
 with sharp thorns from the roses that clothed 
 the bank ; flowers, grass, all were alike clutched 
 at in her rapid and fearful descent. 
 
 A loose fragment of granite on which she 
 had unwittingly placed her foot rolled from 
 under her; unable to regain her balance she 
 fell forwards, and was precipitated through the 
 bushes into the ravine below ; conscious only of 
 unspeakable terror and an agonizing pain in 
 one of her ankles, which rendered her quite 
 powerless. The noise of the stones she had 
 dislodged in her fall and her piteous cries 
 brought Louis and Hector to her side, and they 
 bore her in their arms to the hut of boughs and 
 laid her down upon her bed of leaves and grass 
 and young pine boughs. When Catharine was 
 able to speak, she related to Louis and Hector 
 the cause of her fright. She was sure it must 
 have been a wolf by his sharp teeth, long jaws, 
 
 TU« 1««»* rAnnna aVta \\ttA VlttH 
 lie xcaav vLLvi'^^fj vis.'.' sji^^^i^ *-—-*- 
 
 
 5 
 
if 
 
 upon 
 
 W THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 of him hart filled her with terror, he vv 
 »■; •>.. a fa,_ a tree with hia eyes Ax^^ upon 
 im^U could tell them no more that happen- 
 <-A, she never felt the ground she was on; so 
 great was her fright. , 
 
 for rambhng ov. ■ ,: , . ,.„ al„„e, but Louis was 
 tuJI of tender compassion for la helk cousine 
 and would not sullar her to be chidden. Fortu 
 nately, no bones had been fractured, thou..h the 
 
 theT-f """^ "^" severely sp'rained; but 
 he pamw^ .„te„se, and after a sleepless night 
 fte boys found to their grief and dismay, tha 
 
 round. This was an unlooked-for aggravation 
 of the.r misfortune, ; to puz^ue their tvan^ering 
 w^for the p.esent impossible, rest was thdf 
 only remedy excepting the application of such 
 coolmg medicarncnt, as circumstances IZkL 
 supply them with. Cold water eonstantTy ap 
 Phed to the swollen joint was the first Ui 
 
 ,t T "'^^'""^ • ''"'■ ^'"P'« <« -"^ the lo 
 t.on, .t was not ea^y to obtain it in sufficient 
 quaa Mes They ^re fall . quarter of a mile 
 from tne lake shore, and the cS>ld springs Tear 
 VT r/«*«off; and the. Zo!^yZ 
 B^y had was the tin-pot, which hardly ™„. 
 
 fevered sufferer was intolerable, and had aiso to 
 
 iM 
 
4^' 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 78 
 
 be provided for. " Poor Catharine, what unex. 
 pected misery she now endured I 
 
 The valley and its neighbouring hills abound- 
 ed in strawberries ; they were now ripening in 
 abundance ; the ground was scarlet in places 
 with this delicious fruit ; they proved a blessed 
 relief to the poor sufferer's burning thirst. Hec- 
 tor and Louis were unwearied in supplying her 
 with them. 
 
 Louis, ever fertile in expedients, crushed the 
 cooling fruit and applied them to the sprained 
 foot ; rendering the application Htill more grate- 
 ful by spreading them upon the large, smooth 
 leaves of the sapling oak ; these he bound on 
 with strips of the leathery bark of the moose- 
 wood,* which he had found growing in great 
 abundance near the entrance of the ravine. 
 Hector, in the mean time, was not idle. After 
 having collected a good supply of ripe straw- 
 V'^rries, he climbed the hills in search of bird's 
 . js and small game. About noon he returned 
 with the good news of having discovered a 
 spring of fine water in an adjoining ravine, be- 
 neath a clump of bass-wood and black cherry- 
 trees ; he had also 1 *een so fortunate as to kill a 
 woodchuck, having met with many of thoir 
 
 * "i>M*«i j?ffttf**rM,"— Moose-wood. American mezereon, 
 leather- wood. From the Greek, dirha. a foantfun or wet plaoe, 
 tte nsoai piaoe of growth. 
 
70 
 
 1:1 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 burrows in the gravelly sides of the hills Tha 
 woodchuck seems to be a link between the rab- 
 bit and badger; its colour is that of a leveret- 
 It ohmbs like the racoon and burrows like the 
 rabbit; its eyes are large, full and dark, the lip 
 cleft, the soles of the feet naked, claws sharp 
 ears short; it feeds on grasses, grain, fruit, and 
 berries. The flesh is white, oily, and, in the 
 summer, rank, but is eaten in the fall by the 
 Indians and woodsmen; the skin is not much 
 valued. They are easily killed by dogs, though, 
 being expert cUmbers, they often baffle their 
 enemies, clinging to the bark beyond their 
 reach^ a stone or stick well-aimed soon kills 
 them, but they often bite sharply. 
 
 The woodchuck proved a providential supply 
 and Hector cheered his companions with the 
 assurance that they could not starve, as there 
 were plenty of these creatures to be found 
 They had seen one or two about the Cold 
 Springs, but they are less common in the deep 
 forest lands than on the drier, more open plains. 
 It is a great pity we have no larger vessel 
 to bring our water from the spring in," said 
 Hector, looking at the tin-pot; « one is so apt to 
 stumble among stones and tangled underwood 
 If we only had one of our old bark dishes we 
 would get a good supply at once." 
 "There is a fallen birch not far frnm *!,;»>» 
 
 ft 
 
 s 
 
 
 i 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 77 
 
 lis. Tha 
 1 the rab* 
 
 leveret ; 
 
 like the 
 Ic, the lip 
 's sharp, 
 ruit, and 
 I, in the 
 1 by the 
 ot much 
 
 though, 
 9e their 
 d their 
 on kills 
 
 supply, 
 'ith the 
 s there 
 
 found. 
 
 e Cold 
 
 le deep 
 
 plains. 
 
 vessel 
 ," said 
 ) apt to 
 rwood. 
 bes we 
 
 
 •)» 
 
 said Louis ; " I have here my trusty knife ; what 
 is there to hinder us from manufacturing a 
 vessel capable of holding water -a gallon if you 
 
 like?" 
 
 "How can you sew it together, cousin?' 
 asked Catharine; "you have neither deer 
 sinews, nor war-tap." [The Indian name for 
 the flexble roots of the tamarack, or swamp 
 larch, which they make use of inmai^ufacturing 
 the birch baskets and canoes.] 
 
 " I have a substitute at hand, ma belle," and 
 Louis pointed to the strips of leather-wood that 
 he had collected for binding the dressings on 
 his cousin's foot. 
 
 When an idea once struck Louis, he never 
 rested till he worked it out in some way. In 
 a few minutes he was busily employed, stripping 
 sheets of the ever-useful birch-bark from the 
 trunk that had fallen at the foot of the " Wolf's 
 Crag" — for so the children had named the 
 memorable spot where poor Catharine's accident 
 had occurred. 
 
 The rough outside coatings of the bark, 
 which are of silvery whiteness, but are ragged 
 from exposure to the action of the weather in 
 the larger and older trees, he peeled off, and 
 then cutting the bark so that the sides lapped 
 well over, and the corners were secured from 
 
 1* 
 
78 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRL^SOES. 
 
 Of the moosf o/jefhtlod r'\^'"P^ 
 through. The first attemn,„? °''«'' ^"^ 
 
 «d only leaked a iit 1 r'''^ '^' P"^°^<'. 
 f « «ort of flap, wU^ 1 t'.T ^''^ ^» -^°' 
 W.in cutting ii,t the bat 'If ^'^^ '^ "'" 
 Indian baskets and disW ,, ^'^ ^^P '» *e 
 J I tight and close. The If ?1 "P' ""'^ ''^^P' 
 ii= subsequent attemol f ^' ''"''^^^ *" 
 fioiencies, XouiswT'J" '^'*f "^ ''^ "e- 
 
 -"t great admi,.ti», and , VM '°°'''^ "P™ 
 bj Catharine, who almr « <• * ^ ""mmended 
 
 -i«e .atchi^, ht :S;reedi: ^"*™^ 
 
 . I'"™ was elated bv ^^'^^^"'S^- 
 ingenuity, and was fc- • "" ^iooes.rfu] 
 
 '^«^p4. "urhaS;eZ?°''^"^'^'° 
 
 'foter to bathe her no J [,'"'"' ''^^e ^Id 
 quench her thirst "),^J"'^^'' '"'''. and to 
 to Ws feet, refdyL I'Z^' '"^'^y «P™ging 
 but Hector imltlyZfZaV^', '''''' '«»'^; 
 
 ^VT^«"?*''«p<2«Citfrr' 
 
 '-eatS4^:^4™'^v'^ro:•f 
 
 "I-et us both 5; wr^ ^r^etf altogether. 
 
 Catharine east on W ! ' *'"'^^™'J ^'^uis. 
 glance. "" ''^ «»'«'■' an imploring 
 
 "^''-'eaven.e,dearloni.,.Hecto,do 
 
managed to 
 ^ing strips 
 ■ough and 
 % was but 
 G purpose, 
 ' for want 
 ;tea to aJ- 
 P in the 
 ^d keeps 
 edied in 
 ' its de- 
 'd upon 
 mended 
 ifferinga 
 
 3cessful 
 Jctlj to 
 e cold 
 iiid to 
 inging 
 bank ; 
 ousin, 
 nding 
 Louis 
 ther. 
 'buis. 
 )ring 
 
 I do 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 79 
 
 not let me be laft alone." Her sorrowful appeal 
 stayed t>ie steps of the volatile Louis. 
 
 "Go you, Hector, as you know the way; 
 I will not leave you, Kate, since I was the 
 cause of all you have suffered; I will abide 
 by you in joy or in sorrow till I see you once 
 more safe in your own dear mother's arms." 
 
 Comforted by this assurance, Catharine 
 quickly dashed away the gathering tears from 
 her cheeks, and chid her own foolish fears. 
 
 "But you know, dear cousin," she said, "I 
 am so helpless, and then the dread of that hor- 
 rible wolf makes a coward of me." 
 
 After some little time had elapsed, Hector 
 returned ; the bark vessel had done its duty to 
 admiration, it only wanted a very little im- 
 provement to make it complete. The water 
 was cold and pure. Hector had spent a little 
 time in deepening the mouth of the spring, and 
 placing some stones about it. He described 
 the ravine as being much deeper and wider, and 
 more gloomy than the one they occupied. The 
 sides and bottom were clothed with magnificent 
 oaks. It was a grand sight, he said, to stand on 
 the jutting spurs of this great ravine, and look 
 down upon the tops of the trees that lay below, 
 tossing their rounded heads like the waves of 
 a big sea. There were many lovely flowers, 
 
 vetch ftS of HAVPTqI Virif^a W.,.. T-.V- -.-_1 - 
 
 -- — .— „. ,,.{iuo, wiuc, vvuifcc, auu pea- 
 
so 
 
 THE CASADIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 SS ™™° "" «^"-- A beautiful 
 
 abundance, with ™Jf '/'""' ^^f'^'-c^ps* in 
 bottom of thfal profusion. The 
 
 with thifk «re^ ^ «'■"''"'' ■'="='"o°^d 
 
 *■ valley of the Big Stone™' " *" ™'"'' "^ *!>« 
 
 ter bad i^sensibi^Cblbtd t Irfte'" "^^ 
 
 wild -ouVa"ou,tn!f'w '°"''^"^ «"« 
 Though brought un ,n ?i^ 5 surrounded it. 
 
 yet there w^ 1?.;'' ?'^' '"'' '"'^*'«'"«'^. 
 "indsormrnersofi ''"'^'' " "<>« '" *i« 
 
 P-e-dun^u^tlhtr^^riunf-''"- 
 guiJeless earnPQf „ 3 ' ^* *^^y were 
 
 ttylaelSnrwIedrfhar'r ' """^ '^ 
 books, they posses JS'"^"" ""^'^ ^'°'^ 
 praotieal. which had b^n ttul T "''^"' ""'' 
 -dob.rvationintht:;!:r^re^2r- 
 
 ^ncAm,««, or painted-cup. •** 
 
 t The mouth of this ra-ine is nnn, ^ 
 ^avm^ fields of golden grained Zl ? '' '^' P^*^^'«^' «°d 
 place of the wild shrubs and ZtZtll T''"' ^'^' "'^'^ 
 Tie lot belongs to G. Ley a, " ^'''"'""■'^ "^'"'ned it 
 
THE CANADIAN CliUSOES. 
 
 81 
 
 beautiful 
 Morning 
 -cups* in 
 n. The 
 n places 
 Jshioned 
 t into a 
 :hofthe 
 
 to the 
 his sis- 
 
 3 grand 
 
 ntiring 
 
 ihusias- 
 
 nd the 
 
 ded it. 
 
 icated, 
 
 in the 
 Sim- 
 were 
 
 md if 
 
 ' from 
 
 il and 
 
 •ience 
 
 h, and 
 taken 
 led it 
 
 For several days the pain and fever arising 
 from her sprain rendered arty atte^ppt at re- 
 moving Catharine from the valley of the " Big 
 Stone" impracticable. The ripe fruit began to 
 grow less abundant in their immediate vicinity, 
 and neither woodchuck, partridge, nor squirrel 
 had been killed ; and our poor wanderers now 
 endured the agonizing pains of hunger. Con- 
 tinual exposure to the air by night and by day 
 contributed nt : a little to increase the desire for 
 food. It is true, there was the yet untried lake, 
 "bright, boundless, and free," gleaming in sil- 
 very splendour ; but in practice they knew noth- 
 ing of the fisher's craft, though, as a matter 
 of report, they were well acquainted with all 
 the mysteries of it, and had often listened with 
 delight to the feats performed by their respective 
 fathers in the art of angling, spearing, and net- 
 ting. 
 
 " I have heard my father say, that so bold 
 and numerous were the fish in the lakes and 
 rivers he was used to fish in, that they could 
 be taken by the hand, with a crooked pin and 
 coarse thread, or wooden spear ; but that was in 
 the lower province ; and oh, what glorious tales 
 I have heard him tell of spearing fish by torch' 
 light l" 
 
 " The fish may be wiser or not so numeroua 
 
 
 sjaid 
 
 TT- -i. . 
 
 (IT ~ i4f 
 
 
82 
 
 THJfi CAxVADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 " I 
 
 can bear to be moved, we will go down to t),, 
 shore and try our l„ek; bat what can we do 
 we have neither hook nor line provided^ 
 loma nodded bis head, and sitting down on 
 
 theS:'ofT "'^ """ °'"^' p-«'-ed fr<:: 
 
 tne depths of his capacious pocket a bit of tin 
 which he carefully selected from among a mi"' 
 cellaneous hoard of treasures. "Hel" sad 
 1% ^f '"g;' "P '0 the view as he spok / " Ze 
 r tteslide of an old powder-flask, which i nicked 
 up from am^g some rubbish that my siste had 
 thrown out the other day." ""ys^terhad 
 
 "I fear you will make nothinR of th;>t" 
 said Hector "» hit „<• i, , *> 
 
 If jou Wd a L '"""' """■'^ •''' better, 
 
 thing." "°"'' ^°'' '"'g'^t do some- 
 
 "Stay a moment, Monsieur Hec wh». 1„ 
 
 to answer m such ingenioua hands as thore „f 
 our young French Canadian. " I Zl remem 
 bar, K t,^, how you and Mathilda CghedT; 
 me for treasuring up this old thing months ago 
 Ah Louis, Louis, you little knewfhe use it w^ 
 to bo put to then," he added thoughtful v LoT 
 trophizmg himself; "how littl/^ ^', "^ 
 whot ;» t„ I /■ 11 . 'tie do we know 
 
 What 13 to befall us in our young days I" 
 
 i( 
 
THE CANADIAN* CRUS0E3. 
 
 83 
 
 "God knows it all," said Hector, gravely, 
 " we are under His good guidance." 
 
 " You are right, Hec, let us trust in His mer- 
 cy, and He will take good care of us. Come, 
 let us go to the lake," Catbarii;- "dded, and 
 sprung to lier feet, but as quickl} sank down 
 upon the grass, and regarded her companions 
 wdth a piteous look, saying, "I cannot walk one 
 step ; alas, alas ! what is to become of me? I am 
 only a useless burden to you. If you leave me 
 here, I shall fall a prey to some savage beast, 
 and you cannot carry me with you in your 
 search for food." 
 
 " Dry your tears, sweet cousin, you shall go 
 with us. Do you think that Hector or Louis 
 would abandon you in your helpless state, to die 
 of hunger or thirst, or to be torn by wolves or 
 bears ? We will carry you by turns ; the dis- 
 tance to the lake is nothing, and you are not so 
 very heavy, ma belle cousine ; see, I could dance 
 with you in my arms, you are so light a bur- 
 den," — and Louis gayly caught the suJBfering girl 
 up in hifl arms, and with rapid steps struck into 
 the deer path that wound through the ravine 
 towards the lake; but when they reached a 
 pretty rounded knoll, (where Wolf Tower* now 
 stands,) Louis would fain place his cousin on a 
 
 afloouat of ih« » Wolf Tow«r," lU Ui* Apptudix, 
 
(Mil 
 
 1 ' V 
 
 ^ THE CANADIAN CRUSOES 
 
 « her fee, whlje hel; 'Cr^ r"""" 
 
 - gathered the fruit that Jet :mt''X' ,"' 
 
 grass to refresh himself aft J I, /• °' ^ '°"8 
 
 then, whileresting on the^.1^' f ^'"'' *°' 
 
 Catharine ealled the hill t , ^''°'"' ^ 
 
 With -anufacturij ,rlsST^ 'l""'^ 
 the aid of his knife the w/T! ''°°'' ""> 
 
 file ; a bit of t,: „e was^LI Z' T^ ^ '«^ 
 have always a bit ofll^t tSirt ' -'"^^ 
 Lo«i3, as I have before hifted wir'""'^'""* 
 hoarder of ™eh small matte Th' T'^^''" 
 «oon attached to the hook a?d P f ''""g^as 
 long in cutting a saolin^V;,? ^"^^ ""^ "o' 
 purpose of afehL'K hT'""'' "^" *« 
 P^ceeded to the fa2 Zre HccSrT d '^^ 
 ^ying the crippled Cath^ne by tur^f ^r 
 there, they selected a sheltered fnotT ^'' 
 grove of overhanging cetoandt ."'*"' ^ 
 ^ned with wild vininv^fch'l^:*^^' '^- 
 
 tfpperpaT;ftfetrkrnfrh!''"'" 
 network of loose fibres and *!!• » a ^^"^ 
 
 tinkling overamossj ogtt heX T*?' *"' 
 'Pread itself among tht^undlt' T"* quietly 
 ^•at formed the b'eafh o^the at^Y^f 
 "- pleasant bower CathaHn^coSl^eptntd 
 
 '■^ 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 86 
 
 beside the 
 7 ground 
 3a ch, and 
 
 tte long 
 ?ue; and 
 owe," as 
 
 himself 
 3ok with 
 tie rustj 
 I, — bojs 
 ■eos, and 
 ■ovident 
 'ingwas 
 vas not 
 ^ell the 
 3d they 
 
 liOuis 
 
 When 
 leath a 
 3s, fes- 
 TOven, 
 to the 
 
 from 
 nging 
 s, fell 
 lietljr 
 bbles 
 leath 
 , and 
 
 watch hei companions at their novel employ- 
 ment, or bathe her feet and infirm ankle in the 
 cool streamlet that rippled in tiny wavelets over 
 its stony bed. 
 
 If the amusement of fishing prove pleasant 
 and exciting when pursued for pastime only, it 
 may readily be conceived that its interest must 
 be greatly heightened when its object is satis- 
 fying a craving degree of hunger. Among the 
 sunny spots on the shore, innumerable swarms 
 of the flying grasshopper or field crickets were 
 sporting, and one of these proved an attractive 
 bait. ■* The line was no sooner cast into the wa- 
 ter, than the hook was seized,, and many were 
 the brilliant specimens of sun-fish that our 
 eager fishermen cast at Catharine's feet, all 
 gleaming with gold and azure scales. Nor was 
 there any lack of perch, or that delicate fish 
 commonly known in these waters as the pink 
 roach. 
 
 Tired at last with their easy sport, the hungiy 
 boys next proceeded tc the grateful task of 
 scaling and dressing their fish, and this they did 
 very expeditiously, as soon as the more difficult 
 part, that of kindling up a fire on the beach, had 
 been accompMshed with the help of the flint, 
 knife, and dried rushes. The fish were then 
 suspended, Indian fashion, on forked sticks stuck 
 
 __- .._ .^ _„;i.»i»i_ i« 
 
 lii ijiis^ aii.\^i.m*x iSiixxji iiivjixi-iv^ tilt a siAXbC4i.^A^ cmMi^cj 
 
 i.U_ 
 
 , J -._J :-^i: J 
 
 8 
 
L 
 
 ! ' 
 
 Oft 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOfig 
 
 ^ead a table for us here i^ th. >/ *' '"''''^''' 
 miraculous did this am^il *^ "M«™esa;%o 
 
 &od seem in the e ' rf ^.'^^^'^ °^ ''^'''^'""^ 
 aature. ^^ °^ ""^ «mple child of 
 
 Tbey had often heard foil „<•.!. „ 
 ^iieh the feh couH f. f""" '^""''3' with 
 
 known noAingoffwtr?'"' '"' *«^ '>''<» 
 ^ the stream! and o^v If ""^ «^P^™nce, 
 
 fordedthen.bnt^HuleCnuZf''"'''^™^ 
 their skill as neler, • jP?™" '^ ^^^exercBing 
 
 Plements with IS thlv " 7'' *^ "'''^ '» 
 ™lt of their morn^t snL ^"'^^'"'' ""^ "•«• 
 of divine interCnlTnT-T.^'' "'"« '"'"' 
 
 and contented in^ht be,i "':^, t^" ^'"'"^ 
 forgotten by their ),»„„ i J; "'*'•>' ''^'^ "ot 
 "children i^ hTwood'Sf"' ^^^^ ?»- 
 tide to that beneficent b;.. "^ '''"' S^a"" 
 -en a sparrow t^ tl'unteir " ^"^^^^"" -' 
 
 the green shade s^tTed h 1*^ "^ '*« ^'t Z 
 the flowing wate^anf thf oft "°^ ^""' "' 
 the many-eoloured iZ^t th»f ^ ""'"S "^ 
 -he fragrant leaves wS thai 7r* """^S 
 
 --.WyoungheanU^t'SthtS: 
 
 I 
 
■3 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 87 
 
 »i 
 
 
 
 and holy aspirations to the great Creator of all 
 things living. A peaceful calm diffused itself 
 over her mind, as with hands meekly folded 
 across her breast, the young girl prayed with 
 the guileless fervour of a trusting and faithful 
 heart. 
 
 The sun was just sinking in a flood of glory 
 behind the dark pine-woods at the head of the 
 lake, when Hector and Louis, who had been 
 carefully providing fish for the morrow, (which 
 was the Sabbath,) came loaded with their finny 
 prey carefully strung upon a willow wand, and 
 found Catharine sleeping in her bower. Louis 
 was loth to break her tranquil slumbers, but her 
 careful brother reminded him of the danger to 
 which she was exposed, sleeping in the dew by 
 the water side; "Moreover," he added, "we 
 have some distance to go, and we have left the 
 precious axe and the birch-bark vessel in th*e 
 valley." 
 
 These things were too valuable to be lost, and 
 BO they roused the sleeper, and slowly recom- 
 menced their toilsome way, following the same 
 path that they had made in the morning. For- 
 tunately, Hector had taken the precaution to 
 bend down the flexile branches of the dogwood 
 and break the tops of the young trees that they 
 had passed between on their route to the lake, 
 
 
 
88 
 
 I 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRdsoES. 
 
 •»"f 3 by the rockfn the™,i:V " "'"'"" °' 
 
 ^ith the &h. it ;: rir.""^"^''''^- 
 
 «oon clouded the see/e Teepetdt 1'T"'«'" 
 
 masses of foJiase. which .,« ^ "''' '''''^J' 
 
 of obscurity up^n 1 'v „ " ^""'^'- 'J-'gree 
 
 iad now left the oallt T^ ''^"' ' ''« "-^y 
 
 of the valley. The ^fte ll r"'"'''' ""^ Sorge 
 
 .*He grotes Je .hadow:'oTtS;Th°f '!" P^'"' 
 in long array aoros.! ihl 7 , ' *^' stretched 
 «de, teking,~l*VttP ^'"^^ ""^ «*er 
 
 f»> shape, a^akened'^'tra^retl-"'''' ""'' '"''»- 
 tbe mind of these !„'/? '^^'■''gs of dread in 
 
 »ost pei^ona bred Zl rlV'^'^'''''' '*« 
 fc- '.re str^Jy^I:^""^^heir imagina- 
 
 6a.^. Here thef i th! f T * .'"P«''3«'ioU8 
 
 from their beloyed pa-e J,"^ ^ ""''^™^^' ''^ 
 
 with no visible .r^t!^:^:^^^' ^'^''' 
 
 none to encourage or^to che '"r ^^f ' 
 
 matter of surnri«> ,Y ti, "' "^^ " be 
 
 tied the leaves or waved t ^'''V'''' '^ 
 them ? ^^"^ *^^ branches abori 
 
 The gay and lively Louis h]\fh. 
 bird in the bright sunliV^r' . ^' ^"^ ^^^^ 
 
 oppressed by this tZ^' ""^^ '^' "^'^^ ^^^^^J^ 
 a Dj this strange superstitious fear wK.^ 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 89 
 
 '■j nothing 
 'jgwam of 
 
 burdened 
 ^ily laden 
 
 he heavy 
 T degree 
 for they 
 he gorge 
 he path, 
 tretched 
 n either 
 d fanci- 
 [read in 
 "3; like 
 oagina- 
 stitioua 
 3SS, far 
 learth, 
 anger, 
 lit be 
 ;errDr- 
 t ru*- 
 aboT? 
 
 wild 
 asily 
 vheu 
 
 ■>M 
 
 the shades of evening were closing round, and 
 he would start with ill-disguised terror at every 
 sound or shape that met his ear or eye, though 
 the next minute he was the first to laugh at his 
 own weakness. In Hector, the feeling was of a 
 graver, more solemn cast, recalling to his mind 
 all the wild and wondrous tales w' ' which his 
 father was wont to enteitain tL a Idrcn, as 
 they crouched round the huge log-fire of an 
 evening. It is strange the charm these mnrvel- 
 lous tales possess for the youthful mind, no mat- 
 ter how improbable, or how often told; year 
 after year they will be listened to with the same 
 ardour, with an interest that appears to grow 
 with repetition. And still, as they slowly wan- 
 dered along. Hector would repeat to his breath- 
 less auditors those Highland legends that were 
 as familiar to their ears as household words, and 
 still they listened with fear and wonder, and 
 deep awe, till at each pause he made, the deep- 
 drawn breath and half repressed shudder might 
 be heard. And now the little party paused ir- 
 resolutely, fearing to proceed,— they had omitted 
 to notice some land-mark in their progress ; the 
 moon had not long been up, and her light was 
 as yet indistinct ; so they set them down on a 
 little grassy spot on the bank, and rested till 
 the moon should lighten their path. 
 Louis was confident they were not far from 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 'V %^ 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
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 ■%^ 
 
 
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 <" MP. 
 
 
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90 
 
 THE CAXADIAX ORUSOES. 
 
 the valley and themass of r„1.T '^''""S ''°'' 
 tiem for ao many n^!^.' "'^'''^'^ ^'^«I*«'-«^d 
 
 »«o in sight, r.hat:^^~rri"'»'- 
 
 now risen moon fell unor,7 ''«''' "^ «ie 
 
 were nearer to it ZnT't''."^^'^ ^'^^i "^^^ 
 
 "Forward for 'TTp ^c^*^ ^'n^gined. 
 -«<' cried I^ui.^^^'«S'°''«'<»d the wig 
 
 -•l?ht;L:dtith?wT^' "'"* '"-. 
 ;; Where ? whar?" "« ^^'""^ 
 
 "The wolf I the wolf I" ™ j 
 
 terrified sirl Th»r„ • j i ^"'P^'^ ""t the 
 
 '-"toher, stood 1 In « f " ^'^^^ « 
 "ho spoke, a longwl^d"^^ "^T'' '«"' - 
 »««med as if it can^ ' i^^' I "^"""^ °^ "Wot 
 «nd the tops of Z^r^"*-^ ^^^^ ^a earth 
 
 with speechless horror tl.. "' ^^'^ ^ 
 
 dark outline of thrL^h^ ?^^ "1»- '^^ 
 
 «tood, with it. U'a Sd 1''^'; ^''«'« i' 
 
 outward, and ears erecra^ -f t "?^. ^l^'^''«J 
 "■at gave back thosTdill^ *^?'' *^ ^^° 
 
5r had txia 
 le children 
 feeJing for 
 
 i sheltered 
 dark mass 
 ht of the 
 des; thej^ 
 led. 
 the wig 
 
 there, 
 
 B. 
 
 )ut the 
 summit 
 tirel or 
 ) and as 
 ' which 
 e earth 
 bridge 
 rts, aa 
 3n the 
 ere it 
 3tched 
 5 echo 
 lother 
 »g or 
 1 the 
 nged 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 91 
 
 cry of some poor fugitive animal, — a doe, or 
 fawn, perhaps, — in the very climax of mortal 
 agony'; and then the lonely recesses of the 
 forest took up that fearful death-cry, the far- 
 off shores of the lake and the distant islands 
 prolonged it, and the terrified children clung 
 together in fear and trembling. 
 
 A few minutes over, and all was still. The 
 chase had turned across the hills to some distant 
 ravine ; the wolves were all gone — not even the 
 watcher was left, and the little valley lay once 
 more in silence, with all its dewy roses and 
 sweet blossoms glittering in the moonlight ; but 
 though around them all was peace and loveliness, 
 it was long ere confidence waa restored to the 
 hearts of the panic-stricken and trembling chil- 
 dren. They beheld a savage enemy in every 
 mass of leafy shade, and every rustling bough 
 struck fresh terrors into their excited mijByiJs. 
 They might have exclaimed with the patilirch 
 Jacob, " How dreadful is this plac« 1" 
 
 With hand clasped in hand, they sat them 
 down among the thick covert of the bushes, for 
 now they feared to move forward, lest the 
 wolves should return ; sleep was long a stranger 
 to their watchful eyes, each fearing to be the only 
 one left awake, and long and painful was their 
 vigil. Yet nature, overtasked, at length gave 
 v/Ay, and sleep came down upon their eyelids; 
 
^2 THE CAXADIA^V CRUSOES 
 
 their forest-ted, afd thefo„ld„f ^ °"v °' °^ 
 and twittering tirds olT^^ T"® ^""^^^ 
 
 ^ m and 4ht r. .^g^xrtrv'^™ 
 
 dreams of home and friend, M u "PP^ 
 
 of loneliness and desot o„.^ ^^^tZ'^T, 
 
 «ot wander fer from the valley bTt took Jr 
 caution, as evening drewon t^'i i^. , "P"^" 
 
 t-e b.a.e of whifhX XXVK^^' 
 
 s^:Th^:!i p7->e/hadrotnt:F 
 
 provea an ample supply. The huokleberri^, 
 were ripening too, and soon afforded th„ 
 never-failing source of food, tCtl ^Z.n 
 
 :' whir "' .'"■"""■ "'^ --' rifh be'rri" 
 «nr ^^'^-Vbesidesbeingve^ 
 
 
 ' H 
 
1 the broad 
 Jurtains of 
 ng boughs 
 sned them 
 5ra happy 
 ling sense 
 ' they did 
 k the pre- 
 large fire, 
 uld keep 
 
 want of 
 ^7 before 
 leberries 
 
 them a 
 
 also an 
 
 berries 
 ng very 
 
 THE CAJ^ADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 98 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Oh for a lodge in the vaat wilderness, -^ 
 
 The boundless contiguity of shade I" 
 
 A FORTNIGHT had now passed, and Cath- 
 arine still suffered so much from pain and 
 fever, that they were unable to continue their 
 wanderings ; all that Hector and his cousin could 
 do, was to carry her to the bower by the lake, 
 where she reclined whilst they caught fish. The 
 painful longing to regain their lost home had lost 
 nothing of its intensity; and often would the poor 
 sufferer start from her oed of leaves and boughs, 
 to ring her hands and weep, and call in piteous 
 tones upon that dear father and mother, who 
 would have given worlds, had they been at their 
 command, to have heard but one accent of her 
 beloved voice, to have felt one loving pressure 
 from that fevered hand. Hope, the consoler, 
 hovered over the path of the young wanderers 
 long after she had ceased to whisper comfort to 
 the desolate hearts of the mournful parents. 
 
 Of all that suffered by this sad calamity, no 
 one was more to be pitied than Louis Perron • 
 deeply did the poor boy lament the thoughtless 
 
84 
 
 THE C.AXADIAxV CRUS0E3. 
 
 been with me -rtT " ^"'^ ^ad „6t 
 We been ta- tS„ '''' ""' ^"'^^'-^ ■"" 
 earefu,. he -ifn^Cer rf:r"'^ 
 but we were so heedlesst. .J ?'"'"?"* •' 
 flowera and insect, If v^ *°"Sht onlj of 
 
 paid no he:dr:?r wj^?:'^™"^ '"•''-. and 
 is life. ThevounJn? ^"s Perron, such 
 
 flies that atS the! InT"^, "^^ ^ ''"««^- 
 and amusement; th^ W thr "' P''*'™ 
 of «.e thoughtful, till Z%fd thr TT'' 
 have followed is b^set with briL ajl '^ 
 and a thousand painful difficuZ th J ™ ' 
 seen, unexpected, overwhel™,?!. "'^''^•'"- 
 
 a sad sense of th;iro™S"nd''V'^" '^ 
 punishment of their erroT^ ' ^'^^P" «>« 
 themselves alone, but "non 7 •""" '^" "i^" 
 
 We..nowin,;,b:enrarp-S.t 
 
 4Xtrndr:::^r^fo-an 
 
 to her, when his own W "« t '™" 4"^'^ 
 /y- -ad, to overflo^^hr .''"^^' ""' "^ 
 
 w" uome, he wonM aor. */_ 
 
 ""J I we 
 
 y 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 05 
 
 Catharine 
 ' had n6t 
 lould not 
 us and so 
 ttle-path ; 
 only of 
 it^es, and 
 "on, such 
 > gather- 
 T butter- 
 pleas upQ 
 counsels 
 th thej 
 thorns ; 
 'ere un- 
 'hem to 
 ips the 
 • upon 
 t, who 
 ors in 
 
 to all 
 
 ite his 
 
 Day, 
 
 ^ajly 
 
 1 hi8 
 
 ithe 
 we 
 
 might spend our time most happily upon these 
 charming plains; it is much more delightful 
 here than in the dark, thick woods ; see how 
 brightly the sunbeams come down and gladden 
 the ground, and cover the earth with fruit and 
 flowers. It is pleasant to be able to fish and 
 hunt, and trap the game. Yes, if they were all 
 here, we would build us a nice log-house, and 
 clear up these bushes on the flac near the lake. 
 This 'Elfin Knowe,' as you call it, Kate, would 
 be a nice spot to build upon. See these glori- 
 ous old oaks ; not one should be cut down, anCi 
 we should have a boat and a canoe, and voyage 
 across to yonder islands. "Would it not be 
 charming, ma belle ?" and Catharine, smiling at 
 the picture drawn so eloquently, ^^-ould. enter 
 into the spirit of the project, and say, — 
 
 " Ah ! Louis, that would be pleasant." 
 
 "If we had but my father's rifle now," said 
 Hector, " and old Wolfe." 
 
 " Yes, and Fanchette, dear little Fanchette, 
 that trees the partridges and black squirrels," 
 said Louisy' 
 
 " I saVa doe and a half-grown fawn beside 
 her this very morning, at break of day," said 
 Hector. " The fawn was so little fearful, that 
 if I had had a stick in my hand, I could have 
 killed it. I came within ten yards of the spot 
 
 nr'Kava i+ at/v-»/1 T l?ni/\\Br if xirrknl/l Ko aapir \jr\ 
 
96 
 
 IHE OANAWAH 0BP30ES. 
 
 «.toh one by making a dead-faU." [A sort of 
 rap m which game is taken in the woods, or on 
 
 the banks of creeks.] 
 
 „."r^ "7/"^ ^''i ^ ^"^" ^^^° to frolic about 
 us like Mignon, dear innocent Mignon " cr^d 
 
 Cathanne,"Ishould never feel lonfljthen" 
 And we should never want for meat if wa 
 
 ^uHca^h a fine fawn from time to 2;f:: 
 
 " Heo, what are you thinking of?" 
 "I was thinking, Louis, that if we were 
 doomed to remain here all our lives, we must 
 buUd a house for ou^elves,- we could n^tTe 
 
 done. The summer wUI soon pass, and the 
 rainy season will come, and the bi ter frosS 
 ancl^snows of winter will have ,„ be pJS 
 
 " But, Hector, do you really think there is no 
 ^ance of finding our way back to Cold Spring? 
 We^know It must be behind thia lake," sdd 
 
 " True, but whether east, west, or south we 
 
 .s but a chance, and if once we leave the lakl 
 and get involved in the mazes of thai dark 
 forest, we should perish, for we know there t 
 
 as there is here, and we might be soon .t,^^ 
 
[A sort of 
 oods, or on 
 
 folic about 
 ion," cried 
 Y then." 
 neat, if we 
 > time, ma 
 
 we were 
 I we must 
 I not live 
 we have 
 and the 
 ter frosts 
 provided 
 
 ere is no 
 Springs ? 
 ce," said 
 
 3uth, we 
 like now 
 ;he lake 
 al dark 
 there is 
 be had 
 
 AfSkTrrtxA 
 — '■^"^ r \j\Jk 
 
 THE CATjTADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 »7 
 
 to ileatli. God was good who led us beside thia 
 fine lake, and upon these fruitful plains." 
 
 " It is a good thing that I had my axe when 
 we started from home," said Hector. "We 
 should not have been so well off without it; we 
 shall find the use of it if we have to build a 
 house. We must look out for some spot where 
 there is a spring of good water, and — " 
 
 " No horrible wolves," interrupted Catharine : 
 " though I love this pretty ravine, and the banks 
 and braes about us, I do not think I shall- like 
 to stay here. I heard the wolves only last night, 
 when you and Louis were asleep." 
 
 " We must not forget to keep watch-fires." 
 
 " What shall we do for clothes ?" said Catha- 
 rine, glancing at her home-spun frock of wool 
 and cotton plaid. 
 
 "A weighty consideration, indeed," sighed 
 Hector ; • " clothes must be provided before ours 
 are worn out, and the winter comes on." 
 
 " We must save all the skins of the wood- 
 chucks and squirrels," suggested Louis ; " and 
 fawns when we catch them." 
 
 " Yes, and fawns when we get them," added 
 Hoctor; "but it is time enough to think of all 
 these things ; we must not give up all hope of 
 home." 
 
 " I give up all hope ? I shall hope on while 
 I have life," said Catharine. " My dear, dear 
 9 
 
»8 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 father, he will never forget hU lost chUdren ; h. 
 will try and find us, alive or dead; he will never 
 give up the search." 
 
 Poor child, how long did this hope burn like 
 •living torch in thy guileless breast I How 
 onen, as they roamed those hills and valleys 
 
 of the dark ravmes and thick bushes, with the 
 hope that they would meet the advancing form 
 and outstretched arms of thy earthly parents! 
 all in vam-yet the arms of thy heavenly Fa- 
 ther we. e extended over thee, to guide, to guard, 
 and to sustain thee. ' 
 
 How often were Catharine's hands filled with 
 wild-flowers, to car^r home, as she fondly said, 
 
 how often did your bouquets fade; howofej 
 did the sad exile water them with her tears- 
 
 wtr "^ "" ^°^ *''"' '^^^P^ ^'^« despair 
 When they roused them in the morning to 
 recommence their fruitless wanderings, fhey 
 
 rtr .''"'' °"'''' "P-t»P^westai Z 
 our father-he may find us here to-day ;" but 
 evening came, and stUl he came not, an^ they 
 
 C k!° "l""; "" ""'' ^^'^'''' ''°°'« *an they 
 had been the day previous. ^ 
 
 "If we could but find our way back to the 
 
 Cold Creek,' we might, by following its course. 
 
 return to Cold Springs," said Hector ^ 
 
 fi 
 
 r 
 
Idren; ho 
 will never 
 
 burn like 
 1 1 How 
 1 valleys, 
 Y recesses 
 with the 
 5ing form 
 parents I 
 ^enly Fa- 
 to guard, 
 
 led with 
 dlj said, 
 itharine, 
 >w often 
 tears,— 
 espair. 
 ning to 
 8, they 
 lall see 
 r ;" but 
 id they 
 m they 
 
 to the 
 course^ 
 
 fj 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 99 
 
 "I doubt much the fact of the 'Cold Creek' 
 having any connection with our Spring," said 
 Louis ; " I think it has its rise in the ' Beaver 
 Meadow,' and following its course would only 
 entangle us among those wolfish balsam and ce- 
 dar swamps, or lead us yet further astray into 
 the thick recesses of the pine forest. For my 
 part, I believe wa are already fifty miles from 
 Cold Springs." 
 
 It is one of the bewildering mistakes that all 
 persons who lose their way in the pathless woods 
 fall into, they have no idea of distance, or the 
 points of the compass, unless they can see the 
 sun rise and set, which is not possible to do 
 when surrounded by the dense growth of forest- 
 trees ; they rather measure distance by the time 
 they have been wandering, than by any other 
 token. 
 
 The children knew that they had been a long 
 time absent from home, wandering hither and 
 thither, and they fancied their journey had been 
 as long as it had been weary. They had indeed 
 the comfort of seeing the ^'in in his course from 
 ea§t to west, but they knew not in what direc- 
 tion the home they had lost lay ; it was this 
 that troubled them in their choice of the course 
 they should take each day, and at last deter- 
 mined them to lose no more time so fruitlessly, 
 wViATA the n«ril was so crreat. but seek for somo 
 
 J .. — -- o - » 
 
 % 
 
100 _ TrTE CAXADIAK CR0SOES. 
 
 pleasant spot where they might pass their time 
 in safety, and provide for their present and fu- 
 tur» wants. 
 
 " TJ. ,„rtd w„ Jl before th.™, ,h,„ ,„ ,k„„. 
 Th.lr pl«c» of rot, „d Provid,„08 their goido." 
 
 Catharine declared her ankle was so much 
 
 her health so mneh amended, that the day afler 
 the conv«.^t,on just recorded, the little party 
 bade farewell to the valley of the "Big Stone " 
 and ascending the steep sides of the hills, be,;t 
 their steps e^tward, keeping the lake to their 
 eft hand Hector led the ,ay, loaded with 
 the,r household utensils, which consisted onirof 
 
 him^lf, the tm-pot, and the birch basket. Loui, 
 had his cousin to assist up the steep banks like- 
 
 ryr.^eto:^^"'"^^^'-"^-^' 
 
 The wanderers thought at first to explore the 
 ground near the lake shore, but soon abandon^ 
 this res<JuUop, on finding the undar-growth o7 
 ^3 and bushes become so thick, That thj 
 made httle progress; and the fatigue of travel 
 
 to™,rr!u^u°T'^''''y''"'"S<'™«naally 
 to put aside the bushes or bend them down 
 
 Hector advised trying the higher ground- 
 «id after following a deer-path through a ^ll 
 
THS CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 lOx 
 
 their time 
 nt and fu. 
 
 hoose 
 ■uide." 
 
 80 much 
 ident, and 
 
 day after 
 fctle party 
 g Stone," 
 tills, bent 
 
 to their 
 3ed with 
 i only of 
 
 one but 
 t. Lcmis 
 iks, like- 
 a caught 
 
 •lore the 
 mdoned 
 )wth of 
 at they 
 ' travel- 
 tinually 
 wn. 
 ground ; 
 
 ravine that crossed the hills, they found them- 
 selves on a fine extent of table-land, richly, but 
 not too densely wooded with white and black 
 oaks, diversified with here and there a solitary 
 pine, which reared its straight and pillar-like 
 trunk in stately grandeur above its leafy com- 
 panions; a meet eyrie for the bald-eagle that 
 kept watch from its dark crest over the silent 
 waters of the lake, spread below like a silver 
 zone studded with emeralds. 
 
 In their progress, they passed the bead of 
 many small ravines, which divided the hilly 
 ehores of the lake into deep furrows. These fur- 
 rows had once been channels, by which the 
 waters of some upper lake (the site of which is 
 now dry land) had at a former period poured 
 down into the valley, filling the basin of what 
 now is called the Kice liake. These waters with 
 resistless course had ploughed their way between 
 tbo hills, bearing in their course those blocks of 
 granite ai. a limestone which are so widely scat 
 tered both on the hill-tops and the plains, or 
 form a rocky pavement at the bottom of the 
 narrow defiles. What a sight of sublime deso- 
 lation must that outpouring of the waters have 
 presented, when those steep banks were riven 
 by the sweeping torrents that were loosened 
 from their former bounds I The pleased eye 
 
 roof a 11 if\f\r\ 4- n ooa +th» t* r< ii 1 1 on r\i»oa n r\w t%nxrg\r*jari 
 
102 
 
 THE CAXADIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 \-i\ 
 
 With oaks and pines, or waving with a flood of 
 golden grain, or varied bj neat dwellings and 
 fruitful gardens ; and the gazer on that peaceful 
 scene scarcely pictures to himself what it must 
 have been when no living eye was thereto mark 
 the rushing floods, when they scooped to them- 
 selves the deep bed in which they now repose. 
 
 Those lovely islands that sit like stately 
 crowns upon the waters, were doubtless the 
 wreck that remained of the valley ; elevated 
 spots, whose rocky basis withstood the force of 
 the rushing waters, that carried away the lighter 
 portions of the soil. The southern shore, seen 
 from the fake, seems to lie in regular ridges run 
 ning from south to north ; some few are parallel 
 with the lake-shore, possibly where some insur 
 mountable impediment turned the current of the 
 subsiding waters; but they all find an outlet 
 through their connection with ravines communi- 
 cating with the lake. 
 
 There is a beautiful level tract of land, mth 
 only here and there a solitary oak growing upon 
 It, or a few stately pines ; it is commonly called 
 the "upper Race-course," merely on account of 
 the smoothness of the surface; it forms a high 
 table-land, nearly three hundred feet above the 
 lake, and is surrounded by high hills. This 
 spot, though now dry and covered with turf and 
 uowers, and low bushes, has evidently once 
 
 
 ssHfBfsasmmi 
 
THE CAJ^ADIAN CRUS0E9. 
 
 108 
 
 a flood of 
 llings and 
 it peaceful 
 at it must 
 re to mark 
 
 to them- 
 ■ repose, 
 e stately 
 )tless the 
 
 elevated 
 5 force of 
 le lighter 
 ore, seen 
 3ges run 
 3 parallel 
 ne insur 
 jntof the 
 an outlet 
 ommuni- 
 
 ad, ^th 
 ingupon 
 Ij called 
 3ount of 
 s a high 
 3ove the 
 3. This 
 turf and 
 tly once 
 
 
 been a broad sheet of water. To the eastward 
 Ues a still more lovely and attraeUye spot, 
 knownasthe-lowerKace-coarse-.l^sona 
 
 lower level than the former one, ""d, 'keit, is 
 embanked by a ridge of d,stant klls i bo^h 
 have ravines leading down to the K,oe Lake 
 and may have been the sources from whence its 
 Sannd was filled. Some convulsion of nature 
 S a remote period, by raising the waters above 
 their natural level, might have ^auaed a disrup- 
 tion of the banks, end dram.a the. r beds, as 
 they now appear ready for the P'o»gtshare or 
 the spade. In the month of June these flate are 
 brilliant with the splendid blossoms of the m- 
 chroma, or painted-cup, the azure lupine and 
 snowy trimum roses scent the evemng air, and 
 grow as if planted by the hand of taste. 
 
 A carpeting of the small downy saxi&age* 
 with its white sUky leaves covers the g™«^d m 
 early spring. In the fall, it^is red with «ie 
 bnght berries and dark, boi-shaped leav^ of a 
 species of creeping winter-green, that the In- 
 dians call spieeberry; the leaves are highly 
 aromatic, and it is medicinal as well as agree- 
 able to the taste and smell. In the month of 
 Julv a gorgeous assemblage of martagon lilies 
 take the place of the lupine and trilUums ; these 
 
1(H 
 
 THE OAXADIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 splendid lilies vary from orange to the brightest 
 scarlet; various species of sunflowers and core- 
 opsts next appear, and elegant white p^rolas* 
 scent the air and charm the eye. The delicate 
 i-ac and white shrubby asters next appear, and 
 these are followed by the large, deep blue gen- 
 tian, and here and there by the elegant fringed 
 gentoan.t These are the latest and loveliest of 
 the flowers that adorn this tract of land It ia 
 indeed a garden of nature's own planting, but 
 the wild garden is being converted into fields 
 of gram, and the wild flowers give place to a 
 new race of vegetables, less ornamental, but 
 more useful to man and the races of domestic 
 animals that depend upon him for their sud- 
 port. *^ 
 
 Our travellers, aiter wandering over this lovely 
 plain, found themselves, at the close of the day 
 at the head of a fine ravine,^ where they had 
 the good fortune to perceive a spring of pure 
 water, oozing beneath some large moss-covered 
 bloci3 of black water-worn granite ; the ground 
 was thickly covered with moss about the edges 
 of the spnng, and maqy varieties of flowering 
 shrubs and fruits were scattered along the val- 
 ley and up the steep sides of the surrounding 
 
 * Pyrolarotundifolia, P.asarifolia. 
 f Gontiana luiearis, G. orenata. 
 ^ 1 Kilvert's Ravine, above Pine-tree Point. 
 
 • ^ 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 105 
 
 5 brightest 
 i and core* 
 3 'pyrolas* 
 le delicate 
 »pear, and 
 blue gen* 
 It fringed 
 i^eliest of 
 id. It ia 
 iting, but 
 ito fields 
 lace to a 
 ital, but 
 domestio 
 aeir sup- 
 is love! J 
 the day, 
 hej had 
 of pure 
 covered 
 ground 
 e edges 
 )wering 
 the val- 
 •undmg 
 
 hills There were whortleberries, or huckleber- 
 ries/as they are more usually called, in abun- 
 dance ; bilberries dead ripe, and falling from the 
 bushes at a touch. The vines that wreathed 
 the low bushes and climbed the trees were load- 
 ed with clusters of grapes, but these were yet 
 hard and green; dwarf filberts grew on the dry 
 gravelly sides of the hills, yet the rough, prickly 
 calyx that enclosed the nut, filled their fingers 
 with minute thorns, that irritated the skin like 
 the stings of the nettle ; but as the kernel when , 
 ripe was sweet and good, they did not mmd the 
 consequences. The moist part of the valley 
 was occupied by a large bed of May-apples,* the 
 fruit of which was of unusual «ize, but they 
 were not ripe, August being the month when 
 they ripen; there were also wild plums still 
 green, and wild cherries and blackberries ripen- 
 ing: there were great numbers of the wood- 
 chucks' burrows on the hills, while partridges 
 and quails were seen under the thick covert of 
 the blue-berried dog-wood,t that here grew in 
 abundance at the mouth of the ravine where it 
 opened to the lake. As this spot offered many 
 
 • i>«fo«%Ktw»i)aZ»wto,-Mandrake, or May-apple. 
 
 ♦ C^L\erkm. The blue berries of thia shrub are eaten 
 by the partridge and wild-duoks ; also by the paeons ««i<i other 
 birds. There are several species of this shrub obmmon tc the 
 
 SI T -Ua 
 ICO XJOCVB ^ 
 
106 
 
 THPJ CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 advantages, our travellers halted for the night, 
 and resolved to make it their head-quarters for 
 a season, till thej should meet with an eligible 
 situation for building a winter shelter. 
 
 Here, then, at the'^ead of the valley, sheltered 
 by one of the rounded hills that formed its 
 sides, our young people erected a summer hut, 
 somewhat after the fashion of an Indian wig- 
 wam, which was all the shelter that was requisite 
 while the weather remained so warm. Through 
 the opening at the gorge of this ravine they 
 enjoyed a peep at the distant waters of the lake 
 which terminated the vista, while they were 
 quite removed from its unwholesome vapours. 
 
 The temperature of the air for some days had 
 been hot and sultry, scarcely modified by the 
 cool delicious breeze that usually sety in about 
 nine o'clock, and blows most refreshingly till 
 , four or five in the afternoon. Hector and Louis 
 had gone down to fish for supper, while Catharine 
 busied herself in collecting leaves and dried 
 deer-grass, moss, and fern, of which there was 
 abundance near the spring. The boys had 
 promised to cut some fresh cedar boughs near 
 the lake shore, and bring them up to form a 
 foundation for their bed, and also to strew 
 Indian-fashion over the floor of the hut by way 
 of a carpet. This sort of carpeting reminds one 
 of the times when the palaces of the English 
 
 41 ** 9 * 
 
 iSSHHffi 
 
THK CANADIAN CKl'SOKA 
 
 107 
 
 kings were strewed with rusl.es, and brings to 
 mind the old song:— 
 
 .. Oh I the golden d.ya of good Queen Bess 
 Wherth! floors were Btr.v.Mwth^^ 
 And the doors wont on the latch 
 
 * fi,aT, vou my refined young 
 Despse not then, you, n^y >,^ thpse 
 
 carpet of cedar or hemlook-spruoo 'P"g? »'^^^° 
 %Ly over ''■e -rthe\floor, w- -_^t.e» 
 
 ;srof ^- "o^-^- - T^ 
 
 :t:2tri V a Keap of j>-^«^^^»^? 
 .rr^naed was to them as pleasant as beds oi 
 down and V rude hut of bark and poles, as 
 mnrtnins of silk or damask, 
 "ng collected as much of taesematenalsas 
 sttf^I^med sufficient for the purpose, Catharine 
 „?xt gathered up dry oak branches, plenty of 
 wulh lay scatte.^ here and there to make a 
 :S-&e for the night, and ^^^^'^^ 
 Id warm, she sat down on a little hdloc^ 
 teneTth thL cooling shade of a grove of young 
 ^^et. that grew nearthehut; pleased with th. 
 
108 
 
 THE CANADIAX ClUSOES. 
 
 dancing of the leaves, which fluttered above her 
 head, and fanned her warm cheek with their 
 incessant motion, she thought, like her cousin 
 Louise, that the aspen was the merriest tree in 
 the forest, for it was always dancing, dancing, 
 dancing, even when all the rest were still. 
 
 She watched the gathering of the distant 
 thunder-clouds, which cast a deeper, more sombre 
 shade upon the pines that girded the northern 
 shores of the lake as with an ebon frame. 
 Insensibly her thoughts wandered far away 
 from the lonely spot whereon she sat, to the 
 stoup^^in front of her father's house, and in 
 memory's eye she beheld it all exactly as sha 
 had left it. There stood the big spinning-wheel, 
 just as she had set it aside; the hanks of dyed 
 yam suspended from the rafters, the basket filled 
 with the carded wool ready for her work. She 
 saw in fancy her father, with his fine athletic 
 upright figure, his sunburnt cheeks and cluster- 
 ing sable hair, his clear, energetic hazel eye ever 
 beaming upon her, his favourite child, with 
 looks of love and kindness as she moved to and 
 fro at her wheel.f There, too, was her mother, 
 with her light step and sweet, cheerful voice, 
 
 * The Datflh word for verandah, which is still in oommoo 
 Qse among the Canadians. 
 
 t Such is the method of working «t the large weol wheel, 
 Bnkuown except in Obnada. 
 
■§ 
 
 1 above her 
 with their 
 her cousin 
 iest tree in 
 ig, dancing, 
 I still. 
 
 the distant 
 lore sombre 
 le northern 
 bon frame, 
 far away 
 sat, to the 
 ise, and in 
 ctly as she 
 tting-wheel, 
 ks of dyed 
 )asket filled 
 vork. She 
 ine athletic 
 tnd cluster- 
 sel eye ever 
 jhild, with 
 ved to and 
 ler mother, 
 ffful voice, 
 
 ill in oommon 
 e w«ol wheel, 
 
 1 .f 
 
 
"»4iii Vimiimimiipii 
 
 ''Of. 
 
 ' ■^v. 
 
 '"^J^-^-^^^. ^ 
 
 i'fr- 
 
 ^■V\.(tJ^ "i^ -«** "-^S-^-f-***;^*-*:!* 
 
THE CANADIAN 0RUSOE9. 
 
 109 
 
 •U6t^ 
 
 m 
 
 amgincr as she parsaed her daily avocations, 
 and Donald and Kenneth driving up the cows 
 to be milked, or chopping firewood. And as 
 these images, hke the figures of the magic 
 lantern, passed in all their living colours before 
 her mental vision, her head drooped heavier 
 and lower till it sunk upon her arm, and then 
 she started, looked round, and slept again, her 
 face deeply buried in her young bosom ; and 
 long and peacefully the young girl slumbered. 
 
 A sound of hurrying feet approaches, a wild 
 iry is heard and panting breath, and the sleeper 
 with a startling scream sprang to her feet; she 
 dreamed that she was struggling in the fangs of 
 ft wolf— its grisly paws were clasped about her 
 throat ; the feeling was agony and suffbcation-- 
 her languid eyes open. Can it be ?— what is it 
 that she sees ? Yes, it is Wolfe ; not the fierce 
 creature of her dreams by night and her fears 
 by day, but her father's own brave, devoted dog. 
 What joy, what hope rushed to her heart! She 
 threw herself upon the shaggy neck of thie faith- 
 ful beast, and wept from the fulness of heart. 
 
 "Yes," she joyfully cried, "I knew that I 
 should see him again. My own dear, dear, 
 loving father! Father! father! dear, dear 
 father; here are your children. Come, come 
 quickly !" and she hurried to the head of the 
 valley, raising her voice, that the beloved parent, 
 
 'lO 
 
 ■J 
 
I I 
 
 j 
 
 iiii 
 
 110 
 
 THE CANADIAN CUUSOES. 
 
 Who she now conlidently believed was ap- 
 proaching, might be guided to the spot by the 
 well-known sound of her voice. 
 
 Poor child I the echoes of thy eager voice, 
 prolonged by every projecting headland of the 
 valley, replied in mocking tones, " Come 
 quickly I" 
 
 Bewildered she paused, listened breathlessly 
 and again she called, » Father, come quickly 
 come I and again the deceitful sounds were 
 repeated, " Quickly come 1" 
 
 The faithful dog, who had succeeded in track- 
 ing the steps of his lost mistress, raised his 
 head and erected his ears, as she called on her 
 fathers name; but he gave no joyful bark of 
 recognition bb he was wont to do when he heard 
 his masters step approaching. Still Catharine 
 could not but think that Wolfe had only hurried 
 on before, and that her father must be verv 
 near. -^ 
 
 The sound of her voice had been heard by 
 her brother and cousin, who, oaring some evil " 
 beast had made its way to the wigwam, hastily 
 wound up their line, and left the fishing-ground 
 to hurry to her assistance. They could hardly 
 
 li' w t^'^^y^' ^^«° ^^^7 saw Wolfe, faithful 
 old Wolfe, their earliest friend and playfeUow 
 named by their father after the gallant hero of 
 Quebec. And they too, like Catharine, thought 
 
 
 fl 4 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0K9. 
 
 Ill 
 
 
 that their friends were not far distant, and joy- 
 fully they climbed the hills and shouted aloud, 
 and Wolfe was coaxed andcaressed, and besought 
 to follow them to point out the way they should 
 take : but all their entreaties were in vain ; worn 
 out with fatigue and long fasting, the poor old 
 doo' refused to quit the embers of the fire, before 
 which he stretched himself, and the boys now 
 noticed his gaunt frame and -/asted flesh— he 
 looked almost starved. The fact now became 
 evident that he was in a state of great exhaus- 
 tion. Catharine thought he eyed the spring 
 with wishful looks, and she soon supplied him 
 with water in the bark dish, to his great re- 
 
 Uef. . ^ , . 
 
 Wolfe had been out for severd days with his 
 master, who would repeat, in tones of sad earn- 
 estness, to the faithful creature, "Lost, lost, 
 lost 1" It was his custom to do so when the 
 cattle strayed, and Wolfe would travel in all 
 directions till he found them, nor ceased his 
 search till he discovered the objects he was 
 ordered to bring home. The last night of the 
 father's wanderings, when, sick and hopeless, 
 he came back to his melancholy home, as he sat 
 sleeplessly rocking himself to and fro, he in- 
 voluntarily exclaimed, wringing his liands, 
 "Lost, lost, lostl" Wolfe heard what to him 
 was ah imperative command; he rose, and stood 
 
112 
 
 fl 
 
 ran c'anaiiia.v I'Htrsora 
 
 at the d.nr, and whined ; mechanically his ma» 
 tor rose, hltcd the Ia.-.h, ami again e.eW ned^ 
 
 the faithful messenger forth into the dark fi.rest 
 path. Once on the trail he never left it, bu 
 wuh an jnstmct incomprehensible as it w^ 
 powerful, he continued to track the wood hn 
 gcnng long on spots where the wandeTrs 1 ad 
 eft any s.gns of their sojourn ; he had for so „e 
 ■me been baffled at the Beaver Meadow and 
 agam where they had crossed Cold ^1' b u 
 
 valley of the "Big Stone," and then with th! 
 «agac;ty of the bloodhound and the ^^ctou 
 
 obi ct o/r '^ ""'■■ "' '-'■ discove^d 
 seS """"""■ "'°"S'' °^'' baffled 
 
 What a state of excitement did the unex 
 pected arrival of old Wolfe create I How manJ 
 
 Srt "T P"' *" *« P°" beas "rhT ay 
 mtl^ Car-"^'r'''''''"«"°^"^'-ing 
 mistress Catharwe knew it was foolish h,,^ 
 
 as If he had been conversant with her own Ian 
 
 could but have mterp) .ted those exp. ,.„„ 
 
 Lut tT '''?"™' ""^^'"^ of your' oushy , 
 tail, as It flapped upon the grass, or waved from 
 
 «detos.de, those gentle lickin'gs of tie haZ 
 
 ^ 
 
 p-^; i^ g -I W waW T i llWQfl WI 
 
 ^BP 
 
 5K1 
 
THE CANADIAN TRUSOES. 
 
 118 
 
 
 ^nd mute sorrowful glances, aa though be would 
 Tave said, " D.M.r mistress, I know aP your trou- 
 blcs. I know all you say, but I cannot answer 
 voul" l^ere is something touching m the 
 silent sympathy of the dog, to which only the 
 hard-hearted and depraved can be qm e msen- 
 . ble I remember once hearmg of a felon who 
 had shown the greatest obstinacy and callous 
 indifference to the appeals of his relations, and 
 the clergyman that attended bim^^ P"«^"' 
 whose heart was softened by the sight of a httle 
 dog, that had been his companion in his days ot 
 comparative innocence, forcing its way through 
 the crowd, till it gained the foot of the gallows , 
 ita mute look of anguish and affection unlocked 
 the fount of human feeling, and the condemned 
 man wept-perhaps the first t^ars he bad shed 
 since childhood's happy days. . 
 
 The night closed in with a tempest of almost 
 tropical violence. The inky darkness of the 
 sky was relieved, at intervals, by sheets of lurid 
 flame, which revealed, by its intense brightness, 
 every object far off or near. The distant lake, 
 just seen amid the screen of leaves through the 
 gorgv, of the valley, gleamed like a sea of molten 
 sulphur ; the deep, narrow defile, shut in by the 
 steep and wooded hills, looked deeper, naora 
 wild and gloomy, when revealed by that vivid 
 
 glare of light. 
 10» 
 
114 
 
 TIJK CANADIAN CRUSOICS. 
 
 r„,!^ 7 "" ''"" """"'S 'he trees, the heavy 
 rounded masses of foliage remained unmoved 
 the verj aspen, that tremulous sensitive tree' 
 scarce ly stirred ; it seemed as if the very puta 
 of nature were at rest. The solemn murm^ 
 
 likened to the moanmg of the dying. The 
 eh^dren felt the loneliness of the sp^ot. ' Seated 
 at he entrance of their sylvan hut, in front of 
 which their evenmg fire burned brightly, they 
 looked out upon the storm in silefee and in 
 awe. Screened by the sheltering shrutethl" 
 
 IZr: '''"■ ""^y '''' compLtive; safe 
 from the dangers of the storm, which now bum 
 m terrific violence above the Galley. Cbud an 
 
 Wd 1 ''""'' r "^ "'^ ^""-"^ of'ihe hms p- 
 IZk T"'^' ^"""^ ^^'t^-^d trunks and 
 brutle branches filled the air, and shrieked and 
 groaned m that wild war of elements 
 Between the pauses of the tempest the lone 
 
 distant cedar swamp at the edge of the lake 
 might be heard from time to time-a s™„^' 
 that always thrilled their hearts ^h fear "^J 
 the mighty thunder-peal that burst above thdr 
 heads they listened with awe and wonder I 
 •eemed, indeed, to them as if it were the voice 
 of Him who "sendeth out his voice, yea and 
 that a mighty voice." And thev b^J'.' !h 
 
THE CANADIAN' CKU30ES. 
 
 115 
 
 adored bis majesty; but they sh ank with cur- 
 died blood from the cry of the /e?on wolf. 
 
 And now the storm was at its chmax, and 
 the hail and rain came down in a whitemng 
 flood upon that ocean of forest leaves ; the old 
 aver branches were lifted up and down, and the 
 ftout trunks rent, for they would not bow down 
 before the furv of the whirlwind, and were scat- 
 tered all abroad like chaff before the wmd 
 
 The children thought not of danger for them- 
 selves, but they feared for the safety of their 
 fathers, whom they believed to be not far off 
 from them. And often 'mid the raging of the 
 elements they fancied they could distinguish 
 familiar voices calling upon their names it 
 our father had not been near, Wolfe would not 
 
 have come hither." • ■. j • 
 
 "Ah if our father should have perished m 
 this fearful storm," said Catharine, weepmg, 
 "or have been starved to death while seeking 
 for us!" and Catharine covered her face and 
 wept more bitterly. 
 
 But Louis would not listen to such melan- 
 choly forebodings. Their fathers were both 
 brave, hardy men, accustomed to every sort ot 
 danger and privation; they were able to take 
 care of themselves. Yes, he was sure they were 
 not far off; it was this unlucky storm coming 
 -^ +v,of u^A nrfivftnted them from meeting. 
 
116 
 
 Ml 
 
 'THE CASAinAX CRUSOES. 
 
 i'3 master, and then-^hyi;, r , '^ ^"^ 
 
 dear father will be with you^ Th. '^ ■!?{ "^ 
 
 token good heed to the tfal. J -^ 7'" '"'™ 
 
 «ee our dear mothe^ anS *' ''"'" ^"'^'^ 
 
 The storm lasted ti 1 p^tt-ff ^°'"--" 
 
 gradually subsided anUL ="'''' '''^"' '* 
 
 were glad to see aJ , ^ P°°'' ^nderers 
 
 f e stL pirnroScr r "^' -'» 
 
 but thevwere r.^,. j '''°'^™ "asses ; 
 
 and their gaS^e^n^;:; 'r *f ""'«hut, 
 Howerer, the bov, 1^ drenched with rain. 
 
 bark and bougtel' f -^"^ '"^ ^"^ ^-"e 
 
 ■ a few sparks fnttSl?'""' *^" -- 
 and this they glX tf ^ ^^ '"'^^'"'guished, 
 
 with which fhefdriedT "P '"'" " "'"^^ 
 warmed themsefv^'^Tle '^ "" °'°"''^' ^"-l 
 almost to chilliness .tT f "^ ""^ <=°°1 
 
 weather remaine^dt^setdtd TndT ^^ '"« 
 fas' with eJouds, while th. , t ""^ °'^''- 
 leaden hue, crestekli h IL ■'"'""'^ " 
 
 They soon set to work tot T'""'^"^^^- 
 and found, close to Zhead .f ',r°"^- ''•"• 
 «jeat pine uprooted, affording the 'h """'' " 
 of bark, which proved vl^^P""''^ 
 
 '■matching the sides'Xh'Zrr,'"^'" 
 
 
 ^lli' 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 117 
 
 a gloriou3 
 ul one too, 
 e will find 
 re say my 
 will havo 
 shall sooQ 
 JJouise." 
 t, when it 
 vandurers 
 1 off, and 
 1 masses ; 
 tate, the 
 ittle hut, 
 ith rain, 
 ith some 
 5re were 
 ?uished, 
 i blaze, 
 es, and 
 w cool 
 ijs the 
 i^ over- 
 nted a 
 ves. 
 3r hut, 
 nne, a 
 pieces 
 >Ie in 
 
 i 
 
 
 ployed themselves in this work, while Catharine 
 cooked the fish they had caught the night 
 before, with a share of which old Wolfe seemed 
 to be mightily well pleased. After they had 
 
 breakfasted, they all went up to^^^^/^^^^ 
 table-land above the ravine, with Wolfe, to look 
 round in hope of getting sight of tbeir Jriends 
 from Cold Springs, but though they kept an 
 anxious look-out in every direction, they re- 
 turned, towards evening, tired and hopeless. 
 Hector had killed a red squirrel, and a par- 
 tridge which Wolfe "treed,"-that IS stood 
 barking at the foot of the tree in which it had 
 perched,-and the supply of meat was a season 
 able change. They also noticed, and marked 
 with the axe, several trees where there were 
 bees, intending to come in the cold weather 
 and cut them down. Louis's father was a great 
 and successful bee-hunter; and Louis rather 
 prided himself on having learned something ot 
 his father's skill in that line. Here, where 
 flowers were so abundant and water plentiful, 
 the wild bees seemed to be abundant also ; 
 besides, the open space between the trees, ad- 
 • mitting the warm sunbeam freely, was favour 
 able both for the bees and the flowers on which 
 they fed, and Louis talked joyfully of the fine 
 stores of honey they should collect in ^e fall. 
 — , •■ T-x \u^■^^ TPor.f.linn a small J^r'jnCu 
 
118 
 
 THE CAXADIAN CRUSOES 
 
 /;Tft 
 
 spaE.eI of his father's, to find out the treea 
 where the bees hived, ard also the nesJo the 
 ground bees, and she would bark at the f^o 
 of the tree or scratch with her feet on the 
 ground, as the other dogs barked at the squirrels 
 or the woodchaoks; but Fanchon was far away 
 and Wolfe was old, and would learn no ntw 
 tncks soLou,s knew he had nothing but h^ 
 own observation and the axe to depfnd upon 
 for procuring honey. ^ 
 
 The boys had been unsuccessful for some 
 days past m fishing; neither perch nor sunflsh 
 mk roach nor mud-pouts,* were to be caught 
 However, they found water-mussels by gronint 
 n the sand, and crayfish among the gfave a° 
 he edge of the water only; the last'pL Ld 
 their finger, very spitefully. The mussels were 
 not very palatable, for want of salt; but hungry 
 folk, must not be dainty, and Louis declaS 
 them very good when well roasted, covered up 
 with hot embers. "The fishhawks," said he 
 set us a good example, for they eat them, and 
 60 do the eagles and herons. I watched one the 
 other day with a mussel la hi. bill; he flew to 
 a h.gh tree, let his prey fall, and immedilTe ly 
 toed down to secure it; but I drove him off 
 «nd, to my great amusement, perceived the wis? 
 ^I «.«e 8.1. „e tadigoaou, to a, f„.t „,^„ ,„ 
 
 ■iimwi i ,!! LMLMWI il! 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 119 
 
 the treea 
 ests of the 
 t the foot 
 3t on the 
 s squirrels 
 far away, 
 n no new 
 ? but his 
 end upon 
 
 for some 
 r sunfish, 
 i caught. 
 
 groping 
 gravel at 
 
 pinched 
 >els were 
 
 hungry 
 declared 
 ered up 
 said he, 
 im, and 
 one the 
 flew to 
 diateiy 
 lim off, 
 be wis? 
 
 aters tf 
 
 fellow had just let it fall on a stone, which had 
 sjracked the shell for him just in the right place. 
 I often see shells lying at the foot of trees, far 
 up the hills, where these birds must have left 
 them. There is one large thick-shelled mussel, 
 that I have found several times with a round 
 hole drilled through the shell, just as if it had 
 been done with a small auger, doubtless the work 
 of some bird with a strong beak." 
 
 "Do you remember," said Catharine, "the 
 fine pink mussel-shell that Hec picked up ir 
 the little corn-field last year ? it had a hole i. 
 one of the shells too,* and when my uncle sav 
 it, he said it must have been dropped by some 
 large bird, a fishhawk possibly, or a heron, and 
 brought from the great lake, as it had been taken 
 out of some deep water, the mussels in our creeka 
 being quite thin-shelled and white." 
 
 " Do you remember what a quantity of large 
 fish bones we found in the eagle's nest on the 
 top of our hill, Louis ?" said Hector. 
 
 " I do ; those fish must have been larger than 
 our perch and sunfish ; they were brought from 
 this very lake, I dare say." 
 
 * This ingenious mode of oraclring the shells of mnssels ia 
 common to many birds. The crow ((hrvug corone) has been 
 long known by American naturalists to break the thick shells 
 of the river mussels, by letting them fall from a height on to 
 rooks dnd stouett. 
 
120 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 *' If we had a good canoe now, or a boat, and 
 a strong hook and line, we might become great 
 fishermen." 
 
 " Louis," said Catharine, " is always thinking 
 about canoes, and boats, and skiffs ; he ought to 
 have been a sailor." 
 
 Louis was confident that if they had a canoe 
 he could soon learn to manage her ; he was an 
 excellent sailor already in theory. Louis never 
 saw difficulties ; he was always hopeful, and had 
 a very good opinion of his own cleverness ; he 
 was quicker in most things, his ideas flowed 
 faster than Hector's, but Hector was more pru- 
 dent, and possessed one valuable quality— steady 
 perseverance;' he was slow in adopting an opin- 
 ion, but when once convinced, he pushed on 
 steadily till he mastered the subject or overcame 
 the obstacle. 
 
 "Catharine," said Louis, one day, "the 
 huckleberries are now very plentiful, and I think 
 it would be a wise thing to gather a good store 
 of them, and dry them for the winter. See, ma 
 ch^re, wherever we turn our eyes, or place our 
 feet, they are to be found; the hill sides are 
 purple with them. We may, for aught we know, 
 be obliged to pass the rest of our lives here ; it 
 will be well to prepare for the winter when no 
 berries are to be found." 
 
 itTj. :ii U- _.^11 w^Avt ni>Mi Vllif TWA rmiiaf. nnf 
 
 -"XL W'iii UC WC11| lliVli OLLUtf tJ\t,V TTVf «*»««•»«• •«--■•" 
 
 i ' 
 
 '^w^^'^^JBi 
 
THE CANADIAN ORUSOES. 
 
 121 
 
 r a boat, and 
 Decome great 
 
 ays thinking 
 he ought to 
 
 had a canoe 
 ; he was an 
 Louis never 
 eful, and had 
 everness; he 
 ideas flowed 
 as more pru- 
 ility — steady 
 ting an opin- 
 3 pushed on 
 or overcame 
 
 day, " the 
 1, and I think 
 a good store 
 er. See, ma 
 or place our 
 bill sides are 
 ^ht we know, 
 ives here ; it 
 iter when no 
 
 
 dry them in the sun ; for let me tell you, Mr. 
 Louis, that they will be quite tasteless — mere 
 dry husks." 
 
 "Why so, ma belle?" 
 
 " I do not know the reason, but I only know 
 the fact, for when our mothers dried the currants 
 and raspberries in the sun, such was the case, 
 but when they dried them on the oven floor, or 
 on the hearth, they were quite nice." 
 
 " Well, Cath., I think I know of a flat, thin 
 stone that will make a good hearthstone, and 
 we can get sheets of birch bark and sew into 
 flat bags, to keep the dried fruit in." 
 
 They now turned all their attention to drying 
 huckleberries (or whortleberries.)* Catharine 
 and Louis (who fancied nothing could be con- 
 trived without his help) attended to the pre- 
 paring and making of the bags of birch bark ; 
 but Hector was soon tired of girl's work, as he 
 termed it, and, after gathering some berries, 
 would wander away over the hills in search of 
 game, and to explore the neighbouring hills and 
 valleys, and sometimes it was sunset before he 
 
 * From tha abundance of this frnit, the Indians have given 
 the name of Whortleberry Plain to the lands on the south shore. 
 During the month of July and the early part of August, large 
 parties come to the Rice Lake Plains to gather huckleberries, 
 which they preserve by drying, for winter use. These berries 
 make a delicious taci or pudding, mixed with bilberries and 
 
 rou-Ourfauts, rs'>^ulfiuy titud sugar. 
 
 11 
 
il 
 
 122 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 made his appearance. Hector had made an 
 excellent strong bow, like the Indian bow, out 
 of a tough piece of hickory wood, which he 
 found in one of his rambles, and he made arrows 
 with wood that he seasoned in the smoke, 
 sharpening the heads with great care with hia 
 knife, and hardening them by exposure to strong 
 heat, at a certain distance from the fire. The 
 entraDs of the woodchucks, stretched, and scraped 
 and dried, and rendered pliable by rubbing and 
 drawing through the hands, answered for a bow- 
 string ; but afterwards, when they got the sinewa 
 and hide of the deer, they used them, properly 
 dressed for the purpose. 
 
 Hector also made a cross-bow, which he used 
 with great effect, being a true and steady 
 marksman. Louis and he would often amuse 
 themselves with shooting at a mark, which they 
 would chip on the bark of a tree ; even Catha- 
 rine was a tolerable archeress with the long 
 bow, and the hut was now seldom without gam6 
 of one kind or other. Hector seldom returned 
 from his rambles without partridges, quails, or 
 young pigeons, which are plentiful at this season 
 of the year; many of the old ones that pase 
 over in their migratory flight in the spring, stay 
 tc breed, or return thither for acorns and 
 berries that are to be found in great abundanca 
 Squirrels too are very plentifuif at this season. 
 
 ■i 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 123 
 
 1 made an 
 m bow, out 
 , which he 
 lade arrows 
 the smoke, 
 ire with hia 
 ire to strong 
 efire. The 
 and scraped 
 •ubbing and 
 id for a bow- 
 )t the sinewa 
 !m, properly 
 
 aich he used 
 and steady 
 often amuse 
 :, which they 
 even Catha- 
 th the long 
 ;rithout gam^ 
 om returned 
 es, quails, or 
 at this season 
 es that paaa 
 B spring, stay 
 acorns and 
 it abundanca 
 : this season. 
 
 Hector and Louis remarked that the red and 
 black squirrels never were to be found very 
 near each other. It is a common belief, tha\ 
 the red squirrels make common cause with the 
 grey and beat the larger enemy off the ground. 
 The black squirrel, for a succession of years, 
 was very rarely to be met with on the plains, 
 while there were plenty of the red and grey in 
 the " oak openings."* Deer, at the time our 
 young Crusoes were living on the Eice Lake 
 Plains, were plentiful, and, of course, so were 
 those beasts that prey upon them, — wolves, 
 bears, and wolverines, besides the Canadian 
 lynx, or catamount, as it is here commonly 
 called, a species of wild-cat or panther. These 
 wild animals are now no longer to be seen ; it 
 is a rare thing to hear of bears or wolves, and 
 the wolverine and lynx are known only as 
 matters of history in this part of the country ; 
 these animals disappear as civilization advances, 
 while some others increase and follow man, 
 especially many species of birds, which seem to 
 pick up the crumbs that fall from the rich man's 
 board, and multiply about his dwelling ; some 
 adopt new habits and modes of building and 
 
 * Within the last three years, however, the black squirrels 
 have been very numerous, and the red are less frequently to b« 
 eeen. The flesh of the black squirrel is tender, whit«, and del^ 
 oite, like that of a joung rabbit. 
 
«dr 
 
 124 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 feeding, according to the alteration and im« 
 proveraent in their circumstances. 
 
 While our young people seldom wanted for 
 meat, they felt the privation of the bread to 
 which they had been accustomed very sensibly. 
 One day, while Hector and Louis were busily 
 engaged with their assistant, Wolfe, in unearth- 
 ing a woodchuck, that had taken refuge in his 
 burrow, on one of the gravelly hills above the 
 lake, Catharine amused herself by looking for 
 flowers. She had filled her lap with ripe May- 
 apples,* but finding them cumbersome in climb- 
 ing the steep wooded hills, she deposited them 
 at the foot of a tree near the boys, and pursued 
 her search ; and it was not long before she per- 
 ceived some pretty grassy-looking p-ants, with 
 heads of bright lilac flowers, and on plucking 
 some pulled up the root also. The root was 
 
 * PodophylUm j}eltatum,—U&j-&Y>f\e, or Mandrake. The 
 fruit of the May-apple, in rich, moist soil, will attain to the size 
 of the mngnum bonum, or egg-plum which it resembles in 
 colour and shape. It makes a delicious preserve, if seasoned 
 with cloves or ginger; when eaten uncooked, the outer rind, 
 which is thick and fleshy, and has a rank taste, should bo 
 thrown aside; the fine acid pulp in which the seeds are im- 
 bedded alone should bo eaten. The root of the Podophyllum is 
 used as a cathartic by the Inc ms. The root of this plnnt is 
 reticulated, and when a large oody of them are uncovered, 
 . they present a singular appearance, interlacing each other m 
 largo meshes, like an extensive network ; these roots are white, 
 as thick as a man's little finger, and fragrant, and spread hon- 
 jontally iJong the surface. The blossom is like a smaJl white r«J** 
 
 1 
 
THE CANADIAN C HUSOES. 
 
 125 
 
 and im- 
 
 anted for 
 bread to 
 ' sensibly, 
 sre busily 
 \ unearth- 
 iige in Ilia 
 above the 
 )oking for 
 ripe May- 
 e in climb- 
 sited them 
 id pursued 
 re she per- 
 ".ants, with 
 1 plucking 
 s root waa 
 
 indrako. The 
 tain to the size 
 
 resembles in 
 re, if oeasonod 
 he outer rind, 
 jte, should be 
 
 seeds are im- 
 *odophyllum ia 
 )f this plant is 
 ire uncovered, 
 
 each other in 
 oots are white, 
 id spread hori- 
 maJl white TOi* 
 
 ■ 
 
 about tt e size and shape of a large crocus, and, 
 on biting it, she found it far from disagreeable, 
 Bwcet, and slightly astringent ; it seemed to be 
 a favourite root with the woodchucks, for she 
 noticed that it grew about their burrows on 
 dry, gravelly soil, and many of the stems were 
 bitten, and the roots eaten — a warrant in full of 
 wholesomeness. Therefore, carryiniT home a 
 parcel of the largest of the roots, si roasted 
 t!:em in the embers, and they proved almost as 
 good as chestnuts, and mora satisfying than the 
 acorns of the white oak, which they had often 
 roastec^ in the fire, when they were out working 
 on the fallow, at the log heaps. Hector and 
 Louis ate h~artily of the roots, and commended 
 Catharine for the discovery. Not many days 
 afterwards, Louis accidentally found a much 
 larger and more valuable root, near the lake 
 shore. He saw a fine climbing shrub, with 
 close bunches of dark reddish-purple pea-shaped 
 flowers, which scented the air with a delicious 
 perfume. The plant climbed to a great height 
 over the young trees, with a profusion of dark 
 green leaves and tendrils. Pleased with the 
 bowery appearance of the plant, he tried to puV 
 one up, that he might show it to his cousin, 
 when the root displayed a number of large 
 tubers, as big as good-sized potatoes, regular 
 oval-shaoed : the inside was auite white, tasting 
 
126 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 Bomewbat like a potato, only pleasanter, when 
 in its raw state, than an uncooked potato. Louis 
 jjath^red his pockets full, and hastened home 
 with his prize, and, on being roasted, these new 
 roots were decided to be little inferior to pota- 
 toes ; at all events, they were a valuable addition 
 to their slender stores, and they procured as 
 many as they could find, carefully storing them 
 in a hole, which they dug for that purpose in a 
 corner of their hut * Hector suggested that 
 these roots would be far better late in the fall, 
 or early in the spring, than during the time 
 that the plant was in bloom, for he knew from 
 observation and experience that at the flowering 
 season the greater part of the nourishment 
 derived from the soil goes to perfect the flower 
 and the seeds. Upon scraping the cut tuber, 
 there was a white floury powder produced, 
 resembling the starchy substance of the po- 
 tato. 
 
 "This flour," said Catharine, "would make 
 
 good porridge with milk." 
 
 "Excellent, no doubt, my wise little cook 
 and housekeeper," said Louis, laughing; "but 
 
 ♦ This plant appears to me to be a species of the PsoralM 
 «sculenta, or Indian breacl-root, which it resembles in description, 
 excepting that the root of the above is tuberous, oval, and con- 
 nected by long filaments. The largest tubers are fiirthest from 
 the stem of the plant. 
 
THE CANADIAN ORUSOES. 
 
 127 
 
 ma belle cousine, where is the milk, and where 
 is the porridge-pot to come from ?" 
 
 " Indoec'," siiid Catharine, " I fear, Louis, we 
 must wait long for both." 
 
 One fine day, Louis returned home from the 
 lake shore in great haste, for the bows and 
 arrows, with the interesting news that a herd of 
 five deer were in the water, and making for 
 Long Island. 
 
 "But, Louis, they will be gone out of sight 
 and beyond the reach of the arrows," said 
 Catharine, as she handed him down the bows 
 and a sheaf of arrows, which she quickly slung 
 round his shoulders by the belt of skin, which 
 the young hunter had made for himself. 
 
 " No fear, ma ch^re ; they will stop to feed 
 on the beds of rice and lilies. We must have 
 Wolfe. Here, Wolfe, Wolfe, Wolfe,— here, 
 boy, herel" 
 
 Catharine caught a portion of the excitement 
 that danced in the bright eyes of her cousin, 
 and declaring that she too would go and witness 
 the hunt, ran down the ravine by his side, while 
 Wolfe, who evidently understood that they had 
 . some sport in view, trotted along by his mis- 
 tress, wagging his great bushy tail, and looking 
 in, high good humour. 
 
 Hector was impatiently waiting the^ arrival oi 
 the bows and Wolfe. The herd of deer, con 
 
..,?' 
 
 128 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 Bisting of a noble buck, two full-grown females, 
 and two young half-grown males, were quietly- 
 feeding among the beds of rice and rushes, not 
 more than jafteen or twenty yards from the 
 shore, apparently quite unconcerned at the pres- 
 ence of Hector, who stood on a fallen trunk 
 eagerly eyeing their motions ; but the hurried 
 steps of Louis and Catharine, with the deep 
 sonorous baying of Wolfe, soon roused the timid 
 creatures to a sense of danger, and the stag, 
 raising his head and making, as the children 
 thought, a signal for retreat, now struck boldly 
 out for the nearest point of Long Island. 
 
 " We shall lose them," cried Louis, despair- 
 ingly, eyeing the long, bright track that cut 
 the silvery waters, as the deer swam gallantly 
 
 out. 
 
 " Hist, hist, Louis," said Hector, " all depends 
 upon Wolfe. Turn them, Wolfe; hey, hey, 
 seek them, boy 1" 
 
 Wolfe dashed bravely into the lake. 
 
 " Head them 1 head them 1" shouted Hector. 
 
 Wolfe knew what was meant; with the 
 sagacity of a long-trained hunter, he made a 
 desperate effort to gain the advantage by a cir- 
 cuitous route. Twice the stag turned irresolute, 
 as if to face his foe, and Wolfe, taki/ig the time, 
 swam ahead, and then the race began. As soon 
 
 as the DOyS saw liUO acru uau uLiIiiv^i, «iA-, 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 129 
 
 Wolfe was between them and the island, thej 
 separated, Louis making good his ambush to 
 the right among the cedars, and Hector at the 
 spring to the west, while Catharine was station- 
 ed at the solitary pine-tree, at the point which 
 commanded the entrance of the ravine. 
 
 " Now, Cathy," said her brother, " whf.n you 
 see the herd making for the ravine, sl;.out and 
 clap your hands, and they will turn either to 
 the right or to the left. Do not let Ihem land, 
 or we shall lose them. We must ifi^st to Wolfe 
 for their not escaping to the islajid. Wolfe w 
 well trained — ^he knows what he ia about." 
 
 Catharine proved a dutiful /Ay, she did .03 
 she was bid. She waited till the deer, were with- 
 in a few yards of the shore, then she shouted 
 and clapped her hands. Frightened at the noise 
 and clamour, the terrified creatures coasted 
 along for some way, till within a little distance 
 of the thicket where Hactor lay concealed, the 
 very spot from which they had emerged sfhen 
 they first took to the water : to this place they 
 boldly steered. Louis, who had watched the di- 
 rection the herd had taken, with breathless 
 interest, now noiseleoyly hurried to Hector's as- 
 sistance, taking an advantageous post for aim, in 
 case Hector's arrow missed, or only slightly 
 wounded one of the deer. 
 
 Hector- croucihed beneath thr- tr^es* waited 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 cautiously till one of the does was withm reach 
 of his arrow, and so good and true was his aim, 
 that it hit the animal in the throat a little above 
 the chest. The stag now turned again, but 
 Wolfe was behind, and pressed him forward, 
 and again the noble animal strained every nerve 
 for the shore. Louis now shot his arrow, but it 
 swerved from the mark; he was too eager; it 
 glanced harmlessly along the water; but the 
 cool, unimpassioned hand of Hector sent an- 
 other arrow between the eyes of the doe, stun- 
 ning her with its force, and then, another from 
 Louis laid her on her side, dying, and staining 
 the water with her blood. 
 
 The herd, abandoning their dying companion, 
 dashed frantically to the shore, and the young 
 hunters, elated by their success, suffered them 
 to make good their landing without further 
 molestation. Wolfe, at a signal from his maa- 
 ter, ran in the quarry, and Louis declared ex- 
 ultingly, that as his last arrow had given the 
 cowp de grace, he was entitled to the honour of 
 cutting the throat of the doe ; but this the stern 
 Hiohlander protested against, and Louis, with 
 a careless laugh, yielded the point, contenting 
 himself with saying, " Ah, well, I will get the 
 first steak of the venison when it is roasted, 
 and that is far more to my taste." Moreover, 
 be privately recoumcu v^ -oamaiaiiv/ -»•- — g- — 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 181 
 
 ant share he had had in the exploit, giving her, 
 at the same time, full credit for the worthy ser- 
 vice she had performed, in withstanding the 
 landing of the herd. Wolfe, too, came in for a 
 large share of the honour and glory of the 
 chase. 
 
 The boys were soon hard at work, skinning 
 the animal, and cutting it up. This was the 
 most valuable acquisition they had yet effected, 
 for many uses were to be made of the deer, be- 
 sides eating the flesh. It was a store of wealth 
 in their eyes. 
 
 During the many years that their fathers had 
 sojourned in the country, there had been occa- 
 sional intercourse with the fur traders and trap- 
 pers, and, sometimes, with friendly disposed 
 Indians, who had called at the lodges of their 
 white brothers for food and tobacco. 
 
 From all these men, rude as they were, some 
 practical knowledge had been acquired, and 
 their visits, though few and far between, had 
 left good fruit behind them ; something to think 
 about and talk about, and turn to future ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 The boys had learned from the Indians how 
 precious were the tough sinews of the deer for 
 sewing. They knew how to prepare the skins 
 of the deer for mosassins, which they could cut 
 out and make as neatly as the squaws tliem* 
 
:;IU 
 
 i ; 
 
 !1» 
 
 I 
 
 ii 
 
 *1 
 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 selves. They could fashion arrow-heads, and 
 knew how best to season the wood for making 
 both the long and cross-bow ; they had seen the 
 fish-hooks these people manufactured from bone 
 and hard wood ; they knew that strips of fresh- 
 cut skins would make bow-strings, or the entrails 
 of animals dried and rendered pliable. They 
 had watched the squaws making baskets of the 
 inner bark of the oak, elm, and basswood, and 
 mats of the inner bark of the cedar, with many 
 other ingenious works that they now found 
 would prove useful to them, after a little prac- 
 tice had perfected their inexperienced attempts. 
 They also knew how to dry venison as the In- 
 dians and trappers prepare it, by cutting the 
 thick fleshy portions of the meat into strips, 
 from four to six inches in breadth, and two or 
 more in thickness. These strips they strung 
 upon poles supported on forked sticks, and ex- 
 posed them to the drying action of the sun and 
 wind. Fish they split open, and removed the 
 back and head bones, and smoked them slightly, 
 or dried them in the sun. 
 
 Their success in killing the doe greatly raised 
 their spirits ; in their joy they embraced each 
 other, and bestowed the most affectionate ca- 
 resses on "Wolfe for his good conduct. 
 
 " But for this dear, wise old fellow, we should 
 have had no venaion for dinner to-davj" said 
 
THE CANADIAN CEUS0E3. 
 
 133 
 
 ^ 
 
 Louis ; " and so, Wolfe, you shall have a choice 
 piece for your own share." 
 
 Every part of the deer seemed valuable in 
 the eyes of the young hunters ; the skin they 
 carefully stretched out upon sticks to dry grad- 
 ually, and the entrails they also preserved for 
 bow-strings. The sinews of the legs and back 
 they drew out, and laid carefully aside for fu- 
 ture use. 
 
 " We shall be glad enough of these strings 
 by and by," said careful Hector; " for the sum- 
 mer will soon be at an end, and then we must 
 turn our attention to making ourselves winter 
 clothes and mocassins." 
 
 "Yes, Hec, and a good warm shanty; these 
 huts of bark and boughs will not do when once 
 the cold weather sets in." 
 
 " A shanty would soon be put up," said Hec- 
 tor ; " for even Kate, wee bit lassie as she is, could 
 give us some help in trimming up the logs." 
 
 "That I could, indeed," replied Catharine; 
 "for you may remember, Hec, that the last 
 journey my father made to the Bay,* with the 
 pack of furs, that you and I called a Bee,^ to put 
 
 * Bay of Quints, 
 
 t A Bee is a practical instance of duty to a neighbour. Wo 
 fear it is peculiar to Canada, although deserving of imitation 
 in all Christian colonies. When any woric which requires 
 many hands is in the course of performance, as the building 
 of log-houses, barns, or shantiu. all tho no'irhbcurs sse sani- 
 12 ' 
 
 ( 
 
184 
 
 THE CANADIAN CliUSOES. 
 
 up a abed for the new cow that he was to drive 
 back with him, and I am sure Mathilde and I did 
 as much good as you and Louis. You know you 
 said you could not have got on nearly so well 
 without our help." 
 
 " Yes, and you cried because you got a fall 
 off the shed when it was only four logs high." 
 
 " It was not for the fall that I cried," said 
 Catharine, resentfully, "but because cousin 
 Louis and you laughed at me, and said, * Cats, 
 you know, have nine lives, and seldom are hurt, 
 because they light on their feet,' and I tl ^ught 
 it was very cruel to laugh at me when I was in 
 pain. Besides, you called me ' puss,' and * poor 
 pussie' all the rest of the jBee," 
 
 " I am sure, ma belle, I am very sorry if X 
 was rude to you," said Louis, trying to look 
 penitent for the offence. " For my part, I had 
 forgotten all about ths fall ; I only know that 
 we passed a very merry day. Dear aunt made 
 us a fine johnny-cake for tea, with lots of maple 
 molasses ; and the shed was a capital shed, and 
 the cow must have thought us fine builders, to 
 have made such a comfortable shelter for her, 
 with no better help." 
 
 *' After all," said Hector, thoughtfully, " chil- 
 
 moned, and give their best aasistanoe in the conetrucUon. Of 
 course the assisted party ia liable to be called upoa by the 
 ooaunuoity in turn, to repay in kind the help he has rtoelTed. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 185 
 
 dren can do a great many things if they only 
 resolutely set to work, and use the wits and the 
 strength that God has given them to work with. 
 A few weeks ago, and we should have thought 
 it utterly impossible to have supported ourselves 
 in a lonely wilderness like this by our own ex- 
 ertions in fishing and hunting." 
 
 "If we had been lost in the forest, we must 
 have died with hunger," said Catharine ; "but 
 let us be thankful to the good God who led us 
 hither, and gave us health and strength to help 
 oureelvea." 
 
 t I 
 
ISA 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 # 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 ^ iji 
 
 " Aye from the sultry heat, 
 
 We to our cave retreat, 
 O'ercanopied by huge roots, intertwined, 
 Of wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age. 
 Bound them their mantle groen the climbers twine. 
 
 Beneath whose mantle — pale, 
 
 Fann'd by the breathing gale. 
 We shield us from the fervid mid-day rage, 
 Thither, while the murmuring throng 
 Of wild bees hum their drows' song." — CoLERnxta 
 
 " T OUIS, what are you cutting out oJ chat 
 ■'^ bit of wood?" said Cathariae, the vrery 
 next day after the first ideas of the shanty had 
 been started. 
 
 " Hollowing out a canoe." 
 
 " Out of that piece of stick?" said Catharine, 
 laughing. " How many passengers is it to ac- 
 commodate, my dear?" 
 
 " Don't tease, ma belle. I am only making 
 a model. My canoe will be made out of a big 
 pine log, and large enough to hold three." 
 
 " Is it to be like the big sap-trough in the su 
 gar-bush at home ?" Louis nodded assent. 
 
 " I long to go over to the island ; I see lots of 
 of ducks popping in and out of the little bays 
 beneath the cedars, and there are plenty of par* 
 
THE CANAPIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 137 
 
 Iridges, I am sure, and squirrels, — it is the very 
 place for tliem." 
 
 "And shall we have a sail as well as oars?" 
 
 " Yes ; set up your apron for a sail." 
 
 Catharine cast a rueful look upon the tattered 
 remnant of the apron. 
 
 "•It is worth nothing now," she said, sighing ; 
 " and what am I to do when rny gown is worn 
 out ? It is a good thing it is so strong ; if it had 
 been cotton, now, it would have been torn to 
 bits among the bushes." 
 
 " We must make clothes of skins as soon as 
 we get enough," said Hector ; " Louis, I think 
 you can manufacture a bone needle; we can 
 pierce the holes with the strong thorns, or a little 
 round bone bodkin, that can be easily made." 
 
 " The first rainy day, we will see what we 
 can do," replied Louis ; " but I am full of my 
 canoe just now." 
 
 "Indeed, Louis, I believe you never think of 
 any thing else; but even if we had a canoe 
 to-mon-ow, I do not think that either you or I 
 could manage one," said cautious Hector. 
 
 "I could soon learn, as others have done 
 before me. I wonder who first taught the 
 Indians to make canoes, and venture out on the 
 lakes and streams ! Why should we be more 
 Btupid than these untaught heathens ? I have 
 listened so often to my father's stories and ad- 
 12* 
 
■MP 
 
 u 
 
 138 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0K9. 
 
 ventures when he was out lumbering on the St» 
 John's river, that I am as familiar with the idea 
 of a boat as if I had been born in one. Only 
 think now, ma belle," he said, turning to Catha- 
 rine ; "just think of the fish — the big ones we 
 could get if we had but a canoe to push out from 
 the shore beyond those rush-beds." 
 
 " It strikes me, Louis, that those rush-beds, as 
 you call them, must be the Indian rice that we 
 have seen the squaws make their soup of." 
 
 " Yes ; and you remember old Jacob used to 
 talk of a fine lake that he called Rice Lake, 
 somewhere to the northward of the Cold Springs, 
 where he said there was plenty of game of all 
 kinds, and a fine open place, where people could 
 see through the openings among the trees. He 
 said it was a great hunting-place for the Indians 
 in the fall of the year, and that they came there 
 to gather in the harvest of wild rice." 
 
 " I hope the Indians will not come here and 
 find us out," said Catharine, shuddering; "I 
 think I should be more frightened at the Indians 
 than at the wolves. Have we not heard fearful 
 tales of their cruelty ?" 
 
 " But we have never been harmed by them ; 
 they have always been civil enough when they 
 came to the Springs." 
 
 " They came, you know, for food, or shelter, 
 or something that they wanted from us; but 
 
THE CANApIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 189 
 
 It may be different when they find ua alone and 
 unprotected, encroaching upon their hunting- 
 grounds." 
 
 " The place is wide enough for us and them ; 
 we will try and make them our friends." 
 
 "The wolf and the lamb do not lie down in 
 the fold together," observed Hector. "The 
 Indian is treacherous. The wild man and the 
 civilized man do not live well together, their 
 habits and dispositions are so contrary the one 
 to the other. We are open, and they are cunning, 
 and they suspect our openness to be only a 
 greater degree of cunning than their own — they 
 do not understand us. They are taught to be 
 revengeful, and we are taught to forgive our 
 enemies. So you see that what is a virtue with 
 tJ .e savage, is a crime with the Christian. If the 
 Indian could be taught the word of God, be 
 might be kind and true, and gentle as well as 
 brave." 
 
 It was with conversations like this that our 
 poor wanderers wiled away their weariness. 
 The love of life, and the exertions necessary for 
 self-preservation, occupied so large a portion of 
 their thoughts and time, that they had hardly 
 leisure for repining. They mutually cheered and 
 animated each other to bear up against the sad 
 fate that had thus severed them from evsry kin- 
 dred tie, and shut them out from that honi** *'» 
 
 i|j 
 I 
 
 ;! 
 
140 
 
 THE CANALnAir CRUSOES. 
 
 which their young heiuvti trere bound by evpiy 
 endearing remembrance from inflincy upwards. 
 One briglit September morning, our young 
 people set off on an exploring cxi)editiorj, leav- 
 ing the faithful Wolfo to watch the wigwam, for 
 they well knew he was too honest to touch their 
 Btore of dried fish and venison himself, and too 
 trusty and fierce to suffer wolf or wild cat 
 near it. 
 
 They crossed several narrow, deep ravines, 
 and the low wooded flat* along the lake shore, 
 to the eastward of Pine-tree Poiat. Finding it 
 difficult to force their way through the thick 
 underwood that always impedes the progress of 
 the traveller on the low shores of the lake, they 
 followed the course of an ascending narrow 
 ridge, which formed a sort of natural causeway 
 between two parallel hollows, the top of this 
 ridge being, in many place?., not wider than a 
 cart or waggon could pass along. The sides 
 were most gracefully adorned with Qowering 
 shrubs, wild vines, creepers of various species, 
 wild cherries of several kinds, hawthorns, bil- 
 berry bushes, high-bush oranberrico, silver birch, 
 poplars, oaks, and pines ; while in the deep ra- 
 
 * Nowtho fertile farm of Joe Harris, a Tanker settler, whose 
 plonsaut meadows and Holds of grain form a pretty feature from 
 the lake. It is one of the oldest doarings on the shore, and 
 tpeaks weU for the persevering ind itry of the setUer and his 
 fiuoily. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 141 
 
 vines on either side grew trees of the largest 
 growth, the heads of which lay on a level with 
 their path. Wild cliffy banks, beset with huge 
 boulders of red and grey granite and water- worn 
 limestone, showed that it had once formed the 
 boundary of the lake, though now it was almost 
 a quarter of a mile in its rear. Springs of pure 
 water were in abundance, trickling down the 
 steep rugged sides of this wooded glen. The 
 children wandered onwards, delighted with the 
 wild picturesque path they had chosen, some- 
 times resting on a huge block of moss-covered 
 stone, or on the twisted roots of some ancient 
 grey old oak or pine, while they gazed with curi- 
 osity and interest on the lonely but lovely land- 
 scape before them. Across the lake, the dark 
 forest shut all else from tlicii iew, rising in 
 gradual far-off slopes, ti', it reached the utmost 
 boundary of sight. Much the children mar- 
 velled what country it might be that lay in the 
 dim, blue, hazy distance, — to them, indeed, a 
 lerra incognita — a land of mystery ; but neither 
 of her companions laughed when Catharine 
 gravely suggested the probability of this un- 
 known shore to the northward being her fa- 
 ther's beloved Highlands. Let not the youth 
 ful and more learned reader smile at the igno- 
 rance of the Canadian girl ; she knew nothing of 
 maps, and globes, and hemisDhena-. — her onl^ 
 
142 
 
 THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 
 r 
 
 tv 
 
 i^ 
 
 «^' 
 
 X 
 
 book of study had been the Holy Scriptures, her 
 only teacher a poor Highland soldier. 
 
 Following the elevated ground above this 
 deep valley, the travellers at last halted on the 
 extreme edge of a high and precipitous mound, 
 that formed an abrupt termination to the deep 
 glen. They found water not far from this spoi 
 fit for drinking, by following a deer-path a little 
 to the southward. And there, on the borders of 
 a little basin on a pleasant brae, where the bright 
 silver birch waved gracefully over its sides, they 
 decided upon building a winter-house. They 
 named the spot Mount Ararat: "For here," 
 said they, " we will build us an ark of refuge, 
 and wander no more." And Mount Ararat is 
 the name which the spot still bears. Here they 
 sat them down on a fallen tree, and ate a meal 
 of dried venison, and drank of the cold spring 
 that welled out from beneath the edge of the 
 bank. Hector felled a tree to mark the site of 
 their house near the birches, and they made a 
 regular blaze on the trees as they returned 
 home towards the wigwam, that they might not 
 miss the place. They found less difficulty in re- 
 tracing their path than they had formerly, as 
 there were some striking peculiarities to mark 
 it, and they had learned to be very minute in 
 the remarks they made as they travelled, so that 
 
 theV now n^ldrtm misoA/^ fVia ■gratr fk/^'! 
 
 way 
 
 ajf uoiUO 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 143 
 
 >y. A few days after this, they removed all 
 their household stores, viz., the axe, the tin-pot, 
 bows and arrows, baskets, and bags of dried 
 fruit, the dried venison and fish, and the deer- 
 akin ; nor did they forget the deer-scalp, which 
 they bore away as a trophy, to be fastened up 
 over the door of their new dwelling, for a me- 
 morial of their first hunt on the shores of the 
 Rice Lake. The skin was given to Catharine to 
 sleep on. 
 
 The boys were now busy from morning till 
 night chopping down trees for house-logs. It 
 was a work of time and labour, as the axe was 
 blunt, and the oaks hard to cut; but they 
 laboured on without grumbling, and Kate 
 watched the fall of each tree with lively joy. 
 They were no longer dull; there was something 
 to look forward to from day to day — they were 
 going to commence housekeeping in good earnest 
 and they should be warm and well lodged before 
 the bitter frosts of winter could come to chill 
 their blood. It was a joyful day when the log 
 walls of the little snanty were put up, and the 
 door hewed out. Windows they had none, so 
 they did not cut out the spaces for them ;* they 
 could do very well without, as hundreds of Irish 
 
 ♦ Many a shanty is i»rt up in Canada without windows, and 
 only an open space for a door, with a rude plank set up to doM 
 it ia at uiglts. 
 
 
144 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 And Highland emigrants have done before and 
 since. 
 
 A pile of stones rudely cemented together 
 with wet clay and ashes against the logs, and a 
 hole cut in the roof, formed the chimney and 
 hearth in this primitive dwelling. The chinks 
 were filled with wedge-shaped pieces of wood, 
 and plastered with clay : the trees, being chiefly 
 oaks and pines, afforded no moss. This defi- 
 ciency rather surprised the boys, for in the thick 
 forest and close cedar swamps, moss grows in 
 abundance on the north side of the trees, espe- 
 cially on the cedar, maple, beech, bass, and iron- 
 wood ; but there were few of these, excepting 
 a chance one or two in the little basin in front 
 of the house. The roof was next put on, which 
 consisted of split cedars; and when the little 
 dwelling was thus far habitable, they were all 
 very happy. "While the boys had been putting 
 on the roof, Catharine had collected the stones 
 for the chimney, and cleared the earthen floor 
 of the ohips and rubbish with a broom of cedar 
 boughs, bound together with a leathern thong. 
 She had swept it all clean, carefully removing 
 all unsightly objects, and strewing it over with 
 fresh cedar sprigs, which gave out a pleasant 
 odour, and formed a smooth and not unseemly 
 carpet for their little dwelling. How cheerful 
 
 yifiis hu,^ iJ,i.oii u.x^ uxo^x^iug UL/vxi, uixcii vwu u^AXbu j 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 145 
 
 espe- 
 
 It v.'as so pleasant to sit by. its glacdening light, 
 and chat away of all they had done and all that 
 they meant to do. Here was to he a set of split 
 ' cedar shelves, to hol^l their provisions and bas- 
 kets ; there a set of stout pegs were to be insert- 
 ed between the logs for hanging up strings of 
 dried meat, bags of birch-bark, or the skins of 
 the animals they were to shoot or trap. A table 
 was to be fixed on posts in the centre of the floor. 
 Louis was to carve wooden platters and dishes, 
 and some stools were to be made with hewn 
 blocks of w^c'i, dll something better could be 
 devised. ': 1-1- bedst'^ ads were rough poles of 
 iron-wood, Bupported by posts driven into the 
 ground, and partly upheld by the projection of 
 the logs at the angles of the wall. Nothing could 
 be more simple. The framework was of split 
 cedar ; and a safe bed was mad 3 by pine boughs 
 being first laid upon the frarie, and then thickly 
 coevred with dried grass, moss, and withered 
 leaves. Such were the lowly but healthy couches 
 on which these children of the forest slept. 
 
 A dwelling so rudely framed and scantily 
 furnished would be regarded with disdain by 
 the poorest English peasant. Yet many a 
 settler's family have I seen as roughly lodged, 
 while a better house was being prepared for 
 their reception; and many a gentleman's son 
 ■'""'' 'jmitted to Drivations as greafi 
 
 13 
 
 priv, 
 
U6 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRirSOES. 
 
 IHi 
 
 as thes' from the love of novelty and adventure, 
 or to embark in the tempting expectation of 
 realizing money in the lumbering trade, .vorking 
 hard, and sharing the rude log shanty and ruder 
 society of those reckless and hardy meL, the 
 Canadian lumberers. During the spring and 
 summer months, these men spread themselves 
 through the trackless forests, and along the 
 shores of nameless lakes and unknown streams, 
 to cut the pine or oak lumber, such being the 
 name they give to the felled stems of trees, 
 which are then hewn, and in the winter dragged 
 out upon the ice, where they are formed into 
 rafts, and floated down the waters till they 
 reach the great St, Lawrence, and are, after 
 innumerable difficulties and casualties, finally 
 shipped for England. I have likewise known 
 European gentlemen voluntarily leave the com- 
 forts of a civilized home, and associate them- 
 selves with the Indian trappers and hunters, 
 leading lives as wandering and vas wild as the 
 uncultivated children of the forest. 
 
 The nights and early mornings were already 
 growing sensibl}'^ more chilly. The dews at 
 this season fall heavily, and the mists fill the 
 valleys, till the sun has risen with sullioient heat 
 to draw up the vapours. It was a good thing 
 that the shanty was finished so soon, or the 
 
 J. _ J.1 J— — .^.. .1.. mmIm.!-*^ X««k*vA Iv^^^kVk V\1A/X_ 
 
 exposure vo tins uuiup an uiigui* uavc uc^ii j/iv- 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 W7 
 
 ductive of ague and fever. Every hour almost 
 they spent in making little additions to their 
 household comforts, but some time wc2 neces- 
 sarily passed in trying to obtain provisions. 
 One day Hector, who had been out from dawn 
 till moonrise, returned with the welcome news 
 that he had shot a young deer, and required the 
 assistance of his cousin to bring it up the steep 
 bank — (it was just at the entrance of the great 
 ravine)— below the precipitous clifi' near the 
 lake ; he had left old Wolfe to guard it in the 
 mean time. They had now plenty of fresh broiled 
 meat, and this store was very acceptable, as they 
 were obliged to be very careful of the dried 
 meat that they had. 
 
 This time Catharine adopted a new plan. 
 Instead of cutting the meat in strips, and drying 
 it, (or jerking it, as the lumberers term it,) she 
 roasted it before the fire, and hung it up, wrap- 
 ping it in thin sheets of birch bark. The juices, 
 instead of being dried up, were preserved, and 
 the meat was more palatable. Catharine found 
 great store of wild plums in a beautiful vallev, 
 not far from the shanty ; these she dried for the 
 winter store, eating sparingly of them in their 
 fresh state ; she also found plenty of wild black 
 currants, and high-bush cranberries, on the banks 
 of a charming creek of bright water that flowed 
 between a range of high pine hills, and finally 
 
 
148 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 emptied itself into the lake * There were great 
 quantities of water-cresses in this pretty brook ; 
 they grew in bright, round, cushion-like tufts at 
 the bottom of the water, and were tender and 
 wholesome. These formed an agreeable addi- 
 tion to their diet, which had hitherto been chiefly 
 confined to animal food, for they could not always 
 meet with a supply of the bread-roots, as they 
 grew chiafly in damp, swampy thickets on the 
 lake shore, which were sometimes very difficult 
 of access; however, they never missed any 
 opportunity of increasing their stores, and lay- 
 ing up for the winter such roots as they could 
 procure. 
 
 As the cool weather and frosty nights drew 
 on, the want of warm clothes and bed-covering 
 became more sensibly felt : those they had were 
 beginning to wear out. Catharine had managed 
 to wash her clothes at the lake several times, 
 and thus preserved them clean and wholesome ; 
 but she was often sorely puzzled how the want 
 of her dress was to be supplied as time wore on, 
 and many were the consultations she held with 
 the boys on the important subject. With the 
 aid of a needle she might be able to manufacture 
 
 * This little stream f >W8 through the green meadows of 
 " Glenlynden," watering the grounds of Mr. Alfred Hay ward, 
 whose picturesque cottage forms a most attractive object to tb« 
 
 w 
 
 6 of the travell* 
 
THE CANADIAN CEUSOES. 
 
 14^ 
 
 !' 
 
 the skins of the small animals into some sort of 
 jacket, and the doe-skin and deer-skin could bo 
 made into garments for the boys. Louis was 
 always supplying and rubbing the skins to make 
 them soft. They had taken off the hair by 
 sprinkling it with wood ashes, and rolling it up 
 with the hairy side inwards. Out of one of these 
 skins he made excellent mocassins, piercing the 
 holes with a sharpened bone bodkin, and pass- 
 ing the sinews of the deer through, as he had 
 Been his father do, by fixing a stout fish-bone to 
 the deer-sinew thread ; thus he had an excellent 
 substitute for a needle, and with the aid of the 
 old file he sharpened the point of the rusty nail, 
 so that he was enabled, with a little trouble, to 
 drill a hole in a bone needle, for his cousin Cath- 
 arine's use. After several attempts, he sucoeeded 
 in making some of tolerable fineness, hardening 
 them by exposure to a slow, steady degree of 
 heat, till she was able to work with them, and 
 even mend her clothes with tolerable expertness. 
 By degrees, Catharine contrived to cover the 
 whole outer surface of her homespun woollen 
 frock with squirrel and mink, musk-rat and 
 woodchuck skins. A curious piece of fur patch- 
 work of many hues and textures it presented 
 to the eye, — a coat of many colours, it is true : 
 but it kept the wearer warm, and Catharine was 
 not a little proud of her ingenuity and industry 
 13* 
 
 i 
 
150 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 every new patch that was added was a source of 
 fresh satisfaction, and the mocassins, that Louis 
 fitted so nicely to her feet, were great comforts. 
 A fine skin that Hector brought triumphantly in 
 one day, the spoil from a fox that had been 
 caught in one of his dead-falls, was in due time 
 converted into a dashing cap, .he brush remain- 
 ing as an ornament to hang down on one shoulder. 
 Catharine might have passed for a small Diana, 
 when she went out with her fur dress and bow 
 and arrows to hunt with Hecior and Bonis. 
 
 Whenever game of any kind was killed, it 
 was carefully skinned and stretched upon bent 
 sticks, being first turned, so ^ to present the 
 inner part to the drying action of the air. The 
 young hunters were most expert in this work, 
 having oeen accustomed for many years to assist 
 their fathers in preparing the furs which they 
 disposed of to the fur traders, who visited them 
 from time to time, and gave them various ar- 
 ticles in exchange for their peltries, such as 
 powder and shot, and cutlery of different kinds, 
 as knives, scissors, needles, and pins, with gay 
 calicoes and cotton handkerchiefs for the women. 
 
 As the evenings lengthened, the boys em- 
 ployed themselves with carving wooden platters : 
 knives, and forks, and spoons they fashioned out 
 of the larger bones of the deer, which they of- 
 ten found bleaching in the sun and wind, where 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 151 
 
 they had been left by their enemies the wolves ; 
 baskets, too, they made, and birch dishes, which 
 they could now finish so well that they held 
 water, or any liquid ; but their great want was 
 some vessel that would bear the heat of the fire. 
 The tin-pot was so small that it could be made 
 little use of in the cooking way. Catharine had 
 made an attempt at making tea, on a small 
 scale, of the leaves of the sweet fern, — a graceful 
 woody fern, with a fine aromatic scent like nut- 
 megs. This plant is highly esteemed among 
 the Canadians as a beverage, and also as a 
 remedy against the ague; it grows in great 
 abundance on dry, sandy lands and wastes, by 
 waysides. 
 
 "If we could but make some sort of earthen 
 pot that would stand the heat of the fire," said 
 Louis, " we could get on nicely with cooking." 
 
 But nothing like the sort of clay used by pot- 
 ters had been seen, and they were obliged to 
 give up that thought, and content themselves 
 with roasting or broiling their food. Louis, 
 however, who was fond of contrivances, made 
 an oven, by hollowing out a place near the 
 hearth, and lining it with stones, filling up the 
 intervals with wood ashes and such clay as they 
 could find, beaten into a smooth mortar. Such 
 cement answered very well, and the oven was 
 heated hy filling it with hot embers j these wero 
 
 j^** 
 
 »,, 
 
152 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 removed when it was suiliciently heated, and 
 the meat or roots placed within, the oven being 
 covered over with a flat stone previously heated 
 before the fire, and covered with live coald. 
 This sort of oven had often been described by 
 old Jacob, as one in common use among some 
 of the Indian tribes in the lower province, in 
 which they cook small animals, and make ex- 
 cellent meat of them ; they could bake bread 
 also in this oven, if they had had flour to use.* 
 Since the finishing of the house and furnish- 
 ing it, the young people were more reconciled 
 to their lonely life, and even entertained decided 
 home feelings for their little log cabin. They 
 never ceased, it is true, to talk of their parents, 
 and brothers, and sisters, and wonder if all were 
 well, and whether they still hoped for their 
 return, and to recall all their happy days spent 
 in the home which they now feared they were 
 destined never again to behold. About the 
 same time they lost the anxious hope of meeting 
 some one from home in search of them at every 
 turn when they went out. Nevertheless, they 
 were becoming each day more cheerful and 
 more active. Ardently attached to each other, 
 f they seemed bound to each other by a yet more 
 
 * This primitive oven is much like what voyagers have 
 4e8oribed as in use among the natives of many of the South 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 163 
 
 aacred tie of brotherhood. They were now all 
 the world to one another, and no cloud of dis- 
 union came to mar their ha])piness. Hector's 
 habitual gravity and caution were tempered by 
 Louis's lively vivacity and ardour of temper, 
 and they both loved Catharine, and strove to 
 smooth, as much as possible, the hard life to 
 which she was exposed, by the most affectionate 
 consideration for her comfort ; and she in return 
 endeavoured to repay them by cheerfully endu- 
 ring all privations, and making light of all their 
 trials, and taking a lively interest in all theii 
 plans and contrivances. 
 
 Louis had gone out to fish at the lake ono 
 autumn morning. During his absence, a sudden 
 squall of wind came on, accompanied with heavy 
 rain. As he stayed longer than usual. Hector 
 began to feel uneasy, lest some accident had 
 befallen him, knowing his adventurous spirit, 
 and that he had for some days previous been 
 busy constructing a raft of cedar logs, which he 
 had fastened together with wooden pins. This 
 raft he had nearly finished, and was even talk- 
 ing of adventuring over to the nearest island to 
 explore it, and see what game, and roots, and 
 fruits it afforded. 
 
 Bidding Catharine stay quietly within doora 
 till his return, Hector ran off, not without soma 
 misgivings of evil having befallen his rasb 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 ff 
 
154 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 cousin, which fears he carefully concealed from 
 his sister, as he did not wish to make her need- 
 lessly anxious. When he reached the shore, his 
 mind was somewhat relieved by seeinf,^ the raft 
 on the beach, just as it had been left the night 
 before, but neither Louis nor the axe was to be 
 -seen, nor the fishing-rod and line. 
 
 " Perhaps," thought he, "Louis has gone fur- 
 ther down to the mouth of the little creek in 
 the flat east of this, where we caught our last 
 fish ; or maybe he has gone up to the old place 
 at Pine-tree Point." 
 
 While he yet stood hesitating within himself 
 which way to turn, he heard steps as of some 
 one running, and perceived his cousin hurrying 
 through the bushes in the direction of the 
 shanty. It was evident by his disordered air, 
 and the hurried glances that he cast over his 
 shoulder from time to time, that something ua- 
 usual had occurred to disturb him. 
 
 " Halloo I Louis, is it bear, wolf, or catamount 
 that is on your trail?" cried Hector, almost 
 amused by the speed with which his cousin hur- 
 ried onward. " Why, Louis, whither away ?" 
 
 Louis now turned and held up his hand, as if 
 to enjoin silence, till Hector came up to him. 
 
 "Why, man, what ails you? what makes 
 you run as if you were hunted down by a pack 
 of wolves ?" 
 
THE CANADIAN t'RUSOK.S. 
 
 155 
 
 air, 
 his 
 
 "It is not wolves, or bears either," said Louis, 
 as soon as he could get breath to speak, "but 
 the Indians are all on Bare-hill, holding a war 
 council, I suppose, for there are several canoe- 
 loads of them." 
 
 " How came you to see them ?" 
 
 *' I must tell you that vrL«.. T parted from 
 you and Cathy, instead c .' goiu'^ down to my 
 raft, as I thought at first I woild dv I followed 
 the deer path through the lii' '•? rav^e, and then 
 ascending the side of the va.ey, I crossed the 
 birch grove, and kept down the slope within 
 sight of the creek. While I was looking out 
 upon the lake, and thinking how pretty the 
 islands were, rising so green from the blue water, 
 I was surprised by seeing several dark spots 
 dotting the lake. At first, you may be sure, I 
 thought they must, be a herd of deer, only they 
 kept too far apart, so I sat down on a log to 
 watch, thinking if they turned out to be deer, I 
 would race off for you and Wolfe, and the bows 
 and arrows, that we might try our chance fc > 
 some venison ; but as the black specks came 
 nearer and nearer, I perceived they were canoes 
 with Indians in them, three in each. They made 
 for the mouth of the creek, and ran ashore 
 among the thick bushes. I watched them with 
 a beating heart, and lay down flat lest they 
 tuoulu spy me out ; for those fellows have eyes 
 
 i 
 
156 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 ^^1 
 
 ffs 
 
 
 like catamounts, so keen and wild— they seo 
 every thing without seeming to cast a glance on 
 j it. Wall, I saw them wind up the rid<^e till 
 ,phey reached the Bare-hill* You remember 
 that spot ; we called it so from its barren ap. 
 pearance. In a few minutes a column of smoka 
 rose and curled among the pine-trees, and then 
 another and another, till I counted five fires 
 burmng brightly ; and, as I stood on the high 
 ground, I could distinguish the figures of many 
 naked savages moving about, running to and 
 fro like a parcel of black ants on a cedar lo^ • 
 and by and by I heard them raise a yell like a 
 pack of ravenous wolves on a deer track. It 
 made my heart leap up in my breast. I forgot 
 all the schemes that had just got into my wise 
 head, of slipping quietly down, and taking off 
 one of the empty birch canoes, which you must 
 own would have been a glorious thing for us • 
 but when I heard the noise these wild wretches 
 raised, I darted off, and ran as if the whole set 
 were at my heels. I think I just saved my 
 scalp." And Louis put his hand to his head, and 
 tugged his thick black curls, as if to ascertain 
 
 * Supposed to be a councU hili It is known by the name 
 of Bnro-hiU, from the singular want of verdure on its surface 
 It IB one of the steepest on the ridge above the little creek- 
 bemg a picturesque object, with its fine pine-trees, seen tVom' 
 Mr. Hnyward's gro- ids, and forms, I believe, a part of hi» 
 property. 
 
 > 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES, 
 
 157 
 
 that they were still safe from the scalping-knives 
 of his Indian enemies. 
 
 " And now, Hec, what is to be done ? We 
 must hide ourselves from the Indians ; they will 
 kill us, or take us away with them if thev find 
 us." -^ 
 
 "Let us go home and talk over our plana 
 with Cathy." 
 
 "Yes; for I have heard my father say two 
 heads are better than one, and so three of course 
 must be still better than two." 
 
 "Why," said Hector, laughing, "it depends 
 upon the stock of practical wisdom in the heads, 
 for two fools, you know, Louis, will hardly form 
 one rational plan." 
 
 Various were the schemes devised for their 
 security. Hector propo?,ed pulling down the 
 shanty, and dispersing the logs, so as to leave 
 no trace of the little dwelling ; but to this neither 
 his cousin nor his sister would agree. To pull 
 down the new house that had cost them so much 
 labour, and which had proved such a comfort to 
 them, they could not endure even in idea. 
 
 " Let us put out the fire, and hide ourselves 
 in the big ravine below Mount Ararat, dig a 
 cave in one of the hills, and convey our house' 
 hold goods thither." Such was Louis's plan. 
 
 "The ravines would be searched directly,'' 
 raggested Hector ; " besides, the Indians know 
 14 
 
 
 
mamm 
 
 168 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 they are famous coverts for deer and game of all 
 sorts ; they might chance to pop upon us, and 
 oatch us like woodchucks in a burrow." 
 
 "Yes, and burn us," said Catharine, with a 
 shudder. " I know the path that leads direct to 
 the ' Happy Valley,' (the name she had given 
 to the low flat, now known as the ' lower Race- 
 course,') and it is not far from here, only ten 
 min-utes' walk in a straight line. We can con- 
 ceal ourselves below the steep bank that we 
 descended the other uay ; and there are several 
 springs of fresh water and plenty of nuts and 
 berries; and the trees, though few, are so 
 thickly covered with close spreading branches 
 that touch the very ground, that we might hide 
 ourselves from a hundred eyes were they ever 
 so cunning and prying." 
 
 Catharine's counsel was deemed the most 
 prudent, and the boys immediately busied them- 
 selves with hiding under the broken branches 
 of a prostrate tree such articles as they could not 
 conveniently carry away, leaving the rest to 
 chance; with the most valuable they loaded 
 themselves, and guided by Catharine, who, 
 with her dear o^ ' dog, marched forward along 
 the narrow footpath that had been made by 
 some wild animals, probably deer, in their pas- 
 sage from the lake to their feeding-place, or 
 — _ — .eitsi 
 
 ■u-is. etix: iKJW am 
 
 3A<gu 
 
 piamj 
 
THE CANADIAN ORUSOES. 
 
 169 
 
 wrhere, being quite open, and almost, in parts, 
 free from tvo.es, the grass and herbage were 
 sweeter and more abundant, and the springs of 
 water fresh and cool. 
 
 Catharine cast many a fearful glance through 
 the brushwood as they moved on\v .rd, but saw- 
 no living thing, excepting a family of chitminks 
 gayly chasing each other along a fallen braucn, 
 and a covey of quails, that were feeding quietly 
 on^ the red berries of the Mitchella repens, or 
 twinberry,* as it is commonly called, of which 
 the partridges and quails are extremely fond ; 
 for nature, with liberal hand, has spread abroad 
 her bounties for the small denizens, furred or 
 feathered, that haunt the Rice Lake and its 
 flowery shores. 
 
 After a continued but gentle ascent through 
 the oak opening, they halted at the foot of°a 
 majestic pine, and looked round them. It was 
 a lovely spot as any they had seen ; from west 
 to east, the lake, beading like a silver crescent, 
 lay betv/een the boundary hills of forest trees ; 
 in front, the long lines of undulating wood- 
 covered heights faded away into mist, and 
 blended with the horizon. To the east, a deep 
 and fertile valley lay between the high lands, 
 
 ^ • Also partridge-berry and oheckor-berry, a lovely creeping 
 win*«r-green, with white fragrant flowers, and douhla sa.».?!sl 
 beiTjr, 
 
 I 
 1 
 
160 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 on whicli they rested, and the far ridge of oak 
 hills. From their vantage height, they could 
 distinguish the outline of the Bare-hill, made 
 more distinct by its flickering fires and the 
 smoke wreaths that hung like a pearly-tinted 
 robe among the dark pines that grew upon its 
 crest. Not long tarrying did our fugitives 
 make, though perfectly safe from detection by 
 the distance and their shaded position, for many 
 a winding vale and wood-crowned height lay 
 between them and the encampment. 
 
 But fear is not subject to the control of reason 
 and in the present instance it invested the 
 dreaded Indians with superhuman powers of 
 sight and of motion. A few minutes' hasty 
 flight brought our travellers to the brow of a 
 precipitous bank, nearly a hundred feet above 
 the level open plain which they sought. Here, 
 then, they felt comparatively safe: they were 
 out of sight of the camp fires, the spot they had 
 chosen was open, and flight, in case of the ap- 
 proach of the Indians, not difficult, while hiding- 
 places were easy of access. They found a deep, 
 sheltered hollow in the bank, where two mighty 
 pines had been torn up by the roots, and proS' 
 trated headlong down the steep, forming a regu= 
 lar cave, roofed by the earth and fibres that had 
 been uplifted in their fall. Pendent from these 
 roots hung a luxuriant curtain of wild grape- 
 
THE CANADIAN ORUSOES. 
 
 161 
 
 vines and other creepers, which formed a leafy- 
 screen, through which the most curious eye 
 could scarcely penetrate. This friendly vege- 
 table veil seemed as if provided for their con- 
 cealment, and they carefully abstained from 
 disturbing the pendent foliage, lest they should, 
 by so doing, betray their hiding-place to their 
 enemies. They found plenty of long grass, and 
 abundance of long, soft green moss and ferns 
 near a small grove of poplars, which surrounded 
 a spring of fine water. They ate some dried 
 frrit and smoked fish, and drank some of the 
 clear spring; and after they hafl said their 
 evening prayers, they laid down to sleep, Catha- 
 rine's head pillowe i on the neck of her faithful 
 guardian, Wolfe. In the middle of the night a 
 startling sound, as of some heavy body falling, 
 wakened them all simultaneously. The night 
 was so dark they could see nothing, and terror- 
 struck, they sat gazing into the impenetrable 
 darkness cf their cave, not even daring to speak 
 to each other, hardly even to breathe. Wolfe 
 _ gave a low grumbling bark, and resumed his 
 couchant posture as if nothing worthy of his 
 attention was near to cause the disturbance. 
 Catharine trembled and wept, and prayed for 
 safety against the Indians and beasts of prey, 
 and Hector and Louis listened, till they fell 
 aaieep in spite of their fears. In the morning, 
 
 14* 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 it seemed as if tliey huid dreamed some terrible 
 dream, so vague were their recollection^: of ilie 
 fright they had had, but the cau.^e was soon 
 perceived. A large stone =hat had Veen heaved 
 up with the clay that adhered to the roots and 
 fibres, had been loosened, avil had fallen on the 
 groimd; close to the spot where Catharine ;ay. 
 So pondorous was the mass, that had it struck 
 her, dea*l; inu?": have been the consequence of 
 the blow ; -aid Hf,ctoi- and Louis beheld it with 
 fear and anir^j:- jment, while Catharine regarded 
 it 113 a proof of Divine mercy and protection 
 from Him iu whose hand her safety lay. The 
 boys, warned by this accident, carefully re- 
 moved several large stones from the roof, and 
 tried the safety of their clay walls with a stout 
 Btafl^ to ascertain that all was secure, before 
 they again ventured to sleep beneath this 
 rugged canopy. 
 
 
THE CANADIAN CBU30ES. 
 
 168 
 
 ; ! 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 " The soul of the wicked desireth evil; his neighbour fludeth 
 no favour in his sight." — Proverbs. 
 
 Tj^OR several days they abstained from light- 
 ■^ ing a fire, lest the smoke should be seen ; but 
 this, the great height of the bank would have 
 effectually prevented. They suffered much cold 
 at night from the copious dews, which, even on 
 sultry summer evenings, is productive of much 
 chilling. They could not account for the fact 
 that the air, at night, was much warmer on the 
 high hills than in the low valleys ; they were 
 even sensible of a rush of heat as they ascended 
 to the higher ground. These simple children 
 had not been taught that it is the nature of the 
 heated air to ascend, and its place to be supplied 
 by the colder and denser particles. They no- 
 ticed the effects, but understood nothing of the 
 causes that ruled them. 
 
 The following days they procured several 
 partridges, but feared to cook them ; however, 
 they plucked them, split them open, and dried 
 the flesh for a future day. A fox or racoon, 
 attracted by the smell of the birds, came one 
 nd carried them off, for in the morning 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 
 "O' 
 
164 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 they were gone. They saw several herd of deer 
 crosnng the plain, and one day Wolfe tracked 
 a wounded doe to a covert under the poplars 
 near a hidden spring, where she had lain herself 
 down to die in peace, far from the haunts of her 
 fellows. The arrow was in her throat ; it was 
 of white flint, and had evidently been sent from 
 an Indian bow. It was almost with fear and 
 trembhng that they availed themselves of the 
 vemson thus providentially thrown in their 
 way, lest the Indians should track the blood of 
 the doe, and take vengeance on them for appro- 
 priating it for their own use. Not having seen 
 any thing of the Indians, who seemed to confine 
 themselves to the neighbourhood of the lake 
 after many days had passed, they began to take 
 courage, and even lighted an evening fire at 
 which they cooked as much venison as would 
 last them for several days, and hung the remain- 
 mg portions above the smoke to preserve it from 
 injury. 
 
 One morning. Hector proclaimed his intention 
 of ascending the hills, in the direction of the 
 Indian camp. " I am tired of remaining shut up 
 m this dull place, where we can see nothing but 
 this dead flat, bounded by those melancholy 
 pines in the distance that seem to shut us in." 
 ^ Little did Hector know that beyond that dark 
 ndge of pine hills lav t.hA linm^ «f fU^:» .i-.-i j 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 166 
 
 hood, and but a few miles of forest intervened 
 to hide it from their sight. Had he known it, 
 how eagerly would his feet have pressed on- 
 ward in the direction of that dark barrier of 
 evergreens I 
 
 Thus is it often in this life : we wander on, 
 sad and perplexed, our path beset with thorns 
 and briers. We cannot see our way clear; 
 doubts and apprehensions assail us. We know 
 not how near we are to the fulfilment of our 
 wishes ; we see only the insurmountable bar- 
 riers, the dark thickets and thorns of our way ; 
 and we know not how near we are to our Fa- 
 ther's home, where He is waiting to welcome the 
 wanderers of the flock back to the everlasting 
 home, the fold of the Good Shepherd. 
 
 Hector became impatient of the restraint that 
 the dread of the Indians imposed upon his 
 movements : he wanted to see the lake again ; 
 and to roam abroad free and uncontrolled. 
 
 " After all," said he ; " we never met with 
 any ill treatment from the Indians that used to 
 visit us at Cold Springs ; we may even find old 
 friends and acquaintances among them." 
 
 " The thing is possible, but not very likely," 
 replied Louis. " Nevertheless, Hector, I would 
 not willingly put myself in their power. The 
 Indian has his own notion of things, and might 
 fch 
 
 ma. muxscJ.! 
 
 
 us, 11 uv 
 
166 
 
 THR CaIJAPVAN CBUSOES. 
 
 found us on hi s hunting-grounds.''* I have heard 
 my father say,— and he knows a great deal 
 about then' people.—that their chiefs are very 
 strict in punishing any &tn.v<rcT^ " ^}^Qy ^^^ 
 killing game on their bounds uninvited. They 
 are both merciless and treacherous when anger- 
 ed, aud we could not even speak to them° in 
 their own language, to explain by what chance 
 we <i£.me here." 
 
 This was very prudent of Louis, uncommonly 
 so, for one who was naturally rash and head- 
 strong, but unfortunately Hector was inflexible 
 and wilful: when once he h.d made up his 
 mind upon any point, he ,ad too good an opin- 
 ion of his own judgment to give it up. At last, 
 he declarer his intention, rather than remain a 
 slave to such cowardly fears as he now deemed 
 them, to go forth boldly, and endeavour to as- 
 certain what the Indians were about, Low many 
 there were of them, and what -eal danger was 
 to be apprehenc' 1 frorp facing heci. 
 
 ♦ George Copway, en intelligent Rice Lakf Indian, snys the 
 Indian hunting-grounds are parcelled out, and seeured bv right 
 of law and custom amor.j; tBomsolves, no on^ being nllo'= ed to 
 Lv.nt upon another's grom.U uninvited. If ,ny one belonging 
 to another family or tribe is found treapaa- /rr, all his '^oods 
 are taken from him ; a handful of powder u, [ shot, as much as 
 he would need to shoot game for ' - sust. jnnce in returning 
 Bjraight home, and his gun, knife, . on awk only are left, 
 kut aU his game and fnrs are take rom -n ; a message ia 
 Bent to hui chief, and if he transgres.-, a ti .lu time, he is ban- 
 l»hed and outlaw«d.-Zi/9 0/ <?. Qypivav. tenfUn h/humi 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 1«7 
 
 *' Depend upon it," he added, " cowards are 
 never safer than brave men. The Indians de- 
 spise cowards, and would be more likely to kill 
 us if they found us cowering here in this hole 
 like a ]>arcel of wolf-cubs, than if we openly 
 faced them and showed that we neither feared 
 them, nor cared for them." 
 
 " Hector, dear Hector, be not so rash 1" cried 
 his sister, passionately weeping. " Ah I if we 
 were to lose you, what would become of us?" 
 
 *' Never fear, Kate ; I will run into no need- 
 less danger. I know how to take care of myself. 
 I aai of opinion that the Indian camp is broken 
 np ; they seldom stay long in one place. I will 
 i^ over the hills and examine the camp at a 
 distance and the lake shore. You and Louis 
 ma^ .eep watch for my return from the big 
 pine that ^ -e halted under on our way hither." 
 
 " But, tor, if the savages should see you, 
 and take you prisoner," said Catharine, " what 
 would you do ?" 
 
 " I will tell you what I would do. Instead 
 of running away, I would boldly walk up to 
 them, and by aigns make them understand that 
 I am no scout, but a friend in need of nothing 
 but kindness and friendship. I never yet heard 
 of the Indmn that would tomahawk the defence- 
 less stranger that sought his camp openly in 
 peace an^ good-will." 
 
168 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOfiS. 
 
 " If you do not return by sunset, Hector, we 
 shall believe tl it you have fallen into the hands 
 of the savages," said Catharine, mournfully re- 
 garding her brother. 
 
 " If it were not for Catharine," said Louis, 
 "you should not go alone ; but if evil befell this 
 helpless one, her blood would be upon my head, 
 who led her out with us, tempting her with 
 false words." 
 
 " Never mind that now, dearest cousin," said 
 Catharine, tenderly laying her hand on his arm. 
 " It is much better that we should have been all 
 three together ; I should never have been happy 
 again if I had lost both Hcc and you. It is 
 better as it is ; you and Hec would not have 
 been so well off if I had not been with you to 
 help you, and keep up your spirits by my songs 
 and stories." 
 
 " It is true, ma ch^re ; but that is the reason 
 that I am bound to take care of my little cousin, 
 and I could not consent to exposing you to dan- 
 ger, or leaving you alone ; so, if Hec will be so 
 headstrong, I will abide by you." 
 
 Hector was so confident that he should return 
 in safety, that at last Louis and Catharine be- 
 came more reconciled to his leaving them, and 
 soon busied themselves in preparing some squir- 
 rels that Louis had brought in that morning. 
 
 The day wore away slowly, and many were 
 
I 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 169 
 
 ilK 
 
 the anxious glances that Catharine cast over the 
 crest of the high bank to watch for her brother's 
 return; at last, unable to endure the suspense, 
 she with Louis left the shelter of the valley;' 
 they ascended the high ground, and bent their 
 stepaiK) the trysting tree, which commanded all 
 the country within a wide sweep. 
 
 A painful and oppressive sense of loneliness 
 and desolation came over the minds of the 
 cousins as they sat together at the foot of the 
 pine, which cast its lengthened shadow upon 
 the ground before them. The shades of evening 
 were shrouding them, wrapping the lonely forest 
 in gloom. The full moon had not yet risen, and 
 they watched for the first gleam that should 
 break above the eastern hills to cheer them, as 
 for the coming of a friend. 
 
 Sadly these two poor lonely ones sat hand in 
 hand, talking of the happy days of childhood, 
 of the perplexing present, and the uncertain fu- 
 ture. At last, wearied out with watching and 
 anxiety, Catharine leaned her head upon the ^' 
 neck of old Wolfe and fell asleep, while Louis - 
 restlessly paced to and fro in front of the sleeper ; 
 now straining his eye to penetrate the surround- 
 ing gloom, now straining his ear to catch the 
 first sound that might irdicPte the approach of 
 his absent cousin. 
 
 It was almost with a fe-elino' of irritability 
 Id 
 
170 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOE^ 
 
 that he heard the quick, sharp note of the 
 wakefu] "whip-poor-will," as she flew from 
 bough to bough of an old withered tree besido 
 him. Anothei-, and again ^mother of these 
 midnight watchers took up the monotonous 
 never-yarying cry of "Whip-poor-will, phip- 
 poor- will ;" and then came forth, from many a 
 hollow oak and birch, the spectral nighthawk 
 from hidden dens, where it had lain hushed in 
 silence all day, from dawn till sunset. Sometimes 
 their sharp, hard wings almost swept his cheek, 
 as they wheeled round and round in circles, 
 first narrow, then wide, and wider extending, till 
 at last they soared far above the tallest tree-tops, 
 and launching out in the high regions of the 
 air, uttered from time to time a wild, shrill 
 
 '•; scream, or hollow booming sound, as they sud- 
 denly descended to pounce with wide-extended 
 throat upon some hapless moth or insect, that 
 sported all unheeding in mid air, happily uncon- 
 scious of the approach of so unerring a foe. 
 
 # Petulantly Louis chid these discordant miu' 
 strels of the night, and joyfully he hitiled the 
 first gush of moonlight that rose broad and full 
 and red over the Oak-hills to the eastward. 
 
 Louis envied the condition of the unconscious 
 sleeper, who lay in happy forgetfulness of all 
 her sorrows, her fair curls spread in unbound 
 luxuriance over the dark, shaggy neck of t^e 
 
THE CAK ADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 m 
 
 i4& 
 
 faithful Wolle, wiio seemed as if proud of tha 
 beloved burden that rested so trustingly upon 
 him Sometimes the careful dog just unclosed 
 his large eyes, raised his nose from his sha^^v 
 paws, snuffed the night air, growled in a sort of 
 under tone, and dosed again, but watchfully 
 
 It would be no easy task to tell the painful 
 feelings that agitated young Louis's breast. He 
 was angry with Hector for having thus madly 
 a. he thought, rushed into danger. "It was 
 wilful and almost cruel," he thought "to leave 
 them the prey of such tormenting fears on his 
 account ; and then the most painful fears for the 
 safety of his beloved companion took the place 
 of less kindly thoughts, and sorrow filled his 
 heart. The broad moon now flooded the hills 
 and vrles with light, casting broad, checkering 
 shadows of the old oaks' grey branches and now 
 reddened foliage across ihe ground 
 
 Suddenly the old dog raises his head, and 
 u.ters a shcit half angry note: slowly and 
 careful^r he rises, disengaging himself gentlv 
 
 forth in the fu)l light of the moon. It is an 
 open, cleared space, that mound beneath the 
 pine-tree; a few low shrubs and seedling pines 
 with the slender waving branches of the late! 
 flowenng pearly tinted asters, the" elegant 
 «-^e-- g^uaa, wiia. open bells of azurw 
 
172 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 il 
 
 i 
 
 l! 1 
 
 blue, the last and loveliest of the fall flowers and 
 winter-greens, brighten the ground with wreaths 
 of shining leaves and red berries. 
 
 Louis is on the alert, though as yet he sees 
 nothing. It is not a full, free note of welcome 
 that Wolfe gives ; there is something uneasy and 
 half angry in his tone. Yet it is not fierce, like 
 the bark of angry defiance he gives, when wolf, 
 or bear, or wolverine is near. 
 
 Louis steps forward from the shadow of the 
 pine branches to the edge of the inclined plane 
 in the foreground. The slow tread of approach- 
 ing steps is now distinctly heard advancing 
 — it may be a deer. Two figures approach, 
 and Louis moves a little within the shadow 
 again. A clear, shrill whistle meets his ear. 
 It is Hector's whistle, he knows that, and assured 
 by its cheerful tone he springs forward and in 
 an instant is at his side, but starts at the strange 
 companion that he half leads, half carries. The 
 moonlight streams broad and bright upon the 
 shrinking figu" ^ of an Indian girl, apparently 
 about the same age as Catharine • her ashy face 
 is concealed by the long masses of raven black 
 hair, which falls like a dark veil over her 
 features; her step is weak and unsteady, and 
 she seems ready to sink to the earth with 
 sickness or fatigue. Hector, too, seems weary. 
 
 h 
 
 !.l 
 
•^ 
 
 ->«iS''*^. 
 
 fl 
 
THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 ITS 
 
 me, Louis, to lead this poor girl to the foot 
 of the pine ; I am so tired I can hardly walk 
 another step." 
 
 Louis and his cousin together carried the 
 Indian girl to the foot of the pine. Catharine 
 was just rousing herself from sleep, and she 
 gp.zed with a bewildered air on the strange 
 companion that Hector had brought with him. 
 The stranger lay down, and in a few minutes 
 sank into a sleep so profound it seemed to 
 resemble that of death itself. Pity and deep 
 interest soon took the place of curiosity and 
 dread in the heart of the gentle Catharine, and 
 she watched the young stranger's slumber as 
 tenderly as though she had been a si.^ter or 
 beloved friend, while Hector proceeded to relate 
 in what manner he had encountered the Indian 
 girl. . 
 
 ^ " When I struck the high slope near the little 
 birch grove we called the ' Birken-shaw,' I 
 paused to examine if the council fires were still 
 burning on Bare-hill, but there was no smoke 
 visible, neither was there a canoe to be seen 
 at the lake shore where Louis had described * 
 their landing-place at the mouth of the creek. 
 All seemed as silent and still as if no human 
 footstep had trodden the shore. I sat down and 
 watched for nearly an hour till my attention 
 waa attracled by a noble eagle, which was 
 15* 
 
iU 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOfiS, 
 
 Bailing in wide circles over the tall pine-trees 
 on Bare-hill. Assured that the Indian camp 
 was broken up, and feeling some curiosity to 
 examine the spot more closely, I crossed the 
 thicket of cranberries and cedars and small 
 underwood that fringed the borders of the little 
 stream, and found myself, after a little pushing 
 and scrambling, among the bushes at the foot 
 of the hill. 
 
 "I thought it not impossible I might find 
 Bomething to repay me for my trouble— flint 
 arrow-heads, a knife, or a tomahawk— but I 
 little thought of what these cruel savages hi\d 
 left there,— a miserable wounded captive, bound 
 by the long locks of her hair to the stem of a. 
 small tree, her hands, tied by thongs of hide to 
 branches which they had bent down to fasten 
 them to her feet, bound fast to the same tree as 
 that against which her head was fastened ; her 
 position was one that must have been most 
 painful: she had evidently been thus left to 
 perish by a miserable death, of hunger and 
 thirst; for these savages, with fiendish cruelty, 
 had placed within sight of their victim an 
 earthen jar of water, some dried deer's flesh, 
 and a cob* of Indian corn. I have the corn 
 here," he added, putting his hand in his breast, 
 and displaying it to view. 
 
 a. ussd of ths iiAiio, oi- ludiaa corn, is oailed a «• oob.'* 
 
 
 li 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0K3. 
 
 175 
 
 
 " Wounded she was, for I drew this arrow 
 from her shoulder," and he showed the flint 
 head as he spoke, " and fettered ; with food an6 
 drink in sight, the poor girl was to perish, per 
 haps to become a living prey to the wolf and 
 the eagle that I saw wheeling above the hill 
 top. The poor thing's lipa^ were black and 
 parched with pain and thirst; she turned hei 
 eyes piteously from my fece to the water jar a? 
 if to implore a draught. This I gave her, and 
 then having cooled the festering wound, and cut 
 the thongs that bound her, I wondered that sht 
 still kept the same immovable attitude, and 
 thinking she was stiff and cramped with re 
 maiuing so long bound in one position, I took 
 her two hands and tried to induce her to movA, 
 I then for the first time noticed that she waa 
 tied by the hair of her h id to the tree aguinst 
 which her back was placed; T was obliged to 
 cut the hair with my knife, ana this I did not 
 do without giving her pain, as she moaned 
 impatiently. She sunk her head on her breast, 
 and large tears fell over my hands as I bathed 
 lier face and neck with the water from the jar; 
 she then seated herself on the ground, and re- 
 mained silent and still for the space of an hour, 
 nor could I prevail upon her to speak, or quit 
 the seat she had taken. Fearing that the In- 
 diaus might return, I watched in all directions, 
 
176 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 and at last I began to think it would be best 
 to carry her in my arms; but this I found no 
 easy task, for she seemed greatly distressed at 
 any attempt I made to lift her, and by her ges- 
 tures I fancy she thought I was going to kill 
 her. At last my patience began to be exhausted, 
 but I did not like to annoy her. I spoke to 
 her as gently and soothingly as I could. By de- 
 grees she seemed to listen with more composure 
 to me, though she evidently knew not a word 
 of what I said to her. She rose at last, and 
 taking my hands, p. )ed them above her head, 
 stooping low as she did so, and this seemed to 
 mean, she was willing at last to submit to my 
 wishes ; I lifted her from the ground, and carried 
 her for some little way, but she was too heavy 
 for me,— she then suffered me to lead her along 
 whithersoever I would take her, but her steps 
 were so slow and feeble, through weakness, that 
 many times I was compelled to rest while she 
 recovered herself. She seems quite subdued 
 now, and as quiet as a lamb." 
 
 Catharine listened, not without tears of genuine 
 sympathy, to the recital of her brotner's adven- 
 tures. She seemed to think he had been in- 
 spired by God to go forth that day to the Indian 
 camp, to rescue the poor forlorn one from so 
 dreadful a death. 
 
 ./•*lTia'ri 
 
 .il.. 
 
 ■jiii-^-a„i^if vvas euSij y^anuiiy tti'uuseci 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 177 
 
 for the young savage, and he commended Hector 
 for his bravery and humanity. 
 
 He then set to work to L'ght a good fire, 
 which was a great addition to their comfort as 
 well as cheerfulness. They did not go back to 
 their cave beneath the upturned trees, to sleep, 
 preferring lying, with their feet to the fire, under 
 the shade of the pine. Louis, however, jyas 
 despatched for water and venison for slipper. 
 
 The following morning, by break of day, they 
 collected their stores, and conveyed them back 
 to the shanty. The boys were thus employed, 
 while Catharine watched beside the wounded 
 Indian girl, whom she tended with the greatest 
 care. She bathed the inflamed arm with water, 
 and bound the cool, healing leaves of the 
 tacamahac'^ about it with the last fragment of her 
 apron ; she steeped dried berries in water, and 
 gave the cooling drink to quench the fever- 
 thirst that burned in her veins and glittered in 
 her full, soft melancholy dark eyes, which were 
 raised at intervals to the face of her youthful 
 nurse, with a timid hurried glance, as if she 
 longed, yet feared to say, " Who are you that 
 thus tenderly bathe my aching head, and strive 
 to sooth my wounded limbs, and cool my fevered 
 blood ? Are you a creature like myself, or a 
 being sent by the Great Spirit, from tue far-off 
 
 * Indian balsam. 
 
178 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 happy land to which my fathers have gone, to 
 Bmooth my path of pain, and lead me to those 
 blessed fields of sunbeams and flowers where 
 the cruelty of the enemies of my people will no 
 more have power to torment me ?" 
 
 1 1 
 
 if 
 
 t 
 
le, to 
 :hose 
 'here 
 lino 
 
 THS CANADIAN CHUSOES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 179 
 
 " Here the wren of Roftest note 
 
 Builds its nest and wnrblo.s well ; 
 Here the blackbird strains its throat ; 
 Welcome, welcome to our cell." — CoLKRioaK. 
 
 nnHE day was far advanced before the sick 
 -■- Indian girl could be brought home to 
 their sylvan lodge, where Catharine made up a 
 comfortable couch for her, with boughs and 
 grass, and spread one of the deer-skins over it, 
 and laid her down as tenderly and carefully as 
 if she had been a dear sister. This good girl was 
 overjoyed at having found a companion of her 
 own age and sex. " Now," said she, " I shall no 
 more be lonely, I shall have a companion and 
 friend to talk to and assist me ;" but when sha 
 turned in the fulness of her heart to address 
 herself to the young stranger, she felt herself 
 embarrassed in what way to make her com- 
 prehend the words she used to express the kind- 
 ness that she felt for her, and her sorrow for 
 her sufferings. 
 
 The young stranger would raise her head, 
 look intently at her, as if striving to interpret 
 "^x TTvawo, tut;ii Bitui^- Biiiiice ner neaa, ana utter 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. M5B0 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
; h 
 
 ■'li 
 
 
 180 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 her words in her own plaintive language, but 
 alas! Catharine felt it was to her as a sealed 
 book. 
 
 She tried to recall some Indian words of 
 familiar import, that she had heard from the 
 Indians when they came to her father's house, 
 but in vain; not the simplest phrase occurred 
 to her, and she almost cried with vexation at 
 her own stupidity ; neither was Hector or Louis 
 more fortunate in attempts at conversing with 
 their guest. 
 
 At the end of three days the fever began to 
 abate, the restless eye grew more steady in its 
 gaze, the dark fiush faded from the cheek, 
 leaving it of a grey ashy tint, not the hue of 
 health, such as even the swarthy Indian shows, 
 but wan and pallid, her eyes bent mournfully on 
 the ground. 
 
 ^ She would sit quiet and passive while 
 Catharine bound up the long tresses of her 
 hair, and smoothed them with her hands and 
 the small wooden comb that Louis had cut for 
 her use. Sometimes she would raise her eyea 
 to her new friend's face, with a quiet sad smile, 
 and once she took her hands within her own' 
 and gently pressed them to her breast and lips 
 and forehead in token of gratitude, but she 
 seldom gave utterance to any words, and would 
 remain with her fivfia fiTro/l xronor^-i- 
 
 -- -^ — >"- TMvcwiiuijr vu sumo 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 181 
 
 object which seemed unseen or to awaken no 
 idea in her mind. At such times the face of 
 the young squaw wore a dreamy apathy of 
 expression, or rather it might with more pro- 
 priety have been said, the absence of all ex- 
 pression, almost as blank as that of an infant 
 of a few weeks old. 
 
 How intently did Catharine study that face, 
 and strive to read what was passing within her 
 mind I how did the lively intelligent Canadian 
 girl, the offspring of a more intellectual race, 
 long to instruct her Indian friend, to enlarge her 
 mind, by pointing out such things to her 
 attention as she herself took interest in 1 She 
 would then repeat the name of the object that 
 she showed her several times over, and by 
 degrees the young squaw learned the names of 
 all the familiar household articles about the 
 shanty, and could repeat them in her own soft 
 plaintive tone; and when she had learned a new 
 word, and could pronounce it distinctly, she 
 would laugh, and a gleam of innocent joy and 
 pleasure would lighten up her fine dark eyes, 
 generally so fixed and sad-looking. 
 
 It was Catharine's delight to teach her pupil 
 
 to speak a language familiar to her own ears ; 
 
 she would lead her out among the trees, and 
 
 lame to her all the natural objects that pro 
 
 vuipi^ tiiomocxvca i.u viovv. ^na sne in iierturii 
 
 16 
 
182 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 made " Indiana" (for so they named the young 
 squaw, after a negress that she had heard her 
 father tell of, a nurse to one of his colonel's in- 
 fant children) tell her the Indian names for 
 each object they saw. Indiana soon began to 
 enjoy in her turn the amusement arising from 
 instructing Catharine and the boys, and often 
 seemed to enjoy the blunders they made in pro- 
 nouncing the words she taught them. When 
 reallj^ interested in any thing that was going on, 
 her eyes would beam out, and her smile give an 
 inexpressible charm to her face, for her lips were 
 red and her teeth even and brilliantly white, 
 so purely white that Catharine thought she had 
 never seen any so beautiful in her life before ; 
 at such times her face was joyous and innocent 
 as a little child's ; but there were also hours of 
 gloom, that transformed it into an expression of 
 sullen apathy; then a dull glassy look c 
 possession of her eye, the full lip drooped and 
 the form seemed rigid and stiflf ; obstinate deter- 
 mination neither to move nor speak characterized 
 her in what Louis used to call the young squaw's 
 "dark hour." Then it was that the savage 
 nature seemed predominant, and her gentle 
 nurse almost feared to look at her protegee or 
 approach her. 
 
 " Hector," said Louis, " you spoke about a jar 
 v* TTWTOx uciug icifc «&b Luu ccuxip^ i;ae jar wouid 
 
THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 188 
 
 be a great treasure to us, let us go over for it " 
 Hector assented to the proposal. "And we 
 may possibly pick up a few grains of Indian 
 corn, to add to what you showed us." 
 
 "If we are here in the spring," said Hector, 
 "you and I will prepare a small patch of ground 
 and plant it with this corn;" and he sat down 
 on the end of a log and began carefully to count 
 the rows of grain on the cob, and then each 
 corn grain by grain. " Three hundred and ten 
 sound grains. Now if every one of these pro- 
 duces a strong plant, we shall have a great in- 
 crease, and besides seed for another year, there 
 will be, if it is a good year, several bushels to 
 eat." 
 
 " We shall have a glorious summer, mon ami, 
 no doubt, and a fine flourishing crop, and Kate 
 is a good hand at making supporne."* 
 
 " You forget we have no porridge pot." • 
 " I was thinking of that Indian jar all the 
 time. You will see what fine cookery we will 
 make when we get it, if it will but stand fire. 
 Come, let us be off, I am impatient till we get it 
 home ;" and Louis, who had now a new crotchet 
 at work in his vivacious brain, was quite on 
 the qui Vive, and walked and danced along at a 
 
 • Suppome, probably an Indian word for a stirabout, or 
 pomdge^made of Indian meal, a common dish in every Cnna^ 
 oian or laakee iUrmer'f* house. 
 
m, 
 
 J! 
 
 
 V i 
 
 184 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 rate which proved a great disturbance to his 
 graver companion, who tried to keep down hig 
 cousin's lively spirits by suggesting the proba- 
 bility of the jar being cracked, or that the In- 
 dians might have returned for it ; but Louis was 
 not one of the doubting sort, and Louis was 
 right in not damping the ardour of his mind by 
 causeless fears. The jar was there at the de- 
 serted camp, and though it had been knocked 
 over by some animal, it was sound and strong, 
 and excited great speculation in the two cousins 
 as to the particular material of which it was 
 made, as it was unlike any sort of pottery they 
 had ever before seen. It seemed to have been 
 manufactured from some very dark red earth, or 
 clay mixed up with pounded granite, as it pre- 
 sented the appearance of some coarse crystals ; 
 it was very hard and ponderous, and the surface 
 was marked over in a rude sort of pattern as if 
 punctured and scratched with some pointed in- 
 strument. It seemed to have been hardened by 
 fire, and, from the smoked hue of one side, had 
 evidently done good service as a cooking uten- 
 sil. Subsequently they learned the way in 
 which it was used :* the jar being placed near 
 
 ♦ Pieces of this rude pottery are often found along the 
 shires of the inland lakes, but I have never d et with any of 
 the perfect vessels in use with the Indians, who probably find 
 it now easier to supply themselves with iron pots and crockery 
 ffom the towns of iLd European settlers. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 18^ 
 
 bat not on the fire, was surrounded by hot 
 bers, and the water made to boil by stones 
 
 era- 
 
 bein 
 
 g 
 
 made red hot and plunged into it : in this way 
 soup and other food were prepared, and kept 
 stewing, with no further trouble after once tlie 
 simmering began than adding a few fresh em- 
 bers at the side furthest fjjprn the fire ; a hot 
 stone also placed on the top, facilitated the 
 cooking process. 
 
 Louis, who like all French people was addict- 
 ed t.o cookery, — indeed, it was an accomplish- 
 ment he prided himself on, — was enchanted 
 with the improvement made in the diet by the 
 acquisition of the said earthen jar or pipkin, 
 and gave Indiana some praise for initiating his 
 cousin in the use of it Catharine and Hector 
 declared that he went out with his bow and 
 arrows, and visited his dead-falls and snares ten 
 times oftener than he used to do, just for the 
 sake of proving the admirable properties of this 
 precious utens^^r and finding out some new way 
 of dressing his^me. 
 
 At all events tliere was a valuable increase of 
 furs, for making up into clothing, caps, leggings, 
 mitts, and other articles. * -*- ^ 
 
 From the Indian girl, Catharine learned tl!©^ 
 
 value of many of the herba and shrubs that 
 
 grew in her path, the bark and leaves of various 
 
 trees, and many dyei ske <JQUl4 extract^ frith. 
 
 _ 16» 
 
^6 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRU30ES. 
 
 which she stained the quills of the porcupine 
 and the strips of the wood of which she made 
 baskets and mats. The little creeping winter- 
 green,* with its scarlet berries, that grows on 
 the dry flats or sandy hills, which the Canadians 
 call spice-berry, she showed them was good to 
 eat, and she would crush the leaves, draw forth 
 their fine aromatic flavour in her hands, and then 
 inhale their fragrance with delight. She made 
 an infusion of the leaves, and drank it as a 
 tonic. The inner bark of the wild black cherry 
 she said was good to cure ague and feve/. The 
 root of the dulgamara, or bitter-sweet, she scraped 
 down and boiled in the deer-fat, or the fat of 
 auy other animal, and made an ointment that 
 possessed very healing qualities, especially as 
 an immediate application to fresh burns. 
 
 Sometimes she showed a disposition to mys- 
 tery, and would conceal the knowledge of the 
 particular herbs she made use of; and Catherine 
 uoveral times noticed that she would go out and 
 sprinkle a portion of the food she had assisted 
 her in preparing, on the earth, or under some 
 of the trees or bushes. When she was more 
 familiar with their language, she told Catharine 
 this was done in token of gratitude to the Good 
 Spirit, who had given them success in hunting 
 or trapping ; or else it was to appease the malice 
 
 * GhuiU&tHaj»wumb«u,-^]^i(s& Winter-green. 
 
 a.. 
 

 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E8. 
 
 I8y 
 
 of the Evil Spirit, who might bring mischief or 
 loss to them, or sickness or death, unless his for- 
 bearance was purchased by some particular mark 
 of attention.* 
 
 Attention, memory, and imitation appeared 
 to form the three most remarkable of the men- 
 tal faculties developed by the Indian girl. She 
 examined (when once her attei\Jion was roused) 
 any object with critical minuteness. Any knowl- 
 edge she had once acquired she retained ; her 
 memory was great, she never missed a path she 
 had once trodden ; she seemed even to single 
 out particular birds in a flock, to know them 
 from their congeners. Her powers of imitation 
 were also great ; she brought patience and perse- 
 verance to assist her, and t?t)9n once thoroughly 
 interested in any work #i' began, she would 
 toil on untiringly till it ^^mpleted ; and then 
 what triumph shone in" Ji&yes I At such times 
 they became darkly brillSht with the joy that 
 filled her heart. But she j)ossessed little talent 
 
 * By the testimony of many of the ludians themselves, they 
 appear to entertain a certain Polytheism in their belief. " We 
 believed in one great, wise, Jjcnevolent being, Thesha-mon-e- 
 uoo, whose dwelling wob in the sun. We believed also in many 
 other lesser spirits— gods of the elements, and in one bad, unap- 
 peasable spirit, Mah-je-mah-ne-doo, to whom we attributed bad 
 luck, evil accidents, and sickness and death. This bad spirit has 
 to be conoUiated with meat and drink offerings."— Zt/« 0/ Oeorgt 
 thpway. 
 
^188 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E8. 
 
 for invention ; what had she seen done, after a 
 few imp^^t attempts, she could do again, but 
 she rarely struck out any new path for herself. 
 
 At times sne was docile and even playful, and 
 appeared grateful for the kindness with which 
 she was treated ; each day seemed to increase 
 her fondnAjL for Catharine, and she appeared to 
 delight in d8ii|^any little service to please and 
 gratify her, but it was towards Hector that she 
 displayed the deepest feeling of affection and 
 respect. Tt was to him her first tribute of fruit 
 or flowers, furs, mocassins, or oTnamental plu- 
 mage of rare birds was offered. She seemed to 
 turn to him as to a master and protector. He 
 was in her eyes the "Chief," the head of his 
 tribe. His bow was strung by her, and stained 
 with quaint figures and devices; his arrows 
 were carved by her ; the sheath of deer-skin 
 was made and ornamented by her hands, that 
 he carried his knife in ; and the case for his 
 arrows, of birch-bark^was wrought with especial 
 neatness, and suspenlbd by thongs to his neck, 
 when he was preparia*g to go out in search of 
 game. She gave him the name of the "Young 
 Eagle." While she c«llred Louis, "Nee-chee," 
 or friend ; to Catharine she gave the poetical 
 name of "Music of the Winds," — Ma-wah-osh. 
 
 When they asked her to tell them her own 
 name, sue would uend down u&i head in sorrow 
 
 i 
 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 189 
 
 n sorrow 
 
 and refuse to pronounce it. She soon answered 
 to the name of Indiana, and seemed pleased 
 with the sound. 
 
 But of all the household, next to Hector, old 
 Wolfe was the greatest favourite. At first, it is 
 true, the old dog regarded the new inmate with 
 a jealous eye, and seemed uneasy when he saw 
 her approach to caress him, bjjt Indiana soon 
 reconciled him to her person, and mutual 
 friendly feeling became established between 
 them, which seemed daily and hourly to in- 
 crease, greatly to the delight of the young 
 stranger. She would seat herself Eastern fash- 
 ion, cross-legged on the floor of the shanty, with 
 the capacious head of the old dog in her lap, 
 and address herself to this mute companion in 
 wailing tones, as if she would unburden her 
 heart by pouring into his unconscious ear her 
 tale of desolation and woe. 
 
 Catharine was always very particular and 
 punctual in performing her personal ablutions, 
 and she intimated to Inljana that it was good 
 for her to do the san . / but the young girl 
 seemed reluctant to follow her example, till 
 daily custom had recoraailed h^r to what she ev- 
 idently at first regarded as an unnecessary cere- 
 mony ; but she soon took pleasure in dressing 
 her dark hair, and suffering Catharine to braid 
 it, and poliBu it till it, looked glossy and soil. 
 
190 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 Indiana in her turn would adorn Catharine with 
 the wings of the blue-bird or red-bird, the crest 
 of the wood-duck, or quill feathers of the 
 golden-winged flicker, which is called in the 
 Indian tongue the shot-bird, in allusion to the 
 round spots on its cream-coloured breast.* But 
 it was not in these things alone she showed her 
 grateful sense of the sisterly kindness that her 
 young hostess showed to her; she soon learned 
 to lighten her labours in every household work, 
 and above all, she spent her time most usefully 
 in manufacturing clothing from the skins of the 
 wild animals, and in teaching Catharine how to 
 fit and prepare them. But these were the occu- 
 pation of the winter months. I must not fore- 
 stall my narrative. 
 
 ♦ The Golden-wiuged Flicker belongs to a sub-genus of 
 woodpeckers ; it is very handsome, and is aeid to be eatable ; U 
 Uvea on fruits and insects. 
 
 • 
 
THE CANADIAN CRrsOES, 
 
 w. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Go to the ant."~Pr(»erb». 
 
 FT waa now the middle of September. Th« 
 •^.weather, which had continued serene and 
 beautiful for some time, with dewy nights and 
 misty mornings, began to show symptoms of 
 the change of season , ual at the approach of 
 the equinox. SuddeL squalls of wind, with 
 hasty showers, would come sweeping over the 
 lake; the nights and mornings were damp and 
 chilly. Already the tints of autumn were be- 
 ginning to crimson the foliage of the oaks, and 
 where the islands were vi.'ble, the splendid col- 
 
 trast with the deep verdure of the evergreen, 
 and xignt r den-yellow of the poplar; but 
 lovely as tney now looked, they had not yet 
 reached the meridian of their beauty, which a 
 
 destined o bring to perfection-a glow of splen- 
 
 dour to gladden the eye for a brief space, before 
 
 the rushing winds and rains of the following 
 
 month were to sweep them away, and scatter 
 
 them abroad upon the earth. 
 
 One morniricr ino* «a. • » . -, 
 
 '— oi j«ae «wwir a CigQE 01 heavy rain 
 
 « 
 
..»a».«*Ui.».«ii.-.i.^ 
 
 
 '^ii 
 
 # 
 
 
 : 
 
 : 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 t 
 
 
 ]92 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 and wind, the two boys went down to see if the 
 lake was calm enough for trying the raft, which 
 Louis had finished before the coming on of the 
 bad weather. The water was rough and crested 
 with mimic waves, and they felt not disposed 
 to launch the raft on so stormy a surface, but 
 they stood looking out over the lake and 
 admiring the changing foliage, when Hector 
 pointed out to his cousin a dark speck dancing 
 on the waters, between the two nearest islands. 
 The wind, which blew very strong still from 
 the north-east, brought the object nearer every 
 minute. At first they thought it might be a 
 pine-branch that was floating on the surface, 
 when as it came bounding over the waves, they 
 perceived that it was a birch-canoe, but impelled 
 by no visible arm. It was a strange sight upon 
 that lonely lake to see a vessel of any kind 
 afloat, and, on first deciding that it was a canoe, 
 the boys were inclined to hide themselves among 
 the bushes, for fear of the Indians, but curiosity 
 got the better of their fears. 
 
 " The owner of yonder little craft is either 
 asleep or absent from her; for I see no paddle, 
 and it is evidently drifting without any one to 
 guide it," said Hector, after intently watching 
 the progress of the tempest-driven vessel. As- 
 sured as it approached nearer that such was the 
 case, they hurried to the beach just as a fresh 
 
see if the 
 raft, which 
 f on of the 
 and crested 
 3t disposed 
 surface, but 
 
 lake and 
 ten Hector 
 3k dancing 
 rest islands. 
 r still from 
 earer every 
 might be a 
 ;he surface, 
 evaves, they 
 lut impelled 
 
 1 sight upon 
 f any kind 
 vas a canoe, 
 3lves among 
 ut curiosity 
 
 ift is either 
 i no paddle, 
 any one to 
 ,ly watching 
 vessel. As- 
 luch was the 
 it as a fresh 
 
 THE CAXADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 193 
 
 gust had lodged the canoe among the branches 
 of a fallen cedar which projected out some way 
 int-5 the water. 
 
 By creeping along the trunk of the tree, and 
 trusting at times to the projecting boughs, Louis, 
 who wa£, the most active and the lightest of 
 weight, succeeded in getting within reach of the 
 «anoe, and with some trouble and the help of a 
 *tout branch that Hector harmed to him, he 
 contrived to moor her in sale./ on the shore, 
 taking the precaution of hauling her well up on 
 the shingle, lest the wind and water should set 
 her afloat again. "Hec, there is something in 
 this canoe the sight of which will gladden your 
 heart," cried Louis, with a joyful look. " Come 
 quickly, and see my treasures." 
 
 " Treasures 1 You may well call them trea- 
 sures," exclaimed Hector, as he helped Louis to 
 examine the contents of the canoe and place 
 them on the shore, side by side. 
 
 Tne boys could hardly find words to express 
 their joy and surprise at the discovery of a large 
 jar of parched rice, a tomahawk, an Indian 
 blanket almost as good as new, a large mat 
 rolled up with a bass bark rope several yards 
 in length wound round it, and, what was more 
 precious than all, an iron three-legged pot in 
 which was a quantitv of InrHan r^nm tu^^^ 
 
 articles had evidently constituted the stores of 
 17 
 
mmrnvr 
 
 (ill 
 
 Vi i 
 
 in > 
 
 [|:i 
 
 IP 
 
 194 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 some Indian hunter or trapper; possibly tb«i 
 canoe had been imperfectly secured and had 
 drifted from its moorings during the gale of the 
 previous night, unless by some accident the 
 owner had fallen into the lake and been drowned. 
 This was of course only a matter of conjecture 
 on which it was useless to speculate ; and the 
 boys joyfully took possession of the good for- 
 tune that had so providentially been wafted, as 
 it were, to their very feet. 
 
 "It was a capital chance for us, that old 
 cedar having been blown down last night just 
 where it was," said Louis; "for if the canoe 
 had not been drawn into the eddy, and stopped 
 by the branches, we might have lost it. I trem- 
 bled when I saw the wind driving it on so rap- 
 idly that it would founder in the deep water, 
 or go off to Long Island." 
 
 " I think we should have got it at Pine-tree 
 Point," said Hector, "but I am glad it was 
 lodged so cleverly among the cedar boughs. I 
 was half afraid you would have fallen in once 
 or twice, when you were trying to draw it nearer 
 
 to the shore." 
 
 » Never fear for me, my friend ; I can cling 
 like a wild cat when I climb. But what a 
 grand pot I What delightful soups, and st-ews, 
 ^^A v>,>;ia nqtV>arir>P. will make ! Hurrah 1" and 
 Louis tossed up his new fur cap, that he had 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 196 
 
 ssibly tb« 
 . and had 
 jale of the 
 lident the 
 I drowned, 
 conjecture 
 ; and the 
 3 good for- 
 wafted, as 
 
 , that old 
 night just 
 the canoe 
 nd stopped 
 it. I trem- 
 on so rap- 
 ieep water, 
 
 it Pine-tree 
 ylad it was 
 boughs. I 
 en in once 
 aw it nearer 
 
 I can cling 
 »ut what a 
 , and st^ws, 
 urrah 1" and 
 ihat he had 
 
 made with great skill from an entire fox-skin 
 in the air, and cut sundry fantastic capers which 
 Hector gravely condemned as unbecoming his 
 mature age ; (Louis was turned of fifteen ;) but 
 with the joyous spirit of a little child he 
 sung, and danced, and laughed and shouted, till 
 the lonely echoes of the islands and far-off hills 
 returned the unusual sound, and even his more 
 steady cousin caught the infection, and laughed 
 to see Louis so elated. 
 
 Leaving Hector to guard the prize, Louis ran 
 gayly off to fetch Catharine to share his joy, and 
 come and admire the canoe, and the blanket, and 
 the tripod, and the corn, and the comahawk. 
 Indiana accompanied them to the lake shore, 
 and long and carefully she examined the canoe 
 and its contents, and many were the plaintive 
 exclamations she uttered, as she surveyed the 
 things piece by piece, till she took notice of the 
 broken handle of an Indian paddle which lay 
 at the bottom of the vessel. This seemed to 
 afford some solution to her of the mystery, and 
 by broken words and signs she intimated that 
 the paddle had possibly broken in the hand of 
 the Indian, and that in endeavouring to regain 
 the other part, he had lost his balance and been 
 drowned. She showed Hector a rude figure of 
 
 ft bird encrrnvorJ witVi e>^>v./^ _i •__ . 
 
 ^ „..,u aomc csuiii-p iuscrument, 
 
 and rubbed in with a blue colour. This, she 
 
196 
 
 THE CANADIAN CrlUSOES. 
 
 said, was the totem or crest of the chief of the 
 tribe, and was meant to represent a crow. The 
 canoe had belonged to a chief of that name. 
 While they were dividing the contents of the 
 canoe among them to be carried to the shanty, 
 Indiana, taking up the bass-rope and the blanket, 
 bundled up the most of the things, and adjust- 
 ing the broad, thick part of the rope to the front 
 of her head, she bore off the burden with great 
 apparent ease, as a London or Edinburgh porter 
 would his trunks and packag(?s, turning round 
 with a merry glance and repeating some Indian 
 •words with a lively air, as she climbed with ap- 
 parent ease the s^eep bank, and soon distanced 
 her companions, tb her great enjoyment. That 
 night Indiana cooked some of the parched rice, 
 Indian fushion, with venison, and they enjoyed 
 the novelty very much — it made an excellent 
 substitute for bread, of whifeh they had been so 
 long deprived. 
 
 Indiana gave them to understand that the 
 rice harvest would soon be ready on the lake, 
 and that now they had got a canoe, they would 
 go out and gather it, and so lay by a store lo 
 last them for many months. 
 
 This little incident furnished the inhabitants 
 of the shanty with frequent themes for discus- 
 sion. Hector declared that the Indian corn was 
 the most valuable of their acquisitions. "It 
 
shief of the 
 crow. The 
 that name, 
 tents of the 
 the shanty, 
 the blanket, 
 and adjust- 
 3 to the front 
 n with great 
 burgh porter 
 rning round 
 some Indian 
 bed with ap* 
 )n distanced 
 ment. That 
 jarched rice, 
 ;hey enjoyed 
 an excellent 
 had been so 
 
 ad that the 
 on the lake, 
 I, they would 
 )y a store to 
 
 e inhabitants 
 es for discus- 
 lian corn was 
 sitions. " It 
 
 .1 
 
 V- 
 
 I 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 197 
 
 ^ J ensure us a crop, and bread and seed- 
 corn for many years," he said ; he also highly 
 valued the tomahawk, as his axe was worn and 
 blunt. ^ 
 
 •Louis was divided between the iron pot and 
 the canoe. Hector seemed to think the raft, 
 after all, might have formed a substitute for 
 the latter; besides, Indiana had signified hei 
 intention of helping him to make a canoe. 
 Catharine declared in favour of the blanket, as 
 it would make, after thorough ablutions, warm 
 petticoats with tight boddices for herself and In- 
 diana. With deer-skin leggings, and a fur 
 jacket, they should be comfortably clad. In- 
 diana thought the canoe the most precious, and 
 was charmed with the good jar and the store 
 of rice : nor did she despise the packing rope, 
 which she soon showed was of use in carrying 
 burdens from place to place, Indian fashion ; 
 by placing a pad of soft fur in fron^ of the head, 
 she could carry heavy loads with great ease. 
 The mat, she said, was useful for drying the 
 rice she meant to store. 
 
 The very next day after this adventure, the 
 two girls set to work, and with the help of 
 Louisas large knife, which was called into re- 
 quisition as a substitute for scissors, they cut 
 uut^the blanket dresses, and in a short time 
 made two comfortable and not very unsightly 
 
 s 
 
 ^0^' 
 
f 
 
 I ii!l 
 
 198 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRU30ES. 
 
 garments : the full, short, plaited skirts reached 
 tt little below the knee ; light vests bordered 
 with fur completed the upper part, and leggings, 
 terminated at the ankles by knotted fringes of 
 the doe-skin, with mocassins turned over with 
 a band of squirrel fur, completed the novel but 
 not very unbecoming costume ; and many a 
 glance of innocent satisfaction did our young 
 damsels cast upon each other when they walked 
 forth in the pride of girlish vanity to display 
 their dresses to Hector and Louis, who, for 
 their parts, regarded them as most skilful dress- 
 makers, and were never tired of admiring and 
 commending their ingenuity in the cutting, 
 making, and fitting, considering what rude im- 
 plements they were obliged to use in the cutting 
 out and sewing of the garments. 
 
 The extensive rice-beds on the lake had now 
 begun to assume a golden tinge which con- 
 trasted very delightfully with the deep blue 
 waters — looking, when lighted up by the sun- 
 beams, like islands of golden-coloured sand. 
 The ears, heavy laden with the ripe grain, 
 drooped towards the water. The time of the 
 rice-harvest was at hand, ajid with light and 
 joyous hearts our young adventurers launched 
 the canoe, and, guided in thpir movements by 
 the little squaw, paddled to the extensive 
 aquatic fields to gatb'i*' '^* »o^ \&t^v\jn^ Oathariuo 
 
 't4' 
 
THE OANADIAX CHL'riOES. 
 
 199 
 
 rts reached 
 s bordered 
 d leggings, 
 fringes of 
 over with 
 ! novel but 
 d many a 
 our young 
 ley walked 
 to display 
 1, who, for 
 ilful dress- 
 niring and 
 le cutting, 
 ,t rude im- 
 the cutting 
 
 :e had now 
 vhich con- 
 deep blue 
 y the sun- 
 ired sand, 
 'ipe grain, 
 ime of the 
 light and 
 s launched 
 ements by 
 extensive 
 Qatharmo 
 
 I 
 *■% 
 
 It 
 
 and Wolfe to watch their proceedings fi-om the 
 raft, which Louis had fastened to a young tree 
 that projected out over the lake, and which 
 made a good landing-place, likewise a wharf 
 where they could stand and fish very comfort- 
 ably. As the canoe could not be overloaded 
 on account of the rice-gathering, Catharine very 
 readily consented to employ herself with fishing 
 from the raft till their return. 
 
 The manner of procuring the rice was very 
 simple. One person steered the canoe with the 
 aid of the paddle along the edge of the rice beds, 
 and another with a stick in one hand, and a 
 curved, sharp-edged paddle in the other, struck 
 the heads off as they bent them over the edge 
 of the stick ; the chief art was in letting the 
 heads fall into the canoe, which a little practice 
 soon enabled them to do as expertly as the 
 mower lets the grass fall in ridges beneath his 
 scythe. 
 
 Many bushels of wild rice were thus collected. 
 Nothing could be more delightful than this sort 
 of work to our young people, and merrily they 
 worked, and laughed, and sung, as they came 
 home each day with their light bark laden with 
 a store of grain that they knew would preserve 
 them from starving through the long, dreary 
 winter that was coming on. 
 
 i.Jv x/ciUv/€ rraa a ouUxuc VI ^rtiiii coinTorc ana 
 
 w:w 
 
 . >yT.~" 
 
i' 
 
 li 
 
 200 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 pleasure to them ; they were now able to paddle 
 out into the deep water, and fish for masquinonj^ 
 and black bass, which they caught in great num- 
 bers. 
 
 Indiana seemed quite another creature, when 
 armed with a paddle of her own carving, she 
 knelt at the head of the canoe and sent it flying 
 over the water; then her dark eyes, often so 
 vacant and glassy, sparkled with delight, and 
 her teeth gleamed with ivory whiteness as her 
 face broke into smiles and dimples. 
 
 It was delightful then to watch this child of 
 nature, and see how innocently happy she could 
 be when rejoicing in the excitement of healthy 
 exercise, and elated by a consciousness of the 
 power she possessed of excelling her companions 
 in feats of strength and skill which they had yet 
 to acquire by imitating her. 
 
 Even Louis was obliged to confess that the 
 young savage knew more of the management of 
 a canoe, and the use of the bows and arrows, 
 and the fishing-line, than either himself or his 
 cousin. Hector was lost in admiration of her 
 skill in all these things, and Indiana rose highly 
 in his estimation the more he saw of her use- 
 fulness. 
 
 " Every one to his craft," said Louis, laughing ; 
 " the little squaw has been brought up in the 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 201 
 
 to paddld 
 tsquinonj^ 
 reat num- 
 
 ure, when 
 •ving, she 
 t it %ing 
 I, often so 
 Hght, and 
 !S3 as her 
 
 3 child of 
 she could 
 f healthy 
 ;ss of the 
 mpaniona 
 )y had yet 
 
 that the 
 jement of 
 i arrows, 
 3lf or his 
 )n of her 
 )se highly 
 
 her 1150- 
 
 aughing ; 
 ip in the 
 
 T ii urixx L±\JX 
 
 babyhood ; perhaps if we were to set her to 
 knitting, and spinning, and milking of cows, 
 and house-work, and learning to read, I doubt if 
 she would prove half as quick as Catharine or 
 Mathilde." 
 
 " I wonder if she knows any thing of God or 
 our Saviour," said Hector, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Who should have taught her ? for the In- 
 dians are all heathens," replied Louis. 
 
 " I have heard my dear mother say, the mis- 
 sionaries have taken great pains to teach the In- 
 dian children down about Quebec and Montreal, 
 and that so far from being stupid, they learn 
 very readily," said Catharine. 
 
 " We must try and make Indiana learn to say 
 her prayers ; she sits quite still, and seems to take 
 no notice of what we are doing when we kneel 
 down, before we go to bed," observed Hector. 
 
 " She cannot understand what we say," said 
 Catharine ; " for she knows so little of our lan- 
 guage yet, that of course she cannot com- 
 prehend the prayers, which are in other sort 
 of words than what we use in speaking of 
 hunting and fishing, and cooking, and such 
 matters." . 
 
 " Well, when she knows more of our way of 
 speaking, then we must teach her ; it is a sad 
 thing for Christian children to live with an un- 
 tauifht p-gan," said Louis, who, being rather 
 
 %. 
 
 •'^P'*: 
 
v: 
 
 202 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 [I t' 
 
 I 
 
 bigoted in his creed, felt a sort of uneasiness in 
 his own mind at the poor girls total want of the 
 rites of his church ; but Hector and Catharine 
 regarded her ignorance with feelings of compas- 
 sionate interest, and lost no opportunity that 
 offered of trying to enlighten her darkened mind 
 on the subject of belief in the God who made, 
 and the Lord who saved them. Simply and 
 earnestly they entered into the task as a labour 
 of love, and though for a long time Indiana 
 seemed to pay little attention to what they said, 
 by slow degrees the good seed took root and 
 brought forth fruit worthy of Him whose Spirit 
 poured the beams of spiritual light into her 
 heart: but my young readers must not ima- 
 gine these things were the work of a day — the 
 process was slow, and so were the results, but 
 they were good in the end. 
 
 And Catharine was glad when, after many 
 months of patient teaching, the Indian girl asked 
 permission to kneel down ., ith her white friend, 
 and pray to the Great Spirit and His Son 
 in the same words that Christ Jesus gave to his 
 disciples; and if the full meaning of that holy 
 prayer, so full of humility and love, and moral 
 justice, was not fully understood by her whose 
 lips repeated it, yet even the act of worship and 
 the desire to do that which she had been told 
 was fight, w^as, doubtless, a sacrifice better than 
 
 #t 
 
THE CANADIAN CKUSOEd. 
 
 203 
 
 ?asmess m 
 vant of the 
 
 Catharine 
 Df compas- 
 unity that 
 ened mind 
 vhc made, 
 mply and 
 s a labour 
 e Indiana 
 they said, 
 
 root and 
 lose Spirit 
 ; into her 
 
 not ima- 
 
 day — the 
 3sults, but 
 
 fter many 
 girl asked 
 ite friend, 
 His Son 
 ave to his 
 that holy 
 md moral 
 ber whose 
 rship and 
 been told 
 
 the pagan rites which that young girl had wit- 
 nessed among her father's people, who, blindly 
 following the natural impulse of man in hia 
 depraved nature, regarded deeds of blood and 
 cruelty as among the highest of human virtues, 
 and gloried in those deeds of vengeance at which 
 the Christian mind revolts with horror. 
 
 Indiana took upon herself <-he management of 
 the rice, drying, husking, and storing it, the tW' / 
 lads working under her direction. Sho caused 
 several forked stakes to be cut and sharpened 
 and driven into the ground ; on these were laid 
 four poles, so as to form a frame, over which she 
 then stretched the bass-mat, which she secured 
 by means of forked pegs to the frame on the 
 mat ; she then spread out the rice thinly, and 
 lighted a fire beneath, taking good care not to 
 let the flame set fire to the mat, the object 
 being rather to keep up a strong slow -heat, by 
 means of the red embers. She next directed 
 the boys to supply her with pine or cedar 
 boughs, which she stuck in close together, so 
 as to enclose the fire within the area of the 
 stakes. This was done to concentrate the heat 
 and cause it to bear upwards with more power ; 
 the rice being frequently stirred with a sort of 
 long-handled flat shovel. After the rice was 
 sufficiently dried, the next thing to be done was 
 
 husk, and this was effected 
 
 
 from 
 
 « 
 
 
204 
 
 THE CANADIAN (JRUSOES. 
 
 11! 
 
 T 
 
 i% 
 
 by putting it by f^mnW quantities into the iron 
 pot, and with a son f wooden pestle or beetle, 
 rubbing it round and round against the sides.* 
 If they had not had the iron pot, a wooden trough 
 must have been substituted in its stead. 
 
 When the rice was husked, the loose chaff was 
 winnowed from it in a flat basket like a sieve, 
 and it was then put by in coarse birch baskets, 
 roughly sewed with leather-wood bark, or bags 
 made of matting, woven by the little squaw 
 from the cedar-bark. A portion was also parched, 
 which was simply done by putting the rice dry 
 into the iron pot, and setting it on hot embers, 
 stirring the grain till it burst: it was then 
 stored by for use. Kice thus prepared is eaten 
 dry, as a substitute i'oi bread, by the Indians. 
 
 The lake was now swarming with wild fowl 
 of various kinds ; crowds of ducks were wing- 
 ing their way across it from morning till night, 
 floating in vast flocks upon its surface, or rising 
 in noisy groups if an eagle or fishhawk appeared 
 sailing with slow, majestic circles above them, 
 then settling down with noisy splash upon the 
 calm water. The shores, too, were ". vfred 
 with these birds, feeoing on the fallen aconm 
 which fell ripe and brown with evei^ i loamg 
 
 * The Indians often make use of a VMy rude, primitire sort 
 of mortar, by hollowing; out a bass-wood stamp, and rubbing 
 tin* rice with a wooden ooonder. 
 
THK CANADIAN OBUSOES. 
 
 206 
 
 breeze ; the berries of the dogwo -d also furnish- 
 ed them with food ; but the wild rice seemed 
 the great attraction, and small shell-fish, and tlio 
 larvae of many insects that had been dropped 
 into the waters, there to come to perfection in 
 due season, or to form a provision for myriads of 
 wild fowl that had come from the far north-west 
 to feed upon them, guided by that instinct which 
 has so beautifully been termed by one of our 
 modern poetesses, 
 
 " God's gift to thft weak." » 
 
 * Mn. Southey. 
 
 M 
 
 ^If" 
 
206 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Oh, corae mid hear what cruel wrongs 
 Befell the Dark Ladye." — Coleridge. 
 
 npHE Mohawk girl was in high spirits at the 
 -■- coming of the wild fowl to the lake ; she 
 would clap her hands and laugh with almost 
 childish glee as she looked at them darkening 
 the lake like clouds resting on its surface. 
 
 " If I had but my father's gun, his good old 
 gun, now !" would Hector say, as he eyed the 
 timorous flocks as they rose and fell upon the 
 lake ; " but these foolish birds are so shy, that 
 they are away before an arrow can reach them." 
 Indiana smiled in her quiet way; she was 
 busy;^lling the canoe with green boughs, which 
 she arranged so as completely to transform the 
 little vessel into the semblance of a floating 
 island of evergreen ; within this bower she mo- 
 tioned Hector to crouch down, leaving a small 
 space for the free use of his bo'", while concealed 
 at the prow she gently and noiselessly paddled 
 the canoe from the shore among the rice-beds, 
 letting it remain stationary or merely rocking 
 to and fro with the undulatory motion of the 
 
 wateiB. 
 
 m- 
 
 #•1 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 207 
 
 The unsuspecting birds, deceived into full 
 Becuritj, eagerly pursued their pastime or their 
 prey, and it was no difficult matter for the hid- 
 den archer to hit many a black duck or teal or 
 whistlewiug, as it floated securely on the 
 placid water, or rose to shift its place a few 
 yards up or down the stream. Soon the lake 
 around was strewed with the feathered game, 
 which Wolfe, cheered on by Louis, who was 
 stationed on the shore, brought to land. 
 
 Indiana told Hector that this was the season 
 when the Indians made great gatherings on the 
 lake for duck-shooting, which they pursued much 
 after the same fashion as that which has been 
 described, only instead of one, a dozen or more 
 canoes would be thus disguised with boughs, 
 with others stationed at different parts of the 
 lake, or under the shelter of the island, to collect 
 the birds. This sport was generally finished by 
 a great feast. 
 
 The Indians offered the first of the birds as 
 an oblation to the Great Spirit, as a grateful 
 acknowledgment of his bounty in having 
 allowed them to gather food thus plentifully for 
 their families; sometimes distant tribes with 
 whom they were on terms of friendship were 
 invited to share the sport and partake of the 
 spoils. 
 
 Indiana could not understand why Hector 
 
 "1 
 
f 
 
 
 208 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 iii 
 
 
 ■|, 
 
 did not follow the custom of her Indian fathers, 
 and offer the first duck or the best fish to pro- 
 pitiate the Great Spirit. Hector told her that 
 the God he worshipped desired no sacrifice ; that 
 his holy Son, when he came down from heaven 
 and gave himself as a sacrifice for the sins of 
 the world, had satisfied his Father, the Great 
 Spirit, an hundred-fold. 
 
 Thej feasted now continually upon the water- 
 fowl, and Catharine learned from Indiana how 
 to skin them, and so preserve the feathers for 
 making tippets, and bonnets, and ornamental 
 trimmings, which are not only warm, but light 
 and very becoming. They split open any of the 
 birds that they did not require for present con- 
 sumption, and these they dried for winter store, 
 . smoking some after the manner that the Shet- 
 landers and Orkney people smoke the solan 
 geese: their shanty displayed an abundant 
 store of provisions, fish, flesh, and fowl, besides 
 baskets of wild rice, and bags of dried fruit. 
 
 One day Indiana came in from the brow of 
 the hill, and told the boys that the lake eastward 
 was covered with canoes ; she showed, by hold- 
 ing up her two hands and then three fingers, that 
 she had counted thirteen. The tribes had met 
 for the annual duck-feast, and for the rice-harvest. 
 She advised them to put out the fire, so that no 
 smoke might be seen to attract them ; but said 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 209 
 
 they would not leave the lake for hunting over 
 the plains just then, as the camp was lower down 
 . on the point* east of the mouth of a big river, 
 which she called " Otonabee." 
 
 Hector asked Indiana if she would go away 
 and leave them, in the event of meeting with 
 any of her own tribe. The girl cast her eyes 
 on the earth in silence ; a dark cloud seemed to 
 gather over her face. 
 
 "If they should prove to be any of your 
 father's people, or a friendly tribe, would you 
 go away with them?" he again repeated, to 
 which she solemnly replied, 
 
 " Indiana has no father, no tribe, no people ; 
 no blood of her father's warms the heart of any 
 man, woman, or child, saving myself alone ; but 
 Indiana is a brave, and the daughter of a brave, 
 and will not shrink from danger : her heart is 
 warm; red blood flows warm here," and she 
 laid her hand on her heart. Then lifting up 
 her hand, she said with slow but impassioned 
 tone, " They left not one drop of living blood to 
 flow in any veins but these," and her eyes were 
 raised, and her arms stretched upwards towards 
 
 * This point, commonly known aa Anderson's Point, now the 
 iCttt of the Indian village, used iu former times to be a great 
 place of rendezvous for the Indians, and was the site of a mur- 
 derous carnage or massacre that took place about eighty years 
 ggo ; the wor-weupona and hnne.R of the Indians are of^en tamed 
 up with the plough at this day. 
 
 \k 
 
 18 
 
 .* 
 

 ■3 1} 
 
 
 210 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES 
 
 heaven, as though calling down vengeance on 
 the murderers of her father's house. 
 
 "My father was a Mohawk, the son of a 
 great chief, who owned these hunting-grounds 
 far as your eye can see to the rising and setting 
 sun, along the big waters of the big lakes ; but the 
 Ojebwas, a portion of the Chippewa nation, by 
 treachery cut off my father's people by hundreds 
 in cold blood, when they were defenceless and 
 at rest. It was a bloody day and a bloody 
 deed." 
 
 Instead of hiding herself, as Hector and Louis 
 strongly advised the young Mohawk to do, she 
 preferred remaining as a scout, she said, under 
 the cover of the bushes on the edge of the steep 
 that overlooked the lake, to watch their move- 
 ments. She told Hector to be under no apppre- 
 hension if the Indians came to the hut ; not to 
 attempt to conceal themselves, but offer them 
 food to eat and water to drink. " If they come 
 to the house and find you away, they will take 
 your stores and burn your roof, suspecting that 
 you are afraid to meet them openly ; but they 
 will not harm you if you meet them with open 
 hand and'fearless brow : if they eat of your bread 
 they will not harm you ; me they would kill by 
 a cruel death— the war-knife is in their heart 
 ftgaiust the daughter of the brave." 
 
 The bovs though t, Tnrliflnn'si arlxn'no r,r^r^A ^^.A 
 
 ,fr 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0E9. 
 
 211 
 
 they felt no fear for themselves, only for Cath- 
 arine, whom they counselled to remain in the 
 ehanty with Wolfe. 
 
 The Indians seemed intent only on the sport 
 which they had come to enjoy, seeming in high 
 glee, and as far as they could see quite peaceably 
 disposed ; every night they returned to the camp 
 on the north side, and the boys could see their 
 fires gleaming among the trees on the opposite 
 shore, and now and then in the stillness of the 
 evening their wild shouts of revelry would come 
 faintly to their ears, borne by the breeze over 
 the waters of the lake. 
 
 The allusion that Indiana had made to her 
 own history, though conveyed in broken and 
 hardly intelligible language, had awakened feel- 
 ings of deep interest for her in the breasts of 
 her faithful friends. Many months after this 
 she related to her wondering auditors the fearful 
 story of the massacre of her kindred, and which 
 I may as well relate, as I have raised the curi- 
 osity of my youthful readers, though to do so 
 I must render it in my own language, as the 
 broken, half-formed sentences in which its facts 
 were conveyed to "the ears of my Canadian 
 Crusoes would be unintelligible to my youno- 
 friends.* 
 
 * The facto of this narmtivA wAm wnt'here'i ft""* *■*•« i: «# 
 
 the eldeat son of a Bice Lake chief. I have preferred giving »» 
 
ii t 
 
 ¥ 
 
 ^i\ 
 
 ; 
 
 I 
 
 !' 
 
 212 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 There had been for some time a jealous feel- 
 ing existing between the chiefs of two principal 
 tribes of the Ojcbwas and the Mohawks, which 
 like a smothered lire had burnt in the heart of 
 each, without having burst into a decided blaze 
 — for each strove to compass his ends and obtain 
 the advantage over the other by covert means. 
 The tribe of the Mohawks of which I now 
 speak, claimed the southern shores of the Rice 
 Lake for their hunting-grounds, and certain 
 islands and parts of the lake for fishing, while 
 that of the Ojcbwas considered themselves 
 masters of the northern shores and certain rights 
 of water besides. Possibly it was about these 
 rights that the quarrel originated, but if so, it 
 was not openly avowed between the " Black 
 Snake," (that was the totem borne by the Mo- 
 hawk chief,) and the " Bald Eagle" (the totem 
 of the Ojebwa). 
 
 These chiefs had each a sou, and the Bald 
 Eagle had also a daughter of great and rare 
 beauty, called by her people " The Beam of 
 the Morning ;" she was the admiration of Mo- 
 hawks as well as Ojeb)was, and many of the 
 young men of both the tribes had sought her 
 hand, but hitherto in vain. Among her numer- 
 ous suitors the son of the Black Snake seemed 
 
 in the present form, rather than as the story of the Indian glrU 
 . Simple as it is, it is matter of history 
 
THE CANADIAN ORUSOES. 
 
 213 
 
 Lhe Indian glrU 
 
 to be the most enamoured of her beauty; and 
 it was probably with some intention of winning 
 the favour of the young Ojebwa squaw for hia 
 son, that the Black Snake accepted the formal 
 invitation of the Bald Eagle to come to his 
 hunting-grounds during the rice-harvest, and 
 ehoot deer and ducks on the lake, and to ratify 
 a truce which had been for some time set on foot 
 between them ; but while outwardly professing 
 friendship and a desire for peace, inwardly the 
 fire of hatred burned fiercely in the breast of the 
 Black Snake against the Ojebwa chief and his 
 only son, a young man of great promise, re- 
 nowned among his tribe as a great hunter and 
 warrior, but who had once offended the Mohawk 
 chief by declining a matrimonial alliance with 
 one of the daughters of a chief of inferior rank, 
 who was closely connected to him by marriage. 
 This affront rankled in the heart of the Black 
 Snake, though outwardly he afi"Scted to have 
 forgiven and forgotten the slight that had been 
 put upon his relative. 
 
 The hunting had been carried on for some 
 days very amicably, when one day the Bald 
 Eagle was requested, with all due attention to 
 Indian etiquette, to go to the wigwam of the 
 Black Snake. On entering the lodge, he per- 
 ceived the Mohawk strangely disordered ; he rose 
 from his mat, on which he had been sleeping, 
 
1 m 
 
 I 
 
 214 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 with a countenance fearfully distorted, his eyea 
 glaring hideously, his whole frame convulsed, 
 and writhing as in fearful bodily anguish, and 
 casting himself upon the ground, he rolled and 
 grovelled on the earth, uttering frightful yells 
 and groans. 
 
 The Bald Eagle was moved at the distressing 
 state in which he found his guest, and asked the 
 cause of his disorder, but this the other refused 
 to tell. After some hours the fit appeared to 
 subside, but the chief remained moody and silent. 
 The following day the same scene was repeated, 
 and on the third, when the fit seemed to have 
 increased in bodily agony, with great apparent 
 reluctance, wrung seemingly from him by the 
 importunity of his host, he consented to reveal 
 the cause, which was, that the Bad Spirit had 
 told him that these bodily tortures could not 
 cease till the only son of his friend, the Ojebwa 
 chief, had been sacrificed to appease his anger — 
 neither could peace long continue between the 
 two nations until this deed had been done ; and 
 not only must the chiefs son be slain, but he 
 must be pierced by his own father's hand, and 
 his flesh served up at a feast at which the father 
 must preside. The Black Snake affected the 
 utmost horror and aversion at so bloody and 
 unnatural a deed being committed to save his 
 life and the happiness of his tribe, but the peace 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 216 
 
 was to be ratified for ever if the sacrifice was 
 made,— if not, war to the knife was to be ever 
 between the Mohawks and Ojebwas. 
 
 The Bald Eagle seeing that his treacherous 
 guest would make this an occasion of renewing 
 a deadly warfare, for which possibly he was not 
 at the time well prepared, assumed a stoical 
 calmness, and replied, 
 
 " Be it so ; great is the power of the Bad Spirit 
 to cause evil to the tribes of the chiefs that rebel 
 against his will. My sou shall be sacrificed by , 
 my hand, that the evil one may be appeased 
 and that the Black Snake's body may have ease,' 
 and his people rest beside the fires of their 
 lodges in peace." 
 
 "The Bald Eagle has spoken like a chief 
 with a large heart," was the specious response 
 of the wily Mohawk; "moreover, the Good 
 Spirit also appeared, and said, 'Let the Black 
 Snake's son and the Bald Eagle's daughter 
 become man and wife, that peace may be found 
 to dwell among the lodges, and the war-hatchet 
 be buried for ever.' " 
 
 " The Beam of the Morning shall become the 
 wife of the Young Pine," was the courteous 
 answer; but stern revenge lay deep hidden be- 
 neath the unmoved brow and passionless lip. 
 
 The fatal day arrived; the Bald Ea^le. with 
 uniimching hand and eye that dropped no 
 
''It 
 
 I 
 
 f i 
 
 216 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 human tear of sorrow for the son of his love, 
 plunged the weapon into his heart with Sp.irtan- 
 like firmness. The fearful feast of human flesh 
 was prepared, and that old chief, pale but un- 
 moved, presided over the ceremonies. The 
 war-dance was danced around the sacrifice, and 
 all went off well, as if no such fearful rite had 
 been enacted : but a fearful retribution w?.^ at 
 hand. The Young Pine sought the tent of the 
 Bald Eagle's daughter that evening, and was 
 received with all due deference, as a son of so 
 great a chief as the Black Snake merited ; he 
 was regarded now as a successful suitor, and 
 intoxicated with the beauty of Ihe Beam of the 
 Morning, pressed her to allow the marriage to 
 take place in a few days. The bride consented, 
 and a day was named for the wedding feas^ to 
 be celebrated, and that due honour might be 
 given to so great an event, invitations were senfc 
 out to the principal families of the Mohawk 
 tribe, and these amounted to several hundreds 
 of souls, while the young Ojebwa hunters were 
 despatched up the river and to different parts of 
 the country, avowee' ly to collect venison, beaver, 
 and other delicacieb to regale their guests, but 
 in reality to summon by means of trusty scouts 
 a large war party from the small lakes, to be in 
 readiness to take part in the deadly revenge 
 that was preparing for their enemies. 
 
 r 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3. 
 
 217 
 
 of his love, 
 /•ith Spnrtan- 
 human flesh 
 pale but un- 
 onies. The 
 sacrifice, and 
 rful rite had 
 )ution w?,s at 
 e tent of the 
 ng, and was 
 ? a son of so 
 merited ; he 
 1 suitor, and 
 Beam of the 
 5 marriage to 
 de consented, 
 Iding feas^ to 
 )ur might be 
 Dns were sent 
 the Mohawk 
 iral hundreds 
 hunters were 
 erent parts of 
 nison, beaver, 
 jir guests, but 
 trusty scouts 
 akes, to be in 
 ladly revenge 
 
 L68. 
 
 Meantime the squaws pitched the nuptial tent, 
 and prepared the bridal ornaments. A large 
 wigwam capable of containing all the expected 
 guests was then constructed, adorned with the 
 thick branches of evergreens so artfully con- 
 trived as to be capable of concealing the armed 
 Ojebwas and their allies, who in t le time were 
 introduced beneath this leafy screei:, armed with 
 the murderous tomahawk and scalping-knife 
 with which to spring upon their defenceless and 
 unsuspecting guests. According to the etiquette 
 always observed upon such occasions, all deadly 
 weapons were left outside the tent. The bride- 
 groom had been conducted with songs and 
 dancing to the tent of the bride. The guests, 
 to the number of several hundred naked and 
 painted warriors, were assembled. The feast 
 was declared to be ready ; a great iron pot or 
 kettle occupied the centre of the tent. Ac- 
 cording to the custom of the Indians, the father 
 of the bridegroom was invited to lift the most 
 important dish from the pot, whilst the warriors' 
 commenced their war-dance around him. This 
 dish was usually a bear's head, which was 
 fastened to a string left for the purpose of raising 
 it from the pot. 
 
 " Let the Black Snake, the great chief of the 
 Mohawks, draw up the head and set it on the 
 table, that bis people may eat and make merry, 
 19 
 
 I 
 
.4P 
 
 I f ! 
 
 21S 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 and that his wise heart may be glad," were the 
 scornful words of the Bald Eagle. 
 
 A yell of horror burst from the lips of the 
 horror-stricken father, as he lifted to view the 
 fresh and gory head of his only son, the happy 
 bridegroom of the lovely daughter of the Ojebwa 
 
 chief. 
 
 " Ha 1" shouted the Bald Eagle, " is the great 
 chief of the Mohawks a squaw, that his blood 
 grows white and his heart trembles at the sight 
 of his son, the bridegroom of the Beam of the 
 Morning? The Bald Eagle gave neither sigh 
 nor groan when he plunged the knife into the 
 heart of his child. Come, brother, take the 
 knife ; taste the flesh and drink the blood of thy 
 son : the Bald Eagle shrank not when you bade 
 him partake of the feast that was prepared from 
 his young warrior's body." 
 
 The wretched father dashed himself upon the 
 earth, while his cries and bowlings rent the air ; 
 those cries were answered by the war-whoop of 
 the ambushed Ojebwas, as they sprang to their 
 feet, and with deafening yells attacked the 
 guests, who, panic-stricken, naked, and defence- 
 less, fell an easy prey to their infuriated enemies. 
 Not one living foe escaped to tell the tale of 
 that fearful marriage feast A second Judith 
 had the Indian girl proved. It was her plighted 
 hand that had severed the head (# her unsua- 
 
THE CANADIAN CBDSOKg. 219 
 
 pecting bridegroom to complete the fearful vea- 
 geanoe that had been devised in return for the 
 meredess and horrible murder of her brother 
 
 Nor v^-as the saoriflee yet finished, for with 
 fearful enes the Indian seized upon the eanoea 
 of their enemies, and with the utmost sp.ed 
 urged by unsatisfied revenge, hurried down'the 
 lake to an island where the women and children 
 and such of the aged or young men ^ were 
 not included among the wedding guests, were 
 encamped m unsuspecting security. Panic- 
 
 ba"tnVl ^^"""""^ ^®'"'' "» distance, 
 but fell like sheep appointed for the slaughter 
 
 tie Ojebwas slew there the grey-head with the 
 
 infant of days. But while the youths and old 
 
 men tamely yielded to their enemies, there was 
 
 of her father, armed herself with the war-club 
 and kmfe, and boldly withstood the successful 
 
 Zrch- Al ": '""' °' *" '^"' "' "^^ ='»S 
 tered chief the Amazon defended her children • 
 
 while the war-lightning kindled in her dark 
 
 eye, she called aloud in scornful tones to her 
 
 people to hide themselves in the tents of thel 
 
 women who alone were Iraves, and would flgh 
 
 their battles. Fiercely she taunted the m!n 
 
 but they shrank from the unequal contest, and 
 
 Aealone was found to deal the death-blow 
 
 "i-u ...8 .oe, tui overpowered with numbers, 
 
 
II 
 
 J( I 
 
 i I 
 
 220 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 and pierced with frightful wounds, she fell sing- 
 ing her own death-song and raising the wail foi 
 the dead who lay around her. Night closed in, 
 but the work of blood still continued, till not a 
 victim was found, and again they went forth on 
 their exterminating work. Lower down they 
 found another encampment, and there also they 
 slew all the inhabitants of the lodges ; they then 
 L-eturned back to the island, to gather together 
 their dead and collect the spoils of their tents. 
 They were weary with the fatigue of the slaugh- 
 ter of that fearful day ; they were tired of blood- 
 shedding; the retribution had satisfied even 
 their love of blood : and when they found, on 
 returning to the spot where the heroine had 
 stood at bay, one young solitary female sitting 
 beside the corpse of that dauntless woman, her 
 mother, they led her away, and ^id all that 
 their savage nature could suggest to soften her 
 anguish and dry her tears. They brought her 
 to°the tents of their women, and clothed and 
 fed her, and bade her be comforted ; but her 
 young heart burned within her, and she refused 
 consolation. She could not forget the wronga 
 of her people : she was the only living creature 
 left of the Mohawks on that island. The young 
 girl was Indiana, the same whom Hector Max- 
 well had found, wounded and bound, to perisb 
 with hunger and thirst on Bare- hill. 
 
THE CANADIAN 0EUSOE3. 221 
 
 Brooding with revenge in her heart the 
 young g,rl told them that she had stolen unper! 
 ce.ved into the tent of the Bald Eagle anl 
 a.n>ed a knife at his throat, but the £bW 
 
 ZT, rrt^ ^' "-"^ "'''"' ^™"g ™-. who hal 
 watched l.er enter the old ehief 's tent. A eoun- 
 C.1 was called, and she was taken to Bare hm 
 bot.d, and left in the sad state alreTd;'^'^ 
 
 It was with feelings of horror and terror that 
 ^e Chnsfan children listened to this fearful 
 tele, and Indiana read in their averted eyes and 
 
 C^Zt 't^f "* ">>'* "^-^ -^lof 
 t w^ tw °.^ ^^'^ ^P'"-^^ *^»- And then 
 
 frees, in the soft misty light of an Indian sum- 
 
 ZZX^' ''''*''"'"^' with simple earnert. 
 Wnl^f ^T^ ^'^'P'^ ""o^ heavenly 
 
 Wns of mercy and forgiveness which her Ee- 
 aeemer had set forth hv 1,;= i,-f„ i,- j . 
 and his death. ^ ^^'- ""^ '^°°*""^ 
 
 Saviours face in heaven, and dwell with him 
 n joy and peace for ever, she must learn to pray 
 for those dreadful men who had made l,er fatlieT 
 less and motherless, and her home n desolation • 
 that the Are of revenge must be quenched witl n 
 her hear^ and the spirit of love done find Zl 
 wi™n „, „r she could not become the child of 
 
m 1! 1 
 I 
 
 
 
 1! 
 
 i 
 
 222 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 God and an inheritor of the kingdom of heavea 
 How hard were these conditions to the young 
 heathen, — how contrary to her nature, to all 
 that she had been taught in the tents of her 
 fathers, where revenge was virtue, and to take 
 the scalp of an enemy a glorious thing ! 
 
 Yet when she contrasted the gentle, kind, and 
 dove-like characters of her Christian friends 
 with the fierce, bloody people of her tribe and 
 of her Ojebwa enemies, she could not but own 
 they were more worthy of love and admiration : 
 had they not found her a poor, miserable, trem- 
 bling captive, unbound her, fed and cherished 
 her, pouring the balm of consolation into her 
 wounded heart, and leading her in bands of 
 tenderest love to forsake those wild and fearful 
 passions that warred in her soul, and bringing 
 her to the feet of the Saviour, to become hia 
 meek and holy child, a lamb of his " extended , 
 fold?"* ^ 
 
 * The Indian who related thU^Wfativo to me was a^son of a 
 Bice Lake chief, Mosang Poudash by name, who vouoh^lsfer 
 its truth na an historic fact remembered by his father, whose 
 grandsire had been one of the actors in the massacre. Mosanjfi,. 
 Poudash promised to write down the legend, and did so, in ' 
 part, but made such confusion between hia imperfect English 
 and Indian language, that the MS. was unavailable for copying. 
 
THB CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 22a 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill." 
 
 Irish Song. 
 
 TTTHILE the Indians were actively pursuing 
 their sports on the lake, shooting wild 
 fowl, and hunting and fishing by torch-light 
 80 exciting was the amusement of watching 
 them, that the two lads, Hector and Louis 
 quite forgot all sense of danger in the enjoy- 
 ment of lying or sitting on the brow of the 
 mount near the great ravine, and looking af 
 their proceedings. Once or twice the lads were 
 near betraying themselves to the Indians by 
 raismg a shout of delight, at some skilful ma- 
 noeuvre that excited their unqualified admiration 
 and, a,pplause. 
 
 V :it'bight, when the canoes had all retired to 
 the camp on the north shore, and all fear of 
 detection had ceased for the time, they lighted 
 up their shanty fire, and cooked a good sup- 
 per, and also prepared sufficiency of food for the 
 following day. The Indians remained for a 
 fortnight; at the end of that time Indiana who 
 ^^aa a watchful spy on their movements.' told 
 succor ana i^ouis that the camp was broken up 
 
224 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 ! i; 
 
 fprf 
 
 111 
 
 and that the Indians had gone up the river, and 
 would not return again for some weeks. The 
 departure ot the Indians was a matter of great 
 rejoicing to Catharine, whose dread of these 
 savages had greatly increased since she had 
 been made acquainted with the fearful deeds 
 which Indiana had described ; and what reliance 
 could sho^'feel in people who regarded deeds 
 of blood and vengeance as acts of virtuous 
 heroism ? 
 
 Once, and only once during their stay, the 
 Indians had passed within a short distance of 
 their dwelling ; but they ^vere in full chase of a 
 bear, which had been seen crossing the deep ra- 
 ' vine near Mount Ararat, and they had been too 
 intent upon their game to notice the shanty, or 
 had taken it for the shelter of some trapper if it 
 had been seen, for they never turned out of their 
 path, and Catharine, who was alone at the time, 
 drawing water from the spring, was so com- 
 pletely concealed by the high bank above her, 
 that she had quite escaped their notice. For- 
 tunately, Indiana gave the two boj'-s a signal to 
 conceal themselves when she saw them enter 
 the ravine; and effectually hidden among the 
 thick grey mossy trunks of the cedars at the 
 lake shore, they remained secure from molesta- 
 tion, while the Indian girl dropped noiselessly 
 down amonsL the tangled thicket of wild vines 
 
THE CANADIAN CflUSOES. 225 
 
 and brushwood, which she drew cautiously over 
 
 her and closed her eyes, lest, as she naively re. 
 
 marked their glitter should, be seen and betray 
 
 ner to her enemies. "^ 
 
 It was a moment of intense anxiety to our 
 
 poor wanderers, whose terrors were more excited 
 
 on behalf of the young Mohawk than for- them- 
 
 selves, and they congratulated her on fe escape 
 
 with affectionate warmth. 
 
 " Are my white brothers afraid to die ?" waa 
 
 he young sqnaw's half-scornful reply. " Indiana 
 
 ^^the daughter of a brave: she fears not to 
 
 The latter end of September and the first 
 CO d 1,°'*^^' ^^'^ been stormy and even 
 
 over, the nights were often illuminated by the 
 Aurora borealis, which might be seen forming 
 
 iTkc to th "" -'"'i"^^'^ •'"8'"-- -- *f • 
 
 he L °°"? "-'' °°"'>-^='«'ern portions of 
 
 the homon, or shooting upwards, in ever-varv- 
 .ngshafts of greenish light, now hiding, now re- 
 vealing the .,tars, which shone with softlned' 
 radiance through the .ilvery veil that dimmed 
 
 ^eXer h ''• ^°'"'*'"" '"' -"^^ "■§'>'» to- 
 gether the same appearance might be seen a ,d. A 
 
 was ,^„,„y the forerunner of 'fros^wea'the^^ 
 
 though occasionally it was the precn^r of cold 
 
 Winds anrl h^a^r^ »„,-^- ^ ^ *""^^ 
 
 'H 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 The Indian girl regarded it with superstitioua 
 feelings, but whether as an omen for good or ill, 
 she would not tell. On all matters connected 
 with her religious notions she was shy and re- 
 served, though occasionally she unconsciously 
 revealed them. Thus the warnings of death or 
 misfortunes were revealed to her by certain omi- 
 nous sounds in the woods, the appearance of 
 strange birds or animals, or the moaniugs of 
 others. The screeching of the owl, i e bleating 
 of the doe, or barking of the fox, were evil au- 
 guries, while the flight of the eagle and the 
 croaking of the raven were omens of good. She 
 put faith in dreams, and would foretell good or 
 evil fortune from them; she could read the 
 morning and evening clouds, and kne^ from vari- 
 ous appearances of the sky, or the coming or de- 
 parting of certain birds or insects, changes in the 
 atmosphere. Her ear was quick in distinguish- 
 ing the changet in the voices of the birds or ani- 
 mals ; she knew the times of their coming and 
 going, and her eye was quick to see as her ear to 
 detect sounds. Her voice was soft, and low, and 
 plaintive, and she delighted in imitating the little 
 ballads or hymns that Catharine sung ; though 
 she knew nothing of their meaning, she would 
 catch the tunes, and sing the song with Catha- 
 rine, touching the hearts of her delighted audi 
 tors by the melody and pathos of her voice. 
 
THE CA.NADIAN CRUSOES. 227 
 
 tmts of ,t, changing woods on shore and iafand 
 
 by a soft, sighmg wind, which rustled the dvL» 
 foliage as it swept by. ^ ^T 
 
 The Indian summer is the harvest of th. 
 Indian tribes It is during this selTLuhe: 
 hant and shoot the wild fowl ft,.. ? 
 
 their annual flights to visit I wat.Tth: 
 
 ~V5'and^flra:dr 'ZTT 
 
 altered not^heirtsUtrrrhT' 
 fathers, so it was with them *"" 
 
 Loms had heard so much of ti,<, n. ,. 
 
 and explore the entrance, and the shores of th! 
 lake ou that side, which hitherto thev had !ot 
 ventured to do, for fear of V, • ^ °' 
 
 the Indian. " o ! ^^'"S surprised by 
 Indiat^. Some fine day," said I^ais, « we 
 
H 'I 
 
 228 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 I ! 
 
 will go out in the canoe, explore the distant 
 islands, and go up the river a little way." 
 
 Hector advised visiting all the islands by 
 turns, beginning at the little islet which looks 
 in the distance like a boat in full sail ; it is level 
 with the water, and has only three or four trees 
 upon it. The name they had given to it was 
 " Ship Island." The Indians have some name 
 for it which I have forgotten ; but it means, I 
 have been told, " Witch Island." Hector's plan 
 met with general approbation, and they resolved 
 to take provisions with them for several days, and 
 visit the islands and go up the river, passing the 
 night under the shelter of the thick trees on the 
 shore wherever they found a pleasant halting- 
 place. 
 
 The weather was mild and warm, the lake 
 was as clear and calm as a mirror, and in joyous 
 mood our little party embarked and paddled up 
 the lake, first to Ship Island — but this did not 
 detain them many minutes. They then went to 
 Grape Island, which they so named ft*om the 
 abundance of wild vines, now rich with purple 
 clusters of the ripe grapes, — tart, but still not to 
 be despised by our young adventurers; and 
 they brought away a large birch basket heaped 
 up with the jfruit. " Ah, if we had but a good 
 cake of maple sugar, now, to preserve our 
 
THE CANAUIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 229 
 
 grapes with, and make such grape jelly as mv 
 
 mother makes I" said Louis. ^ "^ '' "^ "^^ 
 
 " If we find out a sugar-bush we will mana^re 
 
 to make plenty of sugar," said Catharine: 
 
 there are maples not two hundred yards from 
 
 he shanty, near the side of the steep bank to 
 
 the east. You remember the pleasant spot // 
 
 vvhich we named the Happy Valley,* where the f 
 
 bright creek runs, dancing along so merrilyr be^' 
 
 low the pine-ridge ?" 
 
 " 0|?'/es ; the same that winds along near the 
 foot of Bare-iiill, where the water-cresses grow " 
 
 .u f ' T,^^'^ ^ S^*^^""^ *^« milk-weed the 
 other day." 
 
 " What a beautiful pasture-field that will 
 make, when it is cleared I" said Hector, thought- 
 
 " Hector is always planning about fields, and 
 clearing great farms," said Louis, laughing. 
 
 days ; I think he has in his own mind brushed 
 and burned, and logged up all the fine flats and 
 table-land on the plains before now, ay, and ^ 
 cropped It all with wheat, and peas, a;id Indian 
 
 " We will have a clearing and a nice field of 
 
 y 
 
 * A lovely valley to the east of Mount Ararat, , 
 ing to ajvorthy and industrious familv of th« ..L 
 *w.sn u..^r oo^d sae it aa it now iB,'-* cuItiv-^^eTfenilTf;;^- \ 
 
 , now belong- 1 
 
il ■■i 
 
 % 
 
 IJ I 
 
 2S0 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 corn next year, if vre live," replied Hector; 
 " that corn that we found in the canoe will be a 
 treasure." 
 
 " Yes, and the corn-cob you gci on Bare-hill," 
 said Catharine. " How lucky we have been ! 
 We shall be so happy when we see our little 
 field of corn flourishing round the shanty 1 It 
 was a good thing, Hec, that you went to the 
 Indian camp that day, though both Louis and I 
 were very miserable while you were absent ; but 
 yon see God must have directed you, that the 
 life of this poor girl might be saved, to be a 
 comfort to us. Every thing has prospered well 
 with us since she came to us. Perhaps it is 
 because we try to make a Christian of her, and 
 so God blesses all our endeavours." 
 
 " We are told," said Hector, " that there is 
 joy with the angels of God over one sinner that 
 repenteth ; doubtless it is a joyful thing when 
 the heathen that knew not the name of God 
 'are taught to glorify his holy name." 
 
 Indiana, while exploring, had captured a por- 
 cupine ; she declared that she should have plenty 
 of quills for edging baskets and mocassins; 
 besides, she said, the meat was white and good 
 to eat. Hector looked with a suspicious eye 
 upon the little animal, doubting the propriety 
 of eating its flesh, though he had learned to eat 
 
 jnUSK-'TatS. n.nri nnna\Aav fT-ionn nnnA maof Vtolr'/ul 
 
 •^^ ; — — — —•^•^—~~^,, _...^j.,, ^.^.._..^ Jii-^'iSlfj s."«a,w%6 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 281 
 
 in Louis's Indian oven, or roasted on a forked 
 stick, before the fire. The Indian porcupine is 
 a small animal, not a very great deal larger than 
 the common British hedgehog ; the quills, how- 
 ever, are longer and stronger, and varied with' 
 alternate clouded marks of pure white and 
 dark brownish grey ; they are minutely barbed, 
 so that if one enters the flesh it is with difficulty 
 extracted, but will work through of itself in an 
 opposite direction, and can then be easily pulled 
 out. Dogs and cattle often suffer great incon- 
 venience from getting their muzzles filled with 
 the quills of the porcupine, the former when 
 worrying the poor little animal, and the latter 
 by accidentally meeting a dead one among the 
 herbage; great inflammation will sometimes 
 attend the extraction. Indians often lose val- 
 uable hounds from this cause. Beside porcu- 
 pines, Indiana told her companions, there were 
 some fine butter-nut trees on the island, and 
 they could collect a bag full in a very short 
 time. This was good news, for the butter-nut is 
 sweet and pleasant, almost equal to the walnut, 
 of which it is a species. 
 
 The day was passed pleasantly enough in col- 
 lecting nuts and grapes ; but as this island did 
 not afford any good cleared spot for passing the 
 night, and, moreover, was tenanted by black 
 J .„^ . .^. „i „4 ^ ^.y^j uxMiii ineiT appearaiiutf 
 
232 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 
 among the stones near the* edge of the water, 
 they agreed by common council to go to Long 
 Island, where Indiana said there was an old 
 log-house, the walls of which were still stand- 
 ing, and where there was dry moss in plenty, 
 which would make them a comfortable bed for 
 the night. This old log-house she said had 
 been built, she heard the Indians say, by a 
 French Canadian trapper, who used to visit the 
 lake some years ago ; he was on friendly terms 
 with the chiefs, who allowed him many privi- 
 leges, and he bought their furs, and took them 
 down the lake, through the river Trent, to some 
 station-house on the great lake. They found 
 they should have time enough to land and de- 
 posit their nuts and grapes and paddle to Long 
 Island before sunset. Upon the western part 
 of this fine island they had several times landed 
 and passed some lours, exploring its shores; 
 but Indiana told them, to reach the old log-house 
 they must enter the low swampy bay to the east, 
 at an opening which she ca'ied Indian Cove. 
 To do this required some skill in the manage- 
 ment of the canoe, which was rather over-loaded 
 for so light a vessel ; and the trees grew so close 
 and thick that they had some difficiiU;y in push- 
 ing their way through them without injuring 
 its frail sides. These trees or bushes were 
 cbieuy black elder, high-bush cranDerneo, aog- 
 
ill 
 
 k 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 233 
 
 wood, willows, and, as they proceeded further, 
 and there was ground of a more solid nature, 
 cedar, poplar, swamp oak, and soft maple, with 
 silver birch and wild cnerries. Long strings of 
 silvery-grey tree-moss hung dangling over dieir 
 heads, the bark and roots of the birch and 
 cedars were covered with a luxuriant growth of 
 green moss, but there was a dampness an J close- 
 ness in this place that made it for from whole- 
 some, and the little band of voyagers were not 
 very sorry when the water became too shallow 
 to admit of the canoe making its way through 
 the swampy channel, and they landed on the 
 banks of a small circular pond, as round as a 
 ring, and nearly surrounded by tall trees, hoary 
 with moss and lichens -e water-lilies floated 
 
 on the surface of .... miniature lake, and the 
 brilliant red berries of the high-bush cranberry 
 and the purple clusters of grapes festooned the 
 trees. 
 
 "A famous breeding-place this must be for 
 ducks," observed Louis. 
 
 " Aiid for flowers," said Catharine, " and for 
 grapes and cranberries. There is always some 
 beauty or some usefulness to be found, however 
 lonely the spot." 
 
 " A fine place for musk-rats, and minks, and 
 fishes," said Hector, looking round. " The old 
 traiiper knew what he was about when he made 
 
 20* 
 
■ ..a.,^..^..!,...-^.^^ 
 
 I ^ 
 
 f ill 'i 
 
 284 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRU30ES. 
 
 his lodge near this pond. And there, 8ure 
 enough, is the log-hut, and not so bad a one 
 either ;" and scrambling up the bank he entered 
 the deserted little tenement, well pleased to find 
 it in tolerable repair. There were the ashes on 
 the stone-hearth, just as it had been left years 
 back by the old trapper ; some rough-hewu 
 shelves ; a rude bedstead of cedar-poles still oc- 
 cupied a corner of the little dwelling ; heaps 
 of old dry moss and grass lay upon the ground ; 
 and the little squaw pointed with one of her 
 silent laughs to a collection of broken egg- 
 shells, where some wild duck had sat and 
 hatched her downy brood among the soft mate- 
 rials which she had found and appropriated to 
 her own purpose. The only things pertaining 
 to the former possessor of the log-hut were an 
 old, rusty, battered tin pannikin, now, alas! 
 unfit for holding water ; a bit of a broken 
 earthen whisky jar ; a rusty nail, which Louia 
 pounced upon, and pocketed, or rather pouched, 
 — for he had substituted a fine pouch of deer- 
 skin for his worn-out pocket; and a fishing- 
 line of good stout cord, which was wound on a 
 splinter of red cedar, and carefully stuck between 
 one of the rafters and the roof of the shanty. 
 A rusty but efficient hook was attached to the 
 line, and Louis, who was the finder, was quite 
 overjoyed at his good fortune in making so 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 285 
 
 valuable an addition to his fishing-tackle. Hec- 
 tor got only an odd worn-out mocassin, which 
 he chucked into the little pond in disdain; 
 while Catharine declared she would keep the 
 old tin pot as a relic, and carefully deposited it 
 in the canoe. 
 
 As they made their way into the interior of 
 the island, they found that there were a great 
 many fine sugar maples which had been tapped 
 by some one, as the boys thought, by the old 
 trapper; but Indiana, on examining the inci- 
 sions in the trees, and the remnants of birch- 
 bark vessels that lay mouldering on the earth 
 below them, declared them to have been the 
 work of her own people ; and long and sadly 
 did the young girl look upon these simple 
 memorials of a race of whom she was the last 
 living remnant. The young girl stood there in 
 melancholy mood, a solitary, isolated being, 
 with no kindred tie upon the earth to make 
 life dear to her; a stranger in the land of her 
 fathers, associating with those whose ways were 
 not her ways, nor their thoughts her thoughts ; 
 whose language was scarcely known to her' 
 whose God was not the God of her fathers! 
 Yet the dark eyes of the Indian girl were not 
 dimmed with tears as she thought of these 
 things ; she had learned of her people to suffer, 
 and be still. 
 
236 
 
 THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 Silent and patient she stood, with her melan- 
 choly gaze bent on the earth, when she felt the 
 gentle hand of Catharine laid upon her arm, 
 and then kindly and loviugly passed round her 
 neck, as she whispered, — 
 
 "Indiana, I will be to you as a sister, and 
 will love you and cherish you, because you are 
 an orphan girl, and alone in the world ; but 
 God loves you, and will make you happy. He 
 is a Father to the fatherless, and the Friend of 
 the destitute, and to them that have no helper." 
 
 The words of kindness and love need no in- 
 terpretation ; no book-learning is necessary to 
 make them understood. The young, the old, 
 the deaf, the dumb, the blind, can read this uni- 
 versal language ; its very silence is often more 
 eloquent than words — the gentle pressure of the 
 hand, the half-echoed sigh, the look of sympathy 
 will penetrate to the very heart, and unlock its 
 hidden stores of human tenderness and love. 
 The rock is smitten, and the waters gush forth, 
 a bright and living stream, to refresh and fer- 
 tilize the thirsty soul. 
 
 The heart of the poor mourner was touched : 
 she bowed down her head upon the hand that 
 held her so kindly in its sisterly grasp, and wept 
 Boft sweet human tears full of grateful love, 
 while she whispered, in her own low plaintive 
 voice, " My white sister, I kiss you in my 
 
 I I 
 
THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 237 
 
 heart ; I will love the God of my white bro- 
 thers, and be his child." 
 
 The two friends now busied themselves in 
 preparing the evening meal : they found Louis 
 and Hector had lighted up a charming blaze on 
 the desolate hearth. A few branches of cedar 
 twisted together by Catharine, made a service- 
 able broom, with which she swept the floor, 
 giving to the deserted dwelling a neat and com- 
 fortable asi^-ct ; some big stones were quickly 
 rolled i.nd made to answer for seats in the 
 chim ; v^orner. The new-found fishing-line 
 was soon put into requisition by Louis, and 
 with very little delay, a fine dish of black bass, 
 broiled on the coals, was added to their store 
 of dried venison and roasted bread-roots, which 
 they found in abundance on a low spot on the 
 island. Grapes and butternuts, which Hector 
 cracked with stones by waj' of nut-crackers, 
 finished their sylvan meal. The boys stretched 
 themselves to sleep on the ground, with their 
 feet, Indian fashion, to the fire ; while the two 
 girls occupied the mossy couch which they had 
 newly spread with fragrant cedar and hemlock 
 boughs. 
 
 The next island that claimed their attention 
 was Sugar-Maple Island,* a fine, thickly-wooded 
 
 * Sugar Island, a oharmiiiff object from the pioturQ%ons 
 eottage of Alfred Hay ward, Esq. 
 
 U~ 
 
238 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 Ii tl 
 
 island, rising with steep rocky banks from the' 
 water. A beautiful object, but too densely 
 wooded to admit of our party penetrating be- 
 yond a few yards of its shores. 
 
 The next island they named the Beaver,* 
 from its resemblance in shape to that animal. 
 >^ A fine, high, oval island beyond this they named 
 Black Island,t from its dark evergreens ; the 
 next was that which seemed most to excite the 
 interest of their Indian guide, although but a 
 small stony island, scantily clothed with trees, 
 lower down the lake. This place she called 
 Spooke Island,:}: which means in the Indian 
 tongue, a place for the dead ; it is sometimes 
 called Spirit Island, and here, in times past, 
 used the Indian people to bury their dead. The 
 island is now often the resort of parties of plea- 
 
 * The Beaver, commonly called Sheep I*l«nd, from some 
 person having pastured a few sheep upon it some few years ago. 
 I I^have taken the liberty of preserving the name, to which it 
 I bears aTi obvious resembhmoe ; the nose of the Beaver lies to- 
 I wards the west, the tail to the east. This island is nearly 
 / opposite to Gore's Landing, and forms a pleasing object from 
 the windows and verandah of Clavertou, the house of my 
 esteemed friond, William Falkner, Esq., the Patriarch of the 
 Plains, as ho has often been termed ; one of the only resideuta 
 on the Rice Lake plains for many years ; ouo of the few gentle- 
 ^ men who have taste enough to bo charmed with this lovely 
 tract of country, and to appieciate its agricultural resources, 
 I which, of late, have been so fully developed. 
 I t Black Island, the sixth from the head of the lake; an o?al 
 llsUnd, remarkable for its evergreouB. 
 O. t Appendix H. 
 
 1 ,i^t. : 
 
m 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. £39 
 
 ^e, who, from its being grassy and open, find 
 It more available than those which are densely 
 wooded. The young Mohawk regarded it with 
 feelings of superstitious awe, and would not 
 
 stoTes ' *° ^^""^ *^' '^''''^^ ^" '^ "'^"^^ 
 
 "It is a place of spirits," she said; "the 
 ghosts^ of mj fathers will be angry if we go 
 tnere. ii.ven her young companions felt that 
 they were upon sacred ground, and gazed with 
 silent reverence upon the burial isle. 
 
 Strongly imbued with a love of the marvel- 
 ous, which they had derived from their High- 
 land origin, Indiana's respect for the spirits of 
 her ancestors was regarded as most natural, and 
 in silence, as if fearing to disturb the solemnity 
 of the spot, they resumed their paddles, and 
 • after a while reached the mouth of the river 
 Otonabee, which was divided into two separate 
 channels by a long, low point of swampy land 
 covered with stunted, mossy bushes and trees, 
 rushes, dnft-wood, and aquatic plants. Indi- 
 ana told them this river flowed from the north, 
 and that it was many days' journey up to the 
 lakes ; to illustrate its course, she drew with her 
 paddle a long line with sundry curves and 
 broader spaces, some longer, some smaller, with 
 bays and inlets, which she gave them to under- 
 
 stand "oraa «-U-^ »U>:« -.P 1-1_ .1 . , 
 
 B-A_u r,^ ,^.j -^liaui ui iuii.es mat siie spoke ot; 
 
240 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 There were beautiful hunting-grounJs on the 
 borders of these lakes, and many fine waterfalls 
 and rocky islands; she had been taken up to 
 these waters during the time of her captivity. 
 The Ojebwas, she said, were a branch of the 
 great Chippewa nation, who owned much land 
 and great waters thereabouts. 
 
 Compared with the creeks and streams that 
 they had seen hitherto, the Otonabee appeared a 
 majestic river, and an object of great admiration 
 and curiosity, for it seemed to them as if it v/ere 
 the high road leading up to an unknown far-off 
 land — a land of dark, mysterious, impenetrable 
 forests, — flowing on, flowing on, in lonely ma- 
 jesty, reflecting on its tranquil bosom the blue 
 sky, the dark pines, and grey cedars, — the pure 
 ivory water-lily, and every passing shadow of 
 bird or leaf that flitted across its surface — so 
 quiet was the onward flow of its waters. 
 
 A few brilhant leaves yet lingered on the soft 
 maples and crimson-tinted oaks, but the glory 
 of the forest had departed ; the silent fall of many 
 a sear and yellow leaf told of the death of sum- 
 mer and of winter's coming reign. Yet the air 
 was wrapt in a deceitful stillness ; no breath of 
 wind moved he trees or dimpled the water. 
 Bright wreaths of scarlet berries and wild grapes 
 hung in festoons among the faded foliage. The 
 silence of the fore-st was unbroken, save hv *'^'» 
 
THE OAN-ADIAIir CRUSOES. 
 
 241 
 
 quick tapping of the little midland woodpecker, 
 or the shrill scream of the blue jay ; the whirring 
 sound of the large white and grey duck, (called 
 by the frequenters of these lonely waters the 
 whistlewing,) as its wings swept the waters in 
 its flight, or the light dripping of the paddle, 
 so still, so quiet was the scene. 
 
 As the day was now far advanced, the Indian 
 gu-1 advised them either to encamp for the night 
 on the river bank, or to use all speed in return- 
 ing. She seemed to view the aspects of the hea- 
 vens with some anxiety. Vast volumes of light 
 copper-tinted clouds were rising, the sun seen 
 through its hazy veil looked red and dim, and a 
 hot sultry air unrelieved by a breath of refresh- 
 ing wind oppressed our young voyagers ; and 
 though the same coppery clouds and red sun had 
 been seen for several successive days, a sort of 
 instinctive feeling prompted the desire in all to 
 return; and after a few minutes' rest and re- 
 freshment, they turned their little bark towards 
 the lake ; and it was weil that they did so ; by 
 the time they had reached the middle of the lake, 
 the stillness of the air was rapidly changing. 
 The rose-tinted clouds that had lain 30 long 
 piled upon each other in mountainous ridges, 
 began to move upwards, at first slowly, then 
 with rapidly accelerated motion. There was a 
 moaning in the p 
 
 21 
 
 tops, and by 
 
 
ma 
 
 242 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 gusty breeze swept the surface of the water, 
 raising it into rough, short, white-crested ridges. 
 These signs were pointed out by Indiana as 
 the harbinger of a rising hurricane : and now a 
 swift spark of light like a falling star glanced on 
 the water, as if there to quench its fiery light. 
 Again the Indian girl rawed her dark hand and 
 pointed to the rolling storm-clouds, to the crested 
 waters, and the moving pine tops ; then to the 
 head of the Beaver Island — it was the one 
 nearest to them. With an arm of energy she 
 wielded the paddle, with an eye of fire she 
 directed the course of their little vessel, for well 
 she knew their danger and the need for strain- 
 ing every nerve to reach the nearest point of 
 land. Low muttering peals of thunder were 
 now heard, the wind was rising with electric 
 speed. Away flew the light bark, with the 
 swiftness of a bird, over the water ; the tempest 
 was above, around, and beneath. The hollow 
 crash of the forest trees as they bowed to the 
 earth could be heard, sullenly sounding from 
 shore to shore. And now the Indian girl, fling- 
 ing back her black streaming hair from her 
 brow, knelt at the head of the canoe, and with 
 renewed vigour plied the paddle. The waters, 
 lashed into a state of turbulence by the violence 
 of the storm, lifted the canoe up and down, but 
 no word was spoken — they each felt the great* 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 248 
 
 ness of the peril, but thoy also knew that they 
 were :o the hands of Him who can say to the 
 
 ^b7Hil^' ''^^^'' "■^''''' ^' '^"^'" ^^^ t^ey 
 
 ^Jand, to reach the mainland was impossible, 
 for the ram poured down a blinding deluge • it 
 was wuh difficulty the little craft waf kept Soa^ 
 by baihng out the water; to do this, Louis was 
 tain use his cap, and Catharine assisted with 
 the old tm pot which she had fortunately brought 
 from the trapper's shanty. ^ 
 
 r/^/T^"'* ^"^ ^* '^ ^^'S^^ ^i^en they 
 reached the nearest point of the Beaver, and 
 joyful was the grating sound of the canoe as it 
 was vigorously pushed up on the shingly beach 
 beneath the friendly shelter of the overhanging 
 trees, where, perfectly exhausted by the exertion! 
 they had made, dripping with rain, and over- 
 powered by the terrors of the storm, they threw 
 hemselves on the ground, and in safety watched 
 Its progress-thankful for an escape from such 
 imminent peril. 
 
 Thus ended the Indian summer-so deceitful 
 in Its calmness and its beauty. The next day 
 saw the ground white with snow, and hardened 
 into stone by a premature frost. Our poor 
 voyagers were not long in quitting the shelter of 
 ^^"' i-«"u, iiuu Detailing them once more 
 
 I 
 
244 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 to their ark of refuge — the log-house on Mount 
 Ararat. 
 
 The winter, that year, set in with unusual 
 severity some weeks sooner than usual, so that 
 from the begining of November to the middle 
 of April the snow never entirely left the ground. 
 The lake was soon covered with ice, and by the 
 month of December it was one compact solid 
 sheet from shore to shore. 
 
 w 
 
 .tMiij 
 
 mw.\ 
 
IHK CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 245 
 
 ':l 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Snored oy the rod and noiay light."-Coi,EBiDO«. 
 
 JTECTOR and Louis had now little employ, 
 ment, excepting chopping fire-wood, which 
 was no very arduous task for two stout healthy 
 lads, used from childhood to handling the axe. 
 Trapping, and hunting, and snaring hares, wefe 
 occupations which they pursued more for the ex- 
 citement and exercise than from hunger, as 
 they had laid by abundence of dried venison 
 fish, and birds, besides a plentiful store of rice! 
 They now visited those trees that they had 
 marked in the summer, where they had noticed 
 the bees hiving, and cut them down ; in one they 
 got more than a pailful of rich honey-comb, and 
 others yielded some more, some less ; this afforded 
 them a delicious addition to their boiled rice, and 
 dried acid fruits. They might have melted the 
 vrax, and burned candles of it; but this was a 
 'efinement of luxury that never once occurred to 
 our young housekeepers : the dry pine knots that 
 are found m the woods are the settlers' candles ; 
 but Catharine made some very good vinegar 
 fv'ith the refuse of the honey anci combs, "by 
 
 
Iglggll, 
 
 246 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 ■I n 
 
 I I, h 
 
 pouring water on it, and leaving it to ferment 
 in a warm aook of the chimney, in one of the 
 birch-bark vessels, and this was an excellent 
 substitute for salt as a seasoning to the fresh 
 meat and fish. Like the Indians, they were now 
 reconciled to the want of this seasonable article. 
 Indiana seemed to enjoy the cold weather ; 
 the lake, though locked up to every one else, 
 was open to her ; with the aid of the t< mahawk 
 she patiently made an opening in the ice, and 
 over this she built a little shelter of pine boughs 
 Btuck into the ice. Armed with a sharp spear 
 carved out of hardened wood, she would lie upon 
 the ice and patiently await the rising of some 
 large fish to the air-hole, when dexterously 
 plunging it into the unwary creature, she dragged 
 it to the surface. Many a noble fish did the 
 young squaw bring home, and cast at the feet 
 of him whom she had tacitly elected aa her lord 
 and master; to him she offered the voluataiy 
 service of a faithful and devoted servant—I 
 might almost have said, slave. 
 
 During the middle of December there were 
 some days of such intense cold, that even our 
 young Crusoes, hardy as they were, preferred 
 the blazing log-fire and warm ingle nook, to the 
 frozen lake and cutting north-west wind which 
 blew the loose snow in blinding drifts over its 
 bleak, unsheltered surface. Clad in the warm 
 
"^^n 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 24? 
 
 tunic and petticoat of Indian blanket with fur- 
 
 lined mocassins, Catliarine and her Indian friend 
 
 felt little cold excepting to the face when they 
 
 went abroad, unless the wind was high, and then 
 
 experience taught them to keep at home. And 
 
 these cold gloomy days they employed in many 
 
 useful works. Indiana liad . ucceeded in dyeing 
 
 the quills ofthe porci^ )ino tha* she had captured 
 
 on Grape Island; witi i sese i^j.Q worked a pair 
 
 of beautiful mocassins . d i.a arrow case for 
 
 Hector, besides making a sheath for liouis's 
 
 couteau-du-chasse, of which the young hunter 
 
 was very proud, bestowing great praise on the 
 
 workmanship. 
 
 Indiana appeared to be deeply engrossed with 
 some work that she was engaged in, but pre- 
 served a provoking degree of mystery about it, 
 to the no small annoyance of Louis, who, among 
 his other traits of character, was remarkably in- 
 quisitive, wanting to know the why and where- 
 fore of every thing he saw. 
 
 Indiana first prepared a frame of some ugh 
 wood, it might be the inner bark of the oak or 
 elm or hickory ; this was pointed at either end, 
 and wide in the middle— not very much unlike 
 the form of some broad, flat fish; over this she 
 wove an open network ofnarrow thongs of deer- 
 hide, wetted to make it more pliable, and se- 
 curciy rastened to the frame; when dry, it 
 
 \ 
 
iiaiMMMiliWatti 
 
 248 
 
 THE CAXADIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 •1 
 
 «4v j 
 
 became quite tight, and resembled a sort of 
 coarse bamboo-work such as jou see on cane- 
 bottomed chairs and sofas. 
 
 "And now, Indiana, tell us what sort of fish 
 you are going to catch in your ingenious little 
 net," said Louis, who had watched her pro- 
 ceedings with great interest. The girl shook 
 her head, and laughed till she showed all her 
 white teeth, but quietly proceeded to commence 
 a second frame like the first. 
 
 Louis put it on his head. No : it could not 
 be meant to be worn there, that was plain. He 
 turned it round and round. It must be intended 
 for some kind of bird-trap ; yes, that must be 
 it ; and he cast an inquiring glance at Indiana. 
 She blushed, -hook her head, and gave another 
 of her silent laughs. 
 
 "Some game like battledore and shuttle- 
 cock,"— and snatching up a light bass-wood chip, 
 he began tossing the chip up and catching it on 
 the netted frame. The little squaw was highly 
 amused, but rapidly went on with her work. 
 Louis was now almost angry at the perverse 
 little savage persevering in keeping him in 
 suspense. She v )uld not tell him till the other 
 was done ; then there were to be a pair of these 
 curious articles: and he was forced at last, to 
 sit qr^^tly down to watch the proceeding of the 
 work. It was niarht before th« two warA nnrn 
 
I 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 249 
 
 pleted, and furnished with straps and loops. 
 When the last stroke was put to them, the 
 Indian girl knelt down at Hector's feet, and 
 binding them on, pointed to them with a jovous 
 laugh, and said, " Snow-shoe— for walk on snow 
 —good!" ^^. 
 
 The boys had heard of snow-shoes, but had 
 never seen them, and now seemed to understand 
 little of the benefit to be derived from tne us© 
 of them. The young Mohawk quickly trans- 
 ferred the snow-shoes to her own feet, and soon 
 proved to them that the broad surface prevented 
 those who wore them from sinking into the deep 
 snow. After many trials Hector began to ac- 
 knowledge the advantage of walking with tho 
 snow-shoes, especially on the frozen snow on 
 the ice-covered lake. Indiana was well pleased 
 with the approbation chat her manufactures met 
 with, and very soon manufactured for " Nee- 
 chee," as they all now called Louis, a similar 
 present. As to Catharine, she declared the 
 snow-shoes made her ankles ache, and that she 
 preferred the mocassins that her cousin Louis 
 made for her. 
 
 During the long bright days of February 
 they made several excursions on the lake, and 
 likewise explored some of the high hills to the 
 eastward. On this ridoffi thprA wpro fa^xr u^n,/, 
 trees; but it was thickly clothed with scrub 
 
 ri 
 
 i 
 
260 
 
 THE CANAlylAN CRUSOES. 
 
 m 
 
 1 
 
 oaks, slender poplars, and here and there fine 
 jpinea, and picturesque free-growing oaks of 
 Lconsiderable size and great age— patriarchs, they 
 V,Tiight be termed, among the forest growth.* 
 Over this romantic range of hill and dale, free 
 ( as the air they breathed, roamed many a gallant 
 ^ herd of deer, unmolested unless during certain 
 ^ seasons when the Indians came to hunt over 
 ^ tb-se hills. Surprised at the different growth 
 of the oaks on this side the plains, Feetor could 
 not help expressing his astonishment to Indiana, 
 who told him that it was caused by the custom 
 that her people had had from time immemorial 
 of setting fire to the bushes in the early part of 
 spring. This practice, she said, promoted the 
 growth of the deer-grass, made good cover fop 
 the deer themselves, and effectually prevented 
 the increase of the large timbers. This circum- 
 stance gives a singular aspect to this high ridge 
 of hills when contrasted with the more wooded 
 portions to the westward. From the lake these 
 eastern hills look verdant, and as if covered with 
 tall green fern. In the month of October a rich 
 rosy tint is cast upon the leaves of the scrub 
 oaks by the uutumnal frosts, and they present a 
 glowing unva,ried crimson of the most glorious 
 
 * One of these hcary monarchs of the Oak-hills still «tanda 
 at the head of the lawn at Oaklands, formerly the property of 
 
 Sir. W, F-iIlrnAr nO"' ♦»"> r— :J ^ »■ • r r J «• 
 
' I '-^^ 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 aai 
 
 hue, oaij variegated in spots by a da-k featbery 
 evergreen, or a patch of light v/aving poplars 
 turnec by the same wizard's wand to golden 
 yellow. 
 
 There were many lovely sp s,~lofty rounded 
 hills, and deep shady dells, with extended table- 
 land and iine lake views; but on the whole 
 our young folks preferred the oak openings and 
 the beautiful wooded glens of the western side, 
 where they had fixed their houie. 
 
 There was one amusement that they used 
 greatly to enjoy during the cold bright days and 
 moonlight nights of midwinter. This was gli- 
 ding down the frozen snow on the steep side of 
 the dell near the spring, seated on small hand- 
 sleighs, which carried th«-m down with great 
 velocity. Wrapped in their warm furs, with 
 caps fastened closely over their ears, what cared 
 they for the cold ? Warm and glowing from 
 head to foot, with cheeks brightened by the 
 delightful exercise, they would remain for h©ura 
 enjoying the amusement of the snov^ -slide; the 
 bright frost gemming the ground with myriads 
 of diamonds, sparkling in their hair, or whitening 
 it till it rivalled the snow beneath their feet. 
 Then, when tired out with the exercise, they 
 returned to the shanty, stirred up a blazing fire, 
 till the smoked rafters glowed in the red light • 
 spread their simple fare of stewed rice sweet 
 
262 THK CANADIAN CRL'SOES. 
 
 ened with honey, or maybe a savoury soup of 
 
 and fed, they tneeled together, side by side, and 
 offered up a prayer of gratitude to their M^ker 
 and besought h.s care over them during the 
 dark and silent hours of night. 
 
 haK^f *r^ ^°""^ P'°P'^ ^^"^ 'die in their 
 habits and desponding in their tempers, they 
 must have perished with cold and hunger, in 
 stead of enjoying many necessaries and even 
 »me httle luxuries in their lonely forest home 
 Fortunately they had been brought up in The 
 early practice of every sort of'sefuhiis, to 
 endure every privation with cheerfnl fortitjde- 
 noti indeed, qmotly to sit down and wait fo^ 
 be r times, but vigorously to create those 
 better times, by every possible exertion that 
 
 To be up and doing, is the maxim of a 
 Canadian; and it is this that" nerves his arm t, 
 do and bear. The Canadian settler, follol, 
 
 ne^v ■"' '1"™°'^ "y ^ -^-- of his own 
 energy. He brings up his family to rely upon 
 
 The children oi the modem emigrant, though 
 enjoying a higher degree of dvl»l: !S 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 253 
 
 intelligence, arising from a liberal education, 
 might not have fared so well under similar cir- 
 cumstances as did our Canadian Crusoes, be- 
 cause, unused to battle with the hardships inci- 
 dental to a life of such privation as they had 
 known, they could not have brought so much 
 experience, or courage, or ingenuity to their aid. 
 It requires courage to yield to circumstances, as 
 well as to overcome them. 
 
 Many little useful additions to the interior of 
 their dwelling were made by Hector and Louis 
 during the long winter. They made a smoother 
 and better table than the Urst rough one that 
 they put toc'ether. They also made a rough 
 partition of split cedars, to form a distinct and 
 separate sleeping-room for the two girls ; but aa 
 this division greatly circumscribed their sitting 
 and cooking apartment, they resolved, as soon 
 as the spring came, to cut and draw in logs for 
 putting up a better and larger room to be°used 
 as a summer parlour. Indiana and Louis made 
 a complete set of wooden trenchers out of but- 
 ter-nut, a fine hard wood of excellent grain, and 
 less liable to warp or crack than many others. 
 
 Louis's skill as a carpenter was much greater 
 than that of his cousin. He not only posses-pd 
 more judgment and was more handy, but he . ..d 
 a certain taste and neatness in finishing his 
 ^ork, however rough his materials and rude his 
 
 22 
 
254 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 r 
 
 
 -»-kei With hiSat^r„,:r£; - 
 
 carve a Plum.atono.,.toa mml.r.are bastt wih 
 handle across it, a!! ,]elicat<.i,. „ T' ^ 
 flower and cbcl^ke Jo r TLnf,";' J"" 
 butter.,u,t would be transformed iM' " * 
 
 : t «>™*; -^ -at, andTX t,;:^: 
 
 r.nf ■ ,(. r , "arK. Oombs he conlrl 
 
 cnUu o v.,od or bone, so that Catharine Id 
 .-4 V"- *" """^"^ " "' bmids or band, 
 
 could T «„ '"^ '^^*^' P'^'d ''b'"' ha 
 could m any way contribute to bis cou -in', 
 happmes,. These little arta Uuis Ld 
 taught by his father. Indeed thTlt f *" 
 that their little .ettJent tL CLtl"" 
 or village had necessarily Wd their / 7° 
 
 ror iiector and Louis, who were always on th 
 alert to render the strangers any service in thet 
 power, as by that means they sometimrrl. 1 
 
 ■rappers. And then there were wonderful t, '. . 
 of n^rvellous feat, and hairbreadth^^ " 
 
THE CANADIAN CBC30E9. 256 
 
 listen to, ^ they sat with eager looks and open 
 house. Now they would in their turns haTe 
 
 had'benf "V'"""^ ^'^^^'""-' -<i a'l thi 
 had befallen them since the Hrst day of their 
 
 wanderings on the Rice Lake Plains. 
 
 Thelongwinterpassedawayunmarkedbyanv 
 very t,r„„g event. The Indians had revfsited 
 the hunt,ng.grounds; but they confined tb m 
 Sin "^I u ""^ ^"'^™ ''^' »f «=e pla ns, 
 
 !nd n .t '"fS '" "'°'«^' "^e^- The latter 
 end of the month of Mai^h presented fine sugar- 
 making weather ; and as they had ',be use of the 
 ^g .ron pot, they resolved to make maple sugar I 
 «d some molasses. Long Island was decided 
 upon aa the mc«t eligible place: ithrdtld ■ 
 vantage over Maple Island of having a shcnty 
 ready built for a shelter during the^time they 
 might see fit to remain, and a good boilinu^ 
 place, which would be a comfort^to the grif 
 ^ they need not be exposed to the weather 
 during the process of sugaring. The two boy, 
 
 which they hewed out into sugar-troughs • In 
 
 dmna manufactured some rough pails of birch- 
 
 bark, and the first favourable day for the work 
 
 hey loaded up » aand-sleigh with their vessel^ 
 
 .. -„..-.. _.^ ,^.,.,„ o^gj, ^.^^ ^^^ ^ ^^^ ^j^^^ ^^^ 
 
 
 I 
 
ip' 
 
 258 THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 tapped the trees they thought could yield sip 
 
 ihey did not leave the sugar-bush for good till 
 
 the tt *""."'"^ '° ""'"* *^ »P""g^ *at fed 
 
 hat ft ' ' u '" •■'"! "P"" ''' ^"'^""«' '""Sht them 
 that t would not long be p-udent to remain on 
 the ,sla„d. The loud booming rounds that were 
 nowfrequently ueardof the penmn air beneath 
 «tr:v,ng to break forth from its io/pr L„ ^e , 
 warnings not to be neglected. Openings Can 
 to appear, especially at the entrance of the river 
 and between the islands, and opposite to some 
 the „» T Tf' '' '^'"^ '''""^ 'hat attracted 
 gmded by that instinct that never errs, from 
 tZ '^'^'"^t"^ '° tte far-off lands, and 
 Indiana knew the signs of the wild birds coming 
 and going with a certainty that seemed almosf 
 
 r'd'r't '/^ ^''"P'''--°'ied companions 
 
 How delightful were the first indiLons of 
 
 the coming spring! How joyously our young 
 
 Crosoes heard the first tapping of the Td 
 
 headed woodpker, the lol^l.,, .tb^ 
 
 WV- 1 .' T'^-^'"'^- "' *"' -"^at quakerly! 
 
 If a X d.' *'" T"' *" "^"'^ "^ -"^ 'he net 
 ot sunny days and green buds, the low, tender. 
 
THE CANAblAN CRUSOES. 267 
 
 »^hispering note of the chickadee, flitting amon^ 
 the pines or in the thick branches of the shore- 
 Bide trees I The chattering note of the little 
 striped chitmunk, as it pursued its fellows over 
 the fallen trees, and the hollow sound ^ ^he 
 male partridge heavily striking his wings against 
 his sides to attract the notice of the female birds 
 -were among the early spring melodies, for 
 such they seemed to our forest dwellers, and for 
 
 them^^^ ^'^^""^^ ^'^^ ^''^^'' ^^''' ^"""^ *^^^ *^^^^ 
 
 j|«<7 fi, » . ," '"^"^ ^''^^r, cold winter, was past. 
 And that Bpnng, lovely spring, was approacLing at"l.» 
 
 They watched for the first song of the robin * 
 and the full melody of the red thrush ;+ the 
 rushing sound of the passenger-pigeon, as flocks 
 of these birds darted above their heads, some- 
 times pausing to rest on the dry limb of some 
 withered oak, or darting down to feed upon the 
 scarlet berries of the spicy winter-green, the 
 acorns that still lay upon the now uncovered 
 ground, or the berries of hawthorn and dogwood 
 that still hung on the bare bushes. The pines 
 were now putting on their rich, mossy, green 
 sprmg dresses; the skies were deep blue; nature 
 weary of her long state of inaction, seemed 
 waking into life and light. 
 
 • Mvt miffratorius, or Aaarioan robin. ' 
 
 t -. -if^us rrielodus, or wood-thrush. 
 
 I 
 
258 
 
 ^^ "^MDIAN CRU30ES. 
 
 : ,. 
 
 On the pUiuB the snow soon disappears, for 
 the ^,rcn and air has access to the earth muca 
 easier than in the close, dense forest ; and Hec 
 tor and Louis were noon able to move about 
 
 tTon tn^T.' V"""^' ^. -' -- ^^^^ ^'- *h- addi- 
 tion to the house which thej proposed making. 
 
 They also set to work, as soon as the frost was 
 out of the ground, to prepare their little field 
 for the Indian corn. This kept them quite busy 
 Catharme attended to the house, and Indiana 
 went out fishing and hunting, bringing in plenty 
 of small game and fish every day. After they 
 had piled and burned up the loose boughs and 
 trunks that encumbered the space which the^ 
 had marked out, they proceeded to enclose it 
 vnth a brush fence, which was done by felling 
 the trees that stood in the line of the field and 
 letting them fall so as to form the bottom W of 
 tne fence, which ih^y then made of sufficient 
 iieight by piling up arms of trees and brush- 
 wood. Perhaps in this utter they were too 
 particular, . th..e was .o fear of "breachy 
 cattle, or any cattle, intruding on the crop ; but 
 Hector mam-.: .3d that de.r and be vs were as 
 much to be guarded against as oxen and covs 
 
 Ihe httle enclosure wa. .ade secure from 
 any such depredator^ ana was as clean as 
 hands could make it, . . t ' 3 two cousins were 
 >^tting on a log, co. mte. y surveying their 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 269 
 
 ^OTk, and talking of the time when the grain 
 was to be put in. It was about the beginning 
 of the second week in May, as near as they 
 could guess f,-oni the bursting of the forest buds 
 an( the blooming of such of the flowers as the7 
 were acquainted with. Hector's eyes had fol- 
 lowed the flight of a large eagle that now 
 turnmg from the lake, soared away majestically 
 towards the east or Oak .ills. But soon his 
 eye was attracted to another object. The loftiest 
 part of the ridge wa.s enveloped in smoke. At 
 first he thought it must be some mist-wreath 
 hoyermg over its brow; but soon the dense 
 rolling clouds rapidly spread on each side, and 
 he felt certain that it was from fire, and nothing 
 but fire,* that those dark volumes arose. 
 
 "Louis, look yonder I the hills to the east are 
 on iire." 
 
 " re. Hector ? you are dreaming I" 
 
 " Nay, but look there I" 
 
 The hills were now shrouded in one dense 
 rollmg cloud ; it moved on with fearful rapiditv 
 down the shrubby side or the hill, supplied b 
 the dry, withered foliage and deer-grass, which 
 was like stubble to the flames. 
 ^ "It IS two miles off, or more," said Louis; 
 • and the creek will stop its progress long before 
 
 ^' I'yiliuXX I, 
 
260 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOlCa. 
 
 Irjn."""-''"'^"'^^-™^"^-. beyond 
 
 "Th< cedars are as drv n«j tinri^^ i 
 the crPf^lr it ic "^ tinder; and as to 
 
 ine creek, it is so narrow, a burnino- treo f .Hi 
 
 p.pe, wWa ho was out in the new fallow- the 
 eaves were dry, and kindled ; and beforii^h! 
 the woods were burning for miles." ^ 
 
 „J'^'.r'"/ S'"""'^ spectacle, those pine-hills 
 when the fire got i„ among ihem," saM i^'"i^ 
 See, see how fast the fires kindle • that ml 
 be some fallen pi„e that they have ^o^mT 
 
 "If the wind would but change, and blowm 
 
 the „ppos,ta direction 1" said Heftor, anxiinll" 
 
 The wind, mon ami, seems to have litt^ 
 
 nflnencc ; for as long as the fire finds fuel f oi 
 
 'he dry bushes and grass, it drives on even 
 
 against the wind." ' ° 
 
 ..tl ^^7- ?°''° *^ '''■"^ freshened, and thev 
 eould plainly see a long line of wicked briZ 
 flames in advance of the dense mass of 'vapot 
 
e, bejond 
 
 and as to 
 ee falling 
 side; be- 
 lys does 
 -V fur the 
 ^member 
 low long 
 t raged I 
 father's 
 ow; the 
 re night 
 
 ne-hills, 
 I Louis, 
 it mus; 
 lold of ; 
 I — is it 
 
 ^low m 
 iously. 
 5 little 
 1 from 
 even 
 
 I thej 
 aright 
 apo^ir 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 2A1 
 
 which hung in its rear. On it came, that rolling 
 sea of flame, with inconceivable rapidity, gather- 
 ing strength as it advanced. The demon of 
 destruction spread its red wings to the blast, 
 rushing on with fiery speed; and soon hill and 
 valley were wrapped in one sheet of flame. 
 
 " It must have been the work of the Indians,' 
 said Louis. "We had better make a retreat to 
 the island in case of the fire crossing the valley. 
 We m.ust not neglect the canoe ; if the fire 
 sweeps round by the swamp, it may come upon 
 us unawares, and then the loss of the canoe 
 would prevent escape by the lake. But here 
 are the girls ; let us consult them." 
 
 "It is the Indian burning," said Indiana; 
 " that is the reason there are so few big trees on 
 that hill ; they burn it to make the grass better 
 for the deer." 
 
 Hector had often pointed out to Louis the 
 appearance of fire having scorched the bark of 
 the trees, where they were at work, but it seemed 
 to have been many years back ; and when they 
 were digging for the site of the root-house* below 
 the bank, which they had just finished, they had 
 met with charred wood, at the depth of six feet 
 below the soil, which must have lain there tilj 
 the earth had accumulated over it ; a period of 
 
 ♦ Root-houses are built over (.eep excavations below the 
 
 a — Wis Ai«,wj ^r t.«v roOco BuOreu r.uuiu do spouoCu 
 
 i i 
 
 
262 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRCSOES. 
 
 riTf Tl' '""^"^y 1>^™ passed since 
 the wood had been bnrned, as it was so much 
 decomposed as to crumble beneath the wooden 
 shovel which they were digging with. 
 
 AJI day they watched the progress of that Berv 
 sea whose waves were flame-red, rolling flame 
 Onward it came, with resistless speed, o^rpow- 
 enng every obstacle, widening its sphere of 
 ac Uon, till ,t formed a perfect semicircle about 
 hem. As the night drew on, the splendour of 
 the scene became more apparent, and the path 
 of he fire better defined ; but there was no fear 
 of the conflagration spreading as it had done in 
 ^edaytoe. The wind had sunk, and the 
 copious dews of evening effectually put a stop to 
 the progress of the fire. The chLen eo'lild 
 now gaze m security upon the magnificent spec- 
 tocle before them, without the excitement po. 
 
 -hevl.'';'''''^'' r^-^ '^"""g "- dayti'me. 
 -hey lay down to sleep in perfect security that 
 
 nigh., but with the consciousness that, itko 
 
 breeze sprung up in the morning, they iust be 
 
 on the alert to secure their little dwelling and 
 
 ts content from the devastation that threalncd 
 
 t. They knew that they had no power to stop 
 
 men better than a rough wood-shovel, which 
 would be found very ineffectual in op;nTn ' a 
 trench or turning the ground up, so as to cut off 
 
THE CAIiADIAN ORUSOES. 263 
 
 the communication with the dry grass, leaves, 
 and branches, which are the fuel for supplyina 
 the fires on the plains. The little clearing on 
 one side the house thej thought would be its 
 safeguard, but the fire was advancing on three 
 sides of them. 
 
 "Let us hold a council, as the Indians do. to 
 consider what is to be done." 
 
 "I propose," said Louis, "retreating, bag and 
 baggage, to the nearest point of Long Island." 
 
 "My French cousin has well spoken," said 
 Hector, mimicking the Indian mode of speak- 
 ing; but listen to the words of the wise I 
 propose to take all our household stores that are 
 of the most value to the island, and lodge the 
 rest safely m our new root-house, first removing 
 from Its neighbourhood all such light, loose mat- 
 ter as is likely to take fire ; the earthern roof 
 will save It from destruction ; as to the shanty 
 it must take its chance to stand or fall." 
 
 "The fence of the little clearing will be 
 burned, no doubt. Well, never mind, better 
 that than our precious selves ; and the corn for- 
 tunately, is not yet sown," said Louis. 
 
 Hector's advice met with general applause, 
 and the girls soon set to work to secure the 
 property they meant to leave. 
 
 Itwes a fortunaie thing that the root-house 
 
 naa been fin ialied o° '* ^ -j - - 
 
 cu, t« it xviuicu a secure store* 
 
 i M 
 
264 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 house for their goods, and would also be made 
 available as a hiding-place from the Indians, in 
 time of need. The boys carefully scraped away 
 all the combustible matter from its vicinity, and 
 also from the house ; but the rapid increase of 
 the fire now warned them to hurry down to join 
 Catharine and the young Mohawk, who had 
 gone oflP to the lake shore with such things as 
 they required to take with them. 
 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 265 
 
 made 
 
 ms, in 
 [ away 
 
 Y, and 
 ase of 
 o join 
 3 had 
 igs as 
 
 ' 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " I know a lake where the cool waves break, 
 And softly fall on the silver sand, 
 And no stranger intrudes on that solitude. 
 And no voices but ours disturb the strand." 
 
 Ibish Sons. 
 
 ^HE breeze had sprung up, and had already 
 -^ brought the fire down as far as the creek. 
 The swamp had long been on fire, and now the 
 flames were leaping among the decayed timbers, 
 roaring and crackling among the pines, and 
 rushing to the tops of the cedars, springing from 
 heap to heap of the fallen branches, and filling 
 the air with dense volumes of black and suffo- 
 cating smoke. So quickly did the flames ad- 
 vance, that Hector and Louis had only time to 
 push off the canoe before the heights along the 
 shore were wrapped in smoke and fire. Many 
 a giant oak and noble pine fell crashing to the 
 earth, sending up showers of red sparks as its 
 burning trunk shivered in its fall. Glad to 
 escape from the suffocating vapour, the boys 
 quickly paddled out to the island, enjoying the 
 cool, fresh air of the lake. Reposing on the 
 grass beneath the trees, they passed the day, 
 iiiioiuureu iroiiA tuo GOOiiuay ouu, mxd waiiCixeu 
 23 
 
266 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 
 the progress of the fires upon the shore. At 
 night the girls slept securely under the canoe, 
 which they raised on one side by means of 
 forked stiiks stuck in the ground. 
 
 It was a grand sight to see the burning plains 
 at night reflected on the water. A thousand 
 flaming torches flickered upon its still surface, 
 to which the glare of a gas-lighted city would 
 have been dim and dull by contrast. 
 
 Louis and Hector would speculate on the prob- 
 able chances of the shanty escaping from the 
 fire, and of the fence remaining untouched. Of 
 the safety of the root-house they entertained no 
 fear, as the grass was already springing green 
 on the earthen roof; and below they had taken 
 every precaution to secure its safety, by scraping 
 up the earth near it.* 
 
 Catharine lamented for the lovely spring- 
 flowers that would be destroyed by the fire. 
 
 "We shall have neither huckleberries nor 
 strawberries this summer," she said, mournfully; 
 
 ♦ Many a crop of grain and comfortable homestead has been 
 BBvad by turning a furrow round the field ; and great conflagra- 
 tions have been efl'ectually stopped by men beating the fire out 
 with spades, and hoeing up the fresh earth so as to cut off all 
 communication with the dry roots, grass, and leaves that feed 
 Its onward progress. Water, even could it be got, which is 
 often impossible, ia not near so effectual in stopping the pro- 
 gress of fire ; even women and little children can assist in sucb 
 etuergencies. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 267 
 
 and the pretty roses and bushes will be 
 scorched, and the ground black and dreary." 
 
 " The fire passes so rapidly over that it does 
 not destroy many of the forest trees, only the 
 dead ones are destroyed ; and that, you know 
 leaves more space for the living ones to grow 
 and thrive in," said Hector. " I have seen, the 
 year after a fire has run in the bush, a new and 
 fresh set of plants spring up, and even some that 
 looked withered recover; the earth is renewed 
 and manured by the ashes ; and it is not so 
 great a misfortune as it at first appears." 
 
 " But how black and dismal the burnt pine- 
 woods look for years I" said Louis. " I do not 
 thmk there is a more melancholy sight in life 
 than one of those burnt pine- woods. There it 
 stands, year after year, the black, branchless 
 trees pointing up to the blue sky, as if crying 
 for vengeance against those that kindled the 
 nres." 
 
 ^^ " They do, indeed, look ugly," said Catharine ; 
 yet the girdled ones look very nearly as ill."* 
 At the end of two days the fires had ceased to 
 rage, though the dim smoke-wreaths to the west- 
 ward showed where the work of destruction was 
 Btill going on. 
 
 As there was no appearance of any Indians 
 
 * Tho eirdlod nin«« «« vjiuji u_ i.-_i_.. ., 
 
<f/ 
 
 ■-^. .1 
 
 5^ 
 
 268 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 on the lake, nor yet at the point (Anderson's 
 Point, as it is now called) on the other side, 
 ^hey concluded the fires had possibly originated 
 by accident,— some casual hunter or trapper 
 having left his camp-fire unextinguished; but 
 as they were not very likely to come across the 
 acene of the conflagration, they decided on re- 
 .Surning back to their old home without delay ; 
 ftnd it was with some feeling of anxiety ihat 
 they hastened to see what evil had befallen 
 their shanty. 
 
 " The shanty is burned !" was the simulta- 
 neous exclamation of both Louis and Hector, 
 as they reached the rising ground th£,t should 
 have commanded a view of its roof. " It ia 
 well for us that we secured our things in the 
 root-house," said Hector. 
 
 " Well, if that is safe, who cares ? we can 
 soon build up a new house, larger and better 
 than the old one," said Louis. " The chief of 
 our fence i*j gone, too, I see ; but that we can 
 renew at our leisure ; no hurry, if we get it 
 done a month hence, say I. Come, ma belle, do 
 not look so sorrowf il. There is our little squaw 
 will help us to set up a capital wigwam, while 
 the new house k building." 
 
 " But the nice table that t-ou made, Louis, 
 and the benches and shelves!'' 
 
 "Never mind, Cathv, ■!-« .iv h^^t Srit-- 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 269 
 
 tables, «»<i benches, and shelves too. Never 
 fear, ma chlre, the same industrious Louis will 
 make things comfortable. I am not sorry the 
 old shanty is Jown ; we shall have a fomous 
 one put up, twice as large, for the winter. After 
 the corn is planted we shall have nothing else 
 to do but to think about it." 
 
 The next two or three days were spent in 
 erecting a wigwam, with poles and birch-bark ; 
 and as the weather was warm and pleasant, 
 they did not feel the inconvenience so much as 
 they would have done had it been earlier in the 
 beason. The root-house formed an excellent 
 atore-house and pantry ; and Indiana contrived, 
 in putting up the wigwam, to leave certain loose 
 folds between the birch-bark lining and outer 
 covering, which formed a series of pouches or 
 bags, in which many articles could be stowed 
 awav out of siffht.* 
 
 While the girls were bupy contriving the ar- 
 rangements of the wigwam, the two boys were 
 not idle. The time was come for planting the 
 corn ; a succession of heavy thunder-showers 
 had soaked and softened the scorched earth, and 
 vendered the labour of moving it much easier 
 than they had anticipated. They' had cut for 
 
 •* In tbl5 way the winter wigwams of the Indians rjo oon- 
 •tructed so as to give plonty of stowing room to all their little 
 
 23* 
 
270 
 
 THE CANADIAN CBUSOES, 
 
 ^/ 
 
 themselves wooden trowels, with which they 
 raised the hills for the seed. The corn planted 
 they next turned their attention to cutting 
 house-logs ; those which they had prepared had 
 been burned up; so they had their labour to 
 begin again. 
 
 . ^^^' *;f ° ^''^' Proved good helps at the rais- 
 iiig; and m the course of a few weeks they had 
 the comfort of seeing a more commouious dwell- 
 ing than the former one put up. The finishing 
 of this, with weeding the Indian corn, renewing 
 the fence, and E.hing, and trapping, and shooting 
 partridges and acks and pigeons, fully oocu 
 pied their time this summer. The fruit season 
 was less abundant this year thin th^ r.r.^ • 
 nnp Tu^ ^ 1 1 r ^ " ^^® previous 
 
 one. The fire had done this mischief, and they 
 had to go far a-field to collect fruits during th« 
 summer months. ® 
 
 It so happened that Indiana had gone out 
 early one morning with the boys, and Catharine 
 was alone. She had gone down to the spring 
 for water, and on her return was surprised at 
 the sight of a squaw and her family of three 
 half-grown lads, and an innocent little brown 
 papoose.* In their turn the strangers seemed 
 equally astonished at Catharine's appearance. 
 
tff^ 
 
 THli CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 271 
 
 the 
 
 The smiling aspect and good-natured laugh of 
 the female, however, soon reassured the fright- 
 ened girl, and she gladly gave her the water 
 which she had in her birch dish, on her signi- 
 fying her desire for drink. To this Catharine 
 added some berries, and dried venison, and a bit 
 of maple sugar, which was received with grate- 
 ful looks by the boys; she patted the brown 
 baby, and was glad when the mother released it 
 from its wooden cradle, and fed and nursed it. 
 The squaw seemed to notice the difference be- 
 tween the colour of her young hostess's fair skin 
 and her own swarthy hue ; for she often took 
 her hand, stripped up the sleeve of her dress, 
 and compared her arm with her own, uttering 
 exclamations of astonishment and curiosity; 
 possibly Catharine was the first of a fair-skinned 
 race this poor savage had ever seen. After her 
 meal was finished, she set the birchen dish on the 
 floor, and restrapping the papoose in its cradle 
 prison, she slipped the basswood-bark rope over 
 her forehead, and silently signing to her sons to 
 follow her, she departed. That evening a pair 
 of ducks were found fastened to the wooden 
 latch of the door, a silent offering of gratitude 
 for the refreshment that had been afforded to 
 this Indian women and her children. 
 Indiana thought, from Catharin..'s description, 
 
 that these we.rp. Tnrlinna wifK wV>oiv» oli/% «r„ 
 
272 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 quainted; she spent some days in watching the 
 lake and the ravine, lest a larger ana more for- 
 midable party should be near. The squaw, she 
 said was a widow, and went by the name of 
 Mother Snow-storm, from having been lost in 
 the woods, when a little child, during a heavy 
 storm of snow, and nearly starved to death She 
 was a gentle, kind woman, and, she believed, 
 would not do any of them hurt. Her sons were 
 good hunters; and though so young, helped to 
 
 and the little one. 
 
 I must now pass over a considerable interval 
 of time, with merely a brief notice that the crop 
 
 ^r '':"""" ,'"""^^ ^"'^^^*^^' ^"d Proved 
 aD«i..u.n., ard a source of great comfort: The 
 
 r^w^gathemi and stored, and plenty ofgame 
 
 hone ^' ^"^ additional store of 
 
 The Indians, for some reason, did not pay 
 their accustomed visit to the lake this season 
 Indiana said they might be engaged with war 
 among some hostile tribes, or had gone to other 
 Wmg-grounds. The winter was unusully 
 
 s^rin.T n '* """" ^°°^ ^'^''' '' ''' ^°- Yet the 
 Itw.! TT^^ ""'' '"^'^^' "°^ ^^''' '^^^ "«"al. 
 
 had made any very decided progress. 
 I he little log-house presented a neat and cox.' 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 278 
 
 fortable appearance, both within and without. 
 Indiana had woven a handsome mat of basa 
 bark for the floor ; Louis ^nd Hector had fur- 
 nished it with very decent seats and a table, 
 rough, but still very respectably 'Constructed, 
 considering their only too' s were lahawk, a 
 
 knife, and wooden wedges for splitting the wood 
 into slabs. These Louis afterwards smoothed 
 with great care and patience. Their bedsteads 
 were furnished with thick, soft mats, woven by 
 Indiana and Catharine, from rushes which they 
 cut and dried ; but the little squaw herself pre- 
 ferred lying on a mat or deer-skin on the floor 
 before the fire, as she had been accustomed. 
 
 A new field had been enclosed, and a fresh 
 crop of corn planted, and was now green and 
 flourishing. Peace and happiness dwelt within 
 the log-house; — but for the regrets that ever 
 attended the remembrance of all they had left 
 and lost, no cloud would have dimmed the 
 serenity of those who dwelt beneath its humble 
 roof. 
 
 The season of flowers had again arrived, — the 
 earth, renovated by the fire of the former year, 
 bloom'd with fresh beauty, — June, with its fra- 
 grant store of rosea and lilies, was now far ad- 
 vanced, — the anniversary of that time when they 
 had left their beloved parents' roofs, to become 
 sojourners in the lonely wilderness, had return- 
 
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274: 
 
 THE CANADIAJf CRUSOES. 
 
 anxiety thlyZZ w. "'' "'"' '""«'> 
 
 gentleness, her ^XTld tilTt:',^- 
 ove, seeded eaeh day to incre J N^l Idt"? 
 
 Sedeemer. She had T'a ""'""''^ "'' ''^ 
 
 Catharine Car";'"?""^ "? '^ "»-'"»• 
 usually preferred staying at home, 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 275 
 
 and preparing the meals against their return. 
 She had gathered some fine ripe strawberries, 
 which, with plenty of stewed rice, Indian meal 
 cake, and maple sugar, was to make their dinner. 
 She was weary and warm, for the day had been 
 hot and sultry. Seating herself on the threshold 
 of the door, she leaned her back against the door- 
 post, and closed her eyes. Perhaps the poor 
 child's thoughts were wandering back to her 
 far-off, never-to-be-forgotten home, or she might 
 be thinking of the hunters and their game. Sud- 
 denly a vague, undefinable feeling of dread stole 
 over her mind : she heard no steps, she felt no 
 breath, she saw no form ; but there was a strange 
 consciousness that she was not alone — that some 
 unseen being was near, some eye was upon her. 
 I have heard of sleepers starting from sleep the 
 most profound when the noiseless hand of the 
 assassin has been raised to destroy them, as if the 
 power of the human eye could be felt through 
 the closed lid. 
 
 Thus fared it with Catharine : sh- telt as if 
 some unseen enemy was near her ; and, spring- 
 ing to her feet, she cast a wild, troubled glance 
 around. No living being met her eye; and, 
 ashamed of her cowardice, she resumed her seat. 
 The tremulous cry of her little grey squirrel, 
 a pet which she had tamed and taught to run 
 
^'^^ THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 "What aileth thee, wee dearie?" she said 
 tenderly as the timid little creature erept t^L 
 bhng to her breast. " Thy mistress h s 's^ ^d 
 
 neither catamount nor weasel here to seize 
 
 fiead and flung back the thick clustere of soft 
 
 hXrtfled I ° f "^ '?^ ^'''^ »P°" I^^'' ■»<=' 
 ner terrified gaze, gleaming with sullen ferocitv 
 
 S17f u ""^ "'""^ ""^ ™iW«, partly oon- 
 
 ?Xd ir/' r '^''' ^^^^«^' "-k t^" 
 
 nTT. 7 I '*'■• ""^ P"" g''-' "^'her spoke 
 ha dTtLti "*''"!' '"'"^^' but pressing he 
 
 loTd irfSoTr w'r -" '^ *- ^'"' '^^ 
 Stir ~-"'^. -""-% 
 
 Step, the savage advanced from his lurking-place 
 
 Hera, with such a g»ze as the wily sern^i i, 
 said to fascinate his prey. Hia hapletCm 
 moved not; whither could she flee t^e^a^on^ 
 
 hertthT 'n^f '" -% Wo^eTt^ken 
 her ,n the race? where conceal heraelf from him 
 whose wary e,^fl,ed upon her seemed tode^riv" 
 ner of all vital energy ? ^^ynve 
 
 ^ 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 27' 
 
 
 T 
 
 Uttering that singular, expressive guttural 
 which seems with the Indian to answer the pur- 
 pose of every other exclamation, he advanced 
 and taking the girl's ice-cold hands in his,' 
 tightly bound them with a thong of deer's hide, 
 and led her unresistingly away. By a circuitous 
 path through the ravine they reached the foot 
 of the mount, where lay a birch canoe, rocking 
 gently on the waters, in which a middle-aged 
 female and a young girl were seated. The 
 females asked no questions, and expressed no 
 word indicative of curiosity or surprise, as the 
 strong arm of the Indian lifted his captive into 
 the canoe, and made signs to the elder squaw 
 to push from the shore. When all had taken 
 their p.aces, the woman, catching up a paddle 
 from the bottom of the little vessel, stood up, 
 and with a few rapid strokes sent it skimming 
 over the lake. 
 
 The miserable captive, overpowered with the 
 sense of her calamitous situation, bowed down 
 her head upon her knees, and concealing her 
 agitated face in her garments, wept in silent 
 agony. Visions of horror presented themselves 
 to her bewildered brain— all that Indiana had 
 described of the cruelty of this vindictive race 
 came vividbr before her mind. Poor child, what 
 miserable thoughts were thine during that brief 
 voyage i 
 24 
 
278 
 
 tBE CANADIAN CKUSOES. 
 
 beloved ones on mLiJ, !f'"^ ""' ">"^ 
 fading it folate, wr3\'!'''-,''o„e and 
 
 'ease? As these ideas clTJ \^° ''"P^ "^ '■<'• 
 
 t» agitated mind/siri r °*" *^°°S'' 
 '"g with tea,^ to he fae« ii r^"" =''^''"'- 
 companions witht titen^ Z"*'"" ""^ ^is 
 ^teartbutthes.oi::,^:^^'^^'."'^""'/ 
 have softened at its sad aDoe! • h! / *"" "'°"''' 
 glance of sympathy mp^T' """"o answering 
 i«» silent loot of Z-l^"' "^ '-^^ S''^^ ^aet 
 moved the cold aLLZr *, """''^ '""" " -nnselo 
 »f the woeS^I-rr"''''^''''''*"^ 
 melaneholy attitude, bSrinHer ?'""''' ^'' 
 heavmg bosom to Wde iS^bf, ^ '° ''^ 
 tie heartless strangeT ^ ""°'^°™ f««" 
 
 She was not fujjy aware th.t ;♦ • 
 InAan's education to Sth " <"" '"' "■« 
 of the heart, to cheek a 1 V """^^ ^'^'^''g^ 
 emotions which ts Llh T "^ r*' '^■"'- 
 from the savage ^ ''^ """'"2«d man 
 
 th^'Si^fspr^Z'^-^-fl-ceof 
 
 •«to the world TL the,'''" ^^^ '"'^<'^'' 
 obedient to the will '^t ^^^ °' ""e dis- 
 
 ? 
 
 obedient to the;;;"™':; ^rr"'^*^- 
 
 down the st«,ngho]ds of lit^i '° ''«'= 
 
 to teach man thlt he is tv 5 *'^' '"«' 
 
 ^ "^ bjr nature the child of 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 279 
 
 wrath and victim of sin, and that in his unre- 
 generated nature his whole mind is at enmity 
 with God and his fellow-men, and that in his 
 flesh dwelleth no good thing. And the Indian 
 has acknowledged that power,-he has cast his 
 Idols of cruelty and revenge, those virtues on 
 which he prided himself in the blindness of his 
 heart, to the moles and the bats; he has bowed 
 and adored at the foot of the Cross ;-but it was 
 not so m the days whereof I have spoken * 
 
 * Appendix K. 
 
 '#■ 
 
280 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 =-#• -1 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Beaumont AND Fletohbb. 
 
 l«<i to the camp Xu ,^ «>e„arrowpath that 
 
 enclosed with shrubby tC thf ^"^^ 'P<" 
 at the Jake shore to hri „.""""*" '^^'^'^ 
 
 It is a fearful thintr tn foil ■ « , 
 "» enemy, but doubl^ VtiX: '""'^ "' 
 » stranger to the langua Ji„ " ^ \' "'™>' '^ 
 plead for mercy-whS 1 . "^ *" ''""'d 
 "or his laws th^^se^y wh^^';! "»' °« «od, 
 governed. Thus felf t^ ourselves are 
 
 Btood alone, mute w th , ^°°' °"P"™ ^ ^''e 
 naked dusky forms wl^L 'r^^ "■« '''"^• 
 he^elf surrounded Sh "^ *' ""^ ^°™d 
 -nd that Strang a.t b?' if^ ^r" ^'T 
 eye might r^t upon some di'r f^kt .""^ t"' 
 she saw not the Irinri k * lamiimr face, but 
 
 ' irmd but grave face of Hector 
 
 • t 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 281 
 
 » 
 
 nor met the bright sparkling eye of her cousin 
 Louis, nor the soft, subdued, pensive features of 
 the Indian girl, her adopted sister— she stood 
 alone among those wild, gloomy-looking men ; 
 some turned away their eyes as if they would 
 not meet her woe-stricken countenance, lest they 
 should be moved to pity her sad condition ; no 
 wonder that, overcome by the sense of her utter 
 friendliness, she hid her face with her fettered 
 hands and wept in despair. But the Indian's 
 sympathy is not moved by tears and sighs; 
 calmness, courage, defiance of danger, and con' 
 tempt of death are what be venerates and ad- 
 mires even in an enemy. 
 
 The Indians beheld her grief unmoved. At 
 length the old man, who seemed to be a chief 
 among the rest, motioned to one of the women 
 who leaned against the side of the wigwam, to 
 come forward and lead away the stranger. 
 Catharine, whose senses were beginn ,,- to be 
 more collected, heard the old man give orders 
 that she was to be fed and cared for. Gladly 
 did she escape from the presence of those pitiless 
 men, from whose gaze she shrunk with maiden- 
 ly modesty. And now when alone with the 
 woman, she hesitated not to make use of that 
 natural language which requires not the aid of 
 speech to make itself understood ; clasping her 
 
 hands imnln-rinrrlTr alio tn'^H ef At-- /"--J. - <• .1 
 
 24* 
 
282 THE CANAWAN CBUS0E3 
 
 teare, while shn n^v!^ '"■''' '^' "owin" 
 
 been ao suddI„7S„ '""' *'"'='' ^""^ ^-^J 
 
 pointed to the north t she s^rit"' .*'' 
 motioned to the youn^ mT T ^^^ ""^^ 
 been Catharine/:^^^^^^ T'^ '•>« had 
 ^"•>g a hunting.knife with '^^'=*°oe-to 
 
 oneofthefoldsffthe^rlhl^k'onh'"'"'" 
 Catharine beheld tl,« j ?, °"°e wigwam. 
 
 tands of thTlndian ^ ^"'P"" '" 'ho 
 
 at her throat. So you„7 ^ ^' ''"' '^^''^ 
 a oruel, bloody death r^TTf/r^^' '° <he by 
 
 ofW.nrdert^ot'prtrur'' '''^''-« 
 denied-»he east betSZh.T'^"'''"^ 
 up her hands in silenT^™ ^"^^^ "'"' held 
 
 Indian woman but to T ' "".' '^ *^ '^'•^'"i^d 
 P'-ayer of the 'pot Z^Z *'t 'T "^ ""« 
 
 ™ ot the terror-struck girl, 
 
Ig 
 
 «l 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 288 
 
 «^hile the Other held the weapon of destruction ; 
 vvith a quick movement she severed the though 
 tha bound the fettered wrists of the pleadinc. 
 captive, and with a smile that seemed to liah°t 
 up her whole face she raised her from her pros- 
 trate position laid her hand upon her young 
 head and with an expres.sion of good-humoured 
 surprise lifted the flowing tresse's of her sunn" 
 bair and spread them over the back of her own 
 swarthy hand ; then, as if amused by the striking 
 contrast she shook down her own jettyblack 
 hair and twined a tress of it with one of the 
 fair-haired girl's-then laughed till her teeth 
 shone like pearls within her red lips. Many 
 were the exclamations of childish wonder that 
 broke from the other females, as they compared 
 the snowy arm of the stranger with tieir own 
 dusky skins ; it was plain that they had no inten- 
 tion of harming her, and by degrees distrust and 
 
 !ll . T^f^ companions began in some 
 measure to subside. 
 
 The sqno^w motioned her to take a seat oa 
 a mat be.,uu her, and gave her a handful of 
 parched rice and some deer's flesh to eat; but 
 Catharine's heart was too heavy; she wa^ sut^ 
 fering from thirst, and on pronouncing the 
 Indian word for water, the young girl snatched 
 up a piece of birch-bark from the floor of the 
 tent, and gathering the corners together, ran to 
 
 7 
 
THE fANADUtr CRUSOIS. 
 
 •o the lips of her gues^ ^.JH ' "'''"'' ''"^ ^^''^ 
 by 'he long deep !Z1 T '" """""^ """^ea 
 «!<vkedhertlu- J. a^ ° " "•.'"' "'"<='' Catharine 
 hope came o" 'h ':'™"""S,"^<=»elou,„ of 
 look of kindly fcelinl"^ ^ f'" "■■'*<"' "'o 
 young India/giH relTdt r^ ''"' """^l.t the 
 'o overcome the ehowl j ^ ^''■'''"=' ^''«'"-ove 
 from time to Le 1' , T'"""" "'••" "°"'J 
 «uctuaM bet.veerh;:\r, Z 'f' "" '"^ 
 of the Indian camp l^ ' T' ''"P^^'^ion 
 qaite hidden from the !^ '^"^ """ '' "as 
 Catharine see Z ^l^ZT^ "^'"'^^ -«" 
 «teep side of the moun thl h' T"'' "°' *« 
 »<»»stomed to ascend andt her brothers were 
 «o the lake shorT „or w^"'^ '" '■''^'"'^its 
 making a signal t.^ them tten !f 7 ■?'""' °^ 
 them on the beach ** ^^^ seen 
 
 --trrSThi^f'^'P'-^.^'l 
 h«ng over the 411, '"^ "''=''« «"> 
 
 were launched, and io„; ^^ ' "' '"" ^''*»' 
 in the mouth 'of the "fvef °l"r".*fy --a 
 sank within her as the ZT' rthanne's hea;t 
 lake showed each ml/f /'?*"« ^'">'^' "^the 
 At midday they ha Jd .t' / " "" ^•''«^^- 
 river, where a Lai on, \'" ^"'^ '" the 
 
 flowing down throul tl P'r '""' ' -^«k 
 ■■ongh the woods afforded them 
 
'Sr in t))|g 
 1 she heJcI 
 J amused 
 -^utharine 
 gloam of 
 rked tlio 
 ■ught the 
 le strove 
 it would 
 as sho 
 position 
 ! it was 
 r could 
 Qor the 
 's were 
 r visits 
 ma of 
 I seen 
 
 J, and 
 I still 
 dians 
 were 
 iea.t 
 fthe 
 nee. 
 the 
 'eek 
 lem 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRLoOES. 
 
 286 
 
 cool water; and here they found several tents 
 put up and a larger party awaiting their return. 
 The river was here a fine, broad, deep, and tran- 
 quil stream; trees of many kinds fringed the 
 edge ; beyond was the unbroken forest, whose 
 depths had never been pierced by the step of 
 man— so thick andluxuriant was the vegetation, 
 that even the Indian could hardly have pene- 
 trated through its dark owampy glades ; far as 
 the eye could reach, that impenetrable inter- 
 minable wall of verdure stretched away into 
 the far-off distance. 
 
 On that spot where our Indian camp then 
 stood are now pleasan, open meadows, with an 
 avenue of fine pines and balsams; showing on 
 the eminence above a large substantial dwelling- 
 house su. rounded by a luxuriant orchard and 
 garden, the property of a naval officer,* who 
 with the courage and perseverance that mark 
 brave men of his class, first ventured to break 
 the bush and locate himself and his infant family 
 in the lonely wilderness, then far from any 
 beaten road or the haunts of his fellow-men. 
 
 But at the period of which I write, the axe 
 of the adventurous settler had not levelled one 
 trunk of that vast forest, neither had the fire 
 
 ♦ Lieiit. Eubidge, whoso interesting account of his early 
 settlemcr t may be read iu a letter inserted in Captain Bakil 
 Hall's Letters from Canada. 
 
 1 
 
I ' I 
 
 2«« THE CANADIAN CRUS0E3 
 
 ^ad as she had tho«l?l "^ ^^'"" '"""tea. 
 
 "«« left her home to hi ™"''"^' '^'=^'' ^^e 
 Bie^ lake PlZ^ho^"", " ^''"^^^^^on the 
 
 - ^er situation stlhTdtrThe T ' "°^' 
 panioDs who had „„i,.i j , ^ "''"r corn- 
 in all her sorrows I tf ^■"i'=''^^«d heron 
 none to love or cherfsh '"" ""^ "'""^ ''"I' 
 
 a desolation of spt 1 1^ T"^'" ""'• *« ''«" 
 g^tful of that tm tt ' tT' r'« <>" ^-^• 
 sustained her in tl» ."^ '""'""' ^''^aj'^ 
 She look,^ ronnd Tnd hr""*' "' ^''^"^-i 
 ='«»ge, unseemly 'fori of "'" '^" "^ '"« 
 who oared „ot for her .'d ^^ "^ *"'' ?'°'"™. 
 object of indifferent or ^v " '^^ ^*' "■> 
 
 when she thought of The grrfThlThe^'^l "''' 
 
 would occasion to rr» f ''^'^ absence 
 
 'hought of thefr Itrf ""^ ^™^i the 
 
 The sooth ngpaietTH'""'^"^'' '''' °^''- 
 
 '"'"ng«>«.d?;:;r«:5:rr* '■■«'- 
 
 •ok: as 
 
 4U3 
 
 wnj 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 287 
 
 wavelets fell tinkling over the massy roots and 
 stones that impeded its course to the river 
 jomed with fatigue and long exposure to the 
 sun and air, caused her at length to fall asleep. 
 The last rosy light of the setting sun was dye- 
 ing the waters with a glowing tint when she 
 awoke; a soft blue haze hung upon the trees; 
 the kingfisher and dragon-fly, and a solitary 
 loon, were the only busy things abroad on the 
 river; the first dar" ^ up and down from an up- 
 turned root near tne water's edge, feeding its 
 younglings; the dragon-fly hawking with rapid 
 whirring sound for insects, and the loon, just 
 visible from above the surface of the still stream, 
 sailed quietly on companionless, like her who 
 watched its movements. 
 
 The bustle of the hunters returning with game 
 and fish to the encampment roused many a 
 sleepy brown papoose, the fires were renewed, 
 and the evening meal was now preparing-^ 
 and Catharine, chilled by the falling dew, crept 
 to the enlivening warmth. And here she was 
 pleased at being recognized by one friendly face 
 —it was the mild and benevolent countenance 
 of the widow Snow-storm, who, with her three 
 sons, came to bid her share their camp fire and 
 food. The kindly grasp of the hand, the beam- 
 ing smile that was given by this good creature, 
 aioeit she was ugly and ili-featured, cheered the 
 
288 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 sad captive's heart. She had given her a cup 
 of cold water and what food her lodging afford- 
 ed, and in return the good Indian took her to 
 her wig ..am and fed, and warmed, and cherished 
 her with the loving-kindness of a Christian- 
 and during all her sojourn in the Indian camp 
 Bhe was a tender mother over her, drying her 
 tears and showing her those little acts of Atten- 
 tion that even the untaught Indians know are 
 grateful to the sorrowful and destitute. Catha- 
 rine often forgot her own griefs to repay this 
 worthy creature's kindness, by attending to her 
 homely preparations of cookery or household 
 work. She knew that a selfish indulgence in 
 sorrow would do her no good, and after the 
 lapse of some days she so well disciplined her 
 own heart as to check her tears, at least in the 
 presence of the Indian women, and to assume 
 an air of comparative cheerfulness. Once she 
 found Indian words enough to ask the Indian 
 widow to convey her back to the lake, but she 
 shook her head and bade her not think any 
 thing about it; and added, that in the fall, when 
 the ducks came to the rice-beds, they should 
 all return, and then if she could obtain leave 
 from the chief, she would restore her to her 
 lodge on the plains; but signified to her that 
 patience was her only present remedy, and that 
 submission to the wUl of the chief wa^ her 
 
 -J 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 289 
 
 wisest plan. Comforted by this vague promise, 
 Catharine strove to be reconcilsd to her strano-e 
 lot, and still stranger companions. She could 
 not help being surprised at the want of curiosity 
 respecting her that was shown by the Indiana 
 in the wigwam, when she was brought thither; 
 they appeared to take little notice that a stranger 
 and one so dissimilar to themselves had been 
 introduced into the camp, for before her they 
 asked no questions about her, whatever they 
 might do when she was absent, though they 
 surveyed her with silent attention. Catharine 
 learned, by long acquaintance with this people, 
 that an outward m (ifestation of surprise* is 
 considered a want of etiquette and good breed- 
 ing, or rather a proof of weakness and childish- 
 ness. The women, like other females, are cer- 
 tainly less disposed to repress this feeling of in- 
 quisitiveness than the men, and one of their 
 great sources of amusement, when Catharine 
 was among them, was examining the difference 
 of texture and colour of her skin and hair, and 
 holding long consultations over them. The 
 young girl and her mother, those who had pad- 
 dled the canoe the day she was carried away to 
 the island, showed her much kindness in a quiet 
 way. The young squaw was granddaughter to 
 the old chief, and seemed to be regarded with 
 
 * 6«e Appendix L. 
 36 
 
290 
 
 THE CANADIAN CItUSOES. 
 
 il 
 
 considerable respect by the rest of the women 
 she was a gay, lively creature, often laughing 
 and seemed to enjoy an inexhaustible fund oi 
 good humour. She was inclined to extend her 
 patronage to the young stranger, making her 
 eat out of her own bark dish, and sit beside her 
 on her own mat. She wove a chain of the 
 sweet-scented gra^s with which the Indians de- 
 light in adorniDg themselves, likewise in per- 
 fummg their lodges with bunches or strewin^s 
 upon the floor. She took great pains in teach- 
 mg her how to acquire the proper attitude of 
 sittmg, after the fashion of the Eastern nations 
 which position the Indian women assume when 
 at rest in their wigwams. 
 
 The Indian name of this little damsel sitrni- 
 fied the Snow-bird. She Tvas, like that lively 
 restless bird, always flitting to and fro from tent 
 to tent, as garrulous and as cheerful too as that 
 merry little herald of the spring. 
 
 Once she seemed particularly attracted by 
 Cathanne's dress, which she examined with 
 critical miuuteness, evincing great surprise at 
 the cut fringes of dressed doeskin with which 
 Indiana had ornamented the border of the short 
 jacket which she had manufactured for Catharine 
 1 hese fringes she pointed out to the notice of 
 the women, and even the old chief was called 
 in tc examine the dress; nor did thA lA^mn^o 
 
THE CANADIAN CRirsOES. 291 
 
 and mocassins escape tieir observation. There 
 ZTnf^vF^r l^''^ ^ ^'^^°' ^^^^ burst from the 
 
 on Bare-hill and ZTt ■ ■^ "^"^ """^ *''^' 
 'o .no. SCtZtn^SHrhJ,— 
 possessed of a dress wroughrrtL ha„T; 
 
 & gc Kji. iier iriend Indiana enablpd Pa^u • 
 time, so that she was snnn oKi x "^ " 
 
 ==:.-■=«=-=: 
 
 ^^he had noticed that among the teats the« 
 
292 
 
 THE CANADIAN CP.USOES. 
 
 was one which stood apart from the rest, an-t 
 was only visited by the old chief and his grand- 
 daughter, or by the elder women. At first she 
 imagined it was some sick person, or a secret 
 tent set apart for the worship of the Great Spirit ; 
 but one day when the chief of the people had 
 gone up the river hunting, and the children were 
 asleep, she perceived the curtain of skins drawn 
 back, and a female of singular and strikino- 
 beauty appeared standing in the open space \l 
 front. She was habited in a fine tunic of white 
 dressed doeskin richly embroidered with coloured 
 beads and stained quills, a full petticoat of dark 
 cloth bound with scarlet descended to her ankles 
 leggings fringed with deer-skin knotted with 
 bands of coloured quills, with richly wrought 
 mocassms on her feet. On her head she wore a 
 coronet of scarlet and black feathers; her long 
 shming tresses of raven hair descended to her 
 waist, each thick tress confined with a braided 
 band of quills dyed scarlet and blue ; her stature 
 was tall and well-formed ; her large, liquid, dark 
 eye wore an expression so proud and mournful 
 that Catharine felt her own involuntarily fill 
 with tears as she gazed upon this singular 
 being. She would have approached nearer to 
 her, but a spell seemed on her ; she shrunk back 
 timid (ind abashed beneath that wild melancholy 
 glance. It was she, the Beam of the Morning, 
 
OES. 
 
 n the rest, ana 
 and his grand- 
 i. At first she 
 on, or a secret 
 e Great Spirit ; 
 he people had 
 5 children were 
 3f skins drawn 
 and strikinsr 
 open space in 
 tunic of white 
 i with coloured 
 tticoat of dark 
 I to her ankles, 
 knotted with 
 3hly wrought 
 ad she wore a 
 3rs; her long 
 ended to her 
 th a braided 
 '', her stature 
 i, liquid, dark 
 nd mournful 
 >luntaril7 fill 
 ;his singular 
 ed nearer to 
 shrunk back 
 i melancholy 
 ;he Morning, 
 
 THE CAXADIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 293 
 
 the self-made widow of the young Mohawk 
 whose hand had wrought so fearful a^vengealc; 
 on the treacherous destroyer of her brother. She 
 stood there, at the tent door, arrayed in her 
 bridal robes, as on the day when she received 
 her death-doomed victim. And when she recalled 
 her fearful deed, shuddering with horror, Catha- 
 nne drew back and shrouded herself within the 
 tent, fearmg again to fall under the eye of that 
 terrible woman. She remembered how Indiana 
 had told her that since that fatal marriage-feast 
 she had been kept apart from the rest of the 
 tribe,-she was regarded by her people as a 
 sacred character, a great Medmne, a female brave 
 a bemg whom they regarded with mysterious 
 reverence. She had made this great sacrifice 
 for the good of her nation. Indiana said it was 
 believed among her own folks that she had loved 
 the young Mohawk passionately, as a tender 
 woman loves the husband of her youth ; yet she 
 had hesitated not to sacrifice him with her own 
 hand. Such was the deed of the Indian heroinp 
 --and such were the virtues of the unregenerated 
 trreeks and Eomans I 
 25* 
 
294 
 
 THE CANADIAX CRUSOES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Du^hM or tl.o rooky channel, fro hs alon/ 
 Or whoro tho silver wuters sootl ed to rest 
 The tree's tan «h„ao. Bleep, upon ititeast." 
 
 COLEBIDOK. 
 
 'J^SE Indian camp remained for nearly threa 
 JL weeks on this spot* and then ea^L „^e 
 mormng the wigwams were all taken down Z 
 
 river. There was very little variety in «,» 
 
 rr *";■"""' °^""'™« ; *e riv fstin k p 
 
 ts slow flowmg course between low loZ 
 
 h.ckly clothed with trees, without an o^n W 
 
 hrough wh.ch the eye might pierce to S "f 
 
 Idea of the conntiy beyond ; not a clearing na 
 
 a sight or sound of civilized man was thSe to 
 
 be seen or heard , the darting flight of the wild 
 
 birds as they flitted across from one side to th„ 
 
 ory of the blue jay, was all that was heard from 
 Bunnse to sunset, on that monotonous ^yag" 
 
 take in firegbod. ^ ' ^'"' ^^^^ """^ Peterborough, td 
 
 • 
 
THE CANADIAX CRUSOES. 295 
 
 ve ved m the current, whieh ran at a consider- 
 abe increase of swiftness, so that it required the 
 umted energy of both men and women to keep 
 the I,ght vessels from drifting down the rive? 
 agam. They were in the rapids,* and it was 
 hard work to stem the tide, and ke^p the upwird 
 course of the waters. At length the rap ds 
 w re passed, and the weary Indian voyagers 
 rested for a space on the bosom of a small but 
 tranquil lake.t The rising moon shed her sS- 
 very light upon the calm watei^ and heaven's 
 s ars shone down into its quiet depths, as the 
 canoes with their dusky freight parted the glit- 
 tering rays with their light paddles. As they 
 proceeded onward the banks rose on either sid^ 
 «.I1 fringed with pine, cedar, and oaks. At an 
 angle of the lake the banks on either side ran 
 out into two opposite peninsulas, forming a nar- 
 
 ' ™I ^T!^ ^ ^°'^'' «>»*'-^<=«>'g tbe lake once 
 more into the appearance of a broad river, much 
 wider from shore to ,hore than any other part 
 they had passed through since they had left the 
 entrance at the EIot Lake. 
 
 JJormerl, l„„™ „ WhW.-, I,..H„., „, ,h, „., „f ,t. 
 
 t The UtUe l»k» about « mU» hi!o» P-wVrinirh .n J .],„„ 
 
 suburbs of the town. -» -nu .onainj^^iivrt o, m. 
 
 "%' 
 
 )/ 
 
296 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E9. 
 
 Catharine became interested in the change of 
 Bcenery; her eye dwelt with delight on the 
 forms of glorious spreading oaks and lofty pines, 
 green cliff-like shores and low, wooded islands; 
 while as they proceeded the sound of rapid flow- 
 ing waters met her ear, and soon the white and 
 broken eddies rushing along with impetuous 
 course were seen by the light of the moon ; and 
 while she was wondering if the canoes were to 
 stem those rapids, at a signal from the old chief, 
 the little fleet was pushed to shore on a low flat 
 of emerald verdure nearly opposite to the last 
 island.* 
 
 Here, under the shelter of some beautiful 
 spreading black oaks, the women prepared to 
 set up their wigwams. They luid brought the 
 poles and birch-bark covering from the en- 
 campment below, and soon all was bustle and 
 business— unloading the canoes, and raising the 
 tents. Even Catharine lent a willing hand to ' 
 assist the fern; s in bringing up the stores, and 
 sundry baskets containing fruits and other small 
 wares. She then kindly attended to the Indian 
 children, certain dark-skinned babes, who, bound 
 upon their wooden cradles, were either set up 
 against the trunks of the trees, or swung to 
 some lowly-depending branch, there to remain 
 
 * 0^6'" theOtonabee, just between therapids and the island, 
 % nobiS sau^mcatantisl bfldgo haa boon bails. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 297 
 
 helpless and uncomplaining spectators of the 
 scene. 
 
 Catharine thought these Indian babes were 
 almost as much to be pitied as herself, only that 
 they were unconscious of their imprisoned state, 
 having from birth been used to no better treat- 
 ment, and moreover they were sure to be re- 
 warded by the tender caresses of living mothers 
 when the season of refreshment an 1 repose ar- 
 rived ; but she, alas I was fiiendless and alone, 
 an orphan girl, reft of father, mother, kindred, 
 and friends. One Father, one Friend, poor 
 Catharine, thou hadst, even He — the Father of 
 the fatherless. 
 
 That night when the women and children 
 were sleeping, Catharine stole out of the wig- 
 wam, and climbed the precipitous bank beneath 
 th? shelter of which the lodges had been erected. 
 She found herself upon a grassy plain, studded 
 with majestic oaks and pines, so beautifully 
 grouped that they might have been planted by 
 the hand of taste upon that velvet turf. It was 
 a delightful contrast to those dense dark forests' 
 through which for so many miles the waters of 
 the Otonabee had flowed on monotonously ; 
 here it was all wild and free, dashing along like 
 a restive steed rejoicing in its liberty, uncurbed 
 and tameless. 
 
 Tes, here it was beautiful i Ca,th.3tSm gazed 
 
w 
 
 r 
 
 298 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOKS. 
 
 <!?%t^"4 
 
 with joy upon the rushing river, and felt her 
 own heart expand as she marked its rapid 
 course, as it bounded murmuring and fretting 
 over its rocky bed. " Happy, glorious watersi 
 you are not subject to the power of any living 
 creature; no canoe can ascend those surging 
 waves ; I would that I, too, like thee, wer./"fr.ie « 
 to pursue my onward way— how soon w,.ii!a I 
 flee away and be at rest !" Such thoughts per- 
 haps might have passed through the mind of 
 the lonely captive girl, as she sat at the foot of 
 one giant oak, and looked abroad over those 
 moon-lit waters, till, oppressed by the over- 
 whelming sense of the utter loneliness of the 
 scene, the timid girl with falt3ring step hurried 
 down rrce more to the wigwams, silently crept 
 to the mat where her bed was spread, and soon 
 forgot all her woes and wanderings in deep 
 tranquil sleep. 
 
 CatlfigxmG wondered that the Indians, in 
 erecting tlieir lodges, always seemed to prefer 
 the low, level, and often swampy grounds by 
 the lakes and rivers in preference to the higher 
 and more healthy elevations. So disregardful 
 are they of this circumstu.i;«, thix. they do not 
 hesitate to sleep where ,,if ^rovntl is satuiuted 
 with moisture. They will then lay a temporary 
 flooring of cedar or any other bark beneath 
 '^eir fq^Mather than remove the tent a few 
 
 # 
 
THE CANADIAN CHrsOES. 
 
 299 
 
 feet higher up, where a drier soil may always 
 be found. This either arises from stupidity or 
 indolence, perhaps from botli, but it is no d<^Hibt 
 the cause of much of the sickness that prevails 
 among them. With his feet stretched to the 
 fire the Indian cares for nothing else when re- 
 posing in his wigwam, and it is useless to urge 
 the improvement that might be made in his 
 comfort ; he listens with a face of apathy, and 
 utters his everlasting guttural, which sav es him 
 the trouble of a more rational reply. 
 
 "Snow-bird" informed Catharim; that the 
 lodges would not again be removed for ^ome 
 time, but that the men would hunt and tish, 
 while the squaws pursued their domestic labours. 
 Catharine perceived that the chief of the la- 
 borious part of the work fell to the share of the 
 females, who were very much more industrious 
 and active than their husbands; these, when 
 not^ out hunting or fishing, were to be seen re- 
 posing in easy indolence under the shade of the 
 trees, or before the tent fires, giving themselves 
 little concern about any thing that was going on. 
 The squaws were gentle, humble, and submis- 
 sive ; they bore without a murmur pain, labour, 
 hunger, and fatigue, and seemed to, perform 
 every task with patience and good humour. 
 They made the canoes, in which the men 
 sometimes assisted them, pitched thaasita, con* 
 
soo 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 verted the skins of the animals which the men 
 shot into clothes, cooked the victuals, manu- 
 factured baskets of every kind, wove mats, dyed 
 the quills of the porcupine, sewed the mocassins, 
 and in short performed a thousand tasks which 
 it would be difficult to enumerate. 
 
 Of the ordinary household work, such as is 
 familiar to European females, they of course 
 knew nothing; tb'^y had no linen to wash or 
 iron, no floors to clean, no milking of cows, nor 
 churning of butter. 
 
 Their carpets were fresh cedar boughs spread 
 upon the ground, and only renewed when they 
 became offensively dirty from the accumulation 
 of fish-bones and other offal, which are care- 
 lessly flung down during meals. Of furniture 
 they had none, their seat the ground, their table 
 the same, their beds mats or skins of animals,— 
 such were the domestic arrangements of the In- 
 dian camp.* 
 
 In the tent to which Catharine belonged, 
 which was that of the widow and her sons' 
 a greater degree of order and cleanliness pre- 
 vailed than in any other, for Catharine's natural 
 love of neatness and comfort induced her to 
 strew the floor with cedar or hemlock every 
 
 Much improvement has taken place of late years in the 
 domestic ecjgpy of the Indians, and soma of th«u- d-slli"'-. 
 «r« «!«<.« o«— 6at gygQ f^j. Europeans. "*' 
 
 we dean a 
 
 "i; »« 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 301 
 
 day or two, and to sweep round the front of the 
 lodge, removing all unseemly objects from its 
 vicinity. She never failed to wash herself in 
 the river, and arrange her hair with the comb 
 that Louis had made for her; and took great 
 care of the little child, which she kept clean and 
 well fed. She loved this little creature, for it 
 was soft and gentle, meek and playful as a little 
 squirrel, and the Indian mothers all looked 
 with kinder eyes upon the white maiden, for 
 the loving manner in which she tended their 
 children. The heart of woman is seldom Cold 
 to those who cherish their offspring, and Catha- 
 rine began to experience the truth, that the 
 exercise of those human charities is equally 
 beneficial to those who give and those that re- 
 ceive ; these things fall upon the heart as dew 
 upon a thirsty soil, giving and creating a 
 blessing. But we will leave Catharine for 
 short season, among the lodges of the Indians, 
 and return to Hector and Louis. 
 26 
 
 
802 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "Cold and forsaken, destitute of friends, 
 And all good comforts else, unless some tree 
 "Whose speechless charity doth better ours 
 With which the bitter east-winds made their sport 
 And sang through hourly, hath invited thee 
 To shelter half a day. Shall she be thus, 
 And I draw in soft slumbers ?" 
 
 Beaumont and FLxronnn. 
 
 JT was near sunset before Hector and hi 
 ■*■ cousin returned on the evening of the eventfu 
 day that had found Catharine a prisoner or 
 Long Island. They had met with good success 
 m hunting, and brought home a fine half-grown 
 fawn, fat and in good order. They were sur- 
 prised at finding the fire nearly extinguished, 
 and no Catharine awaiting their return. There' 
 it is true, was the food that she had prepared 
 for them, but she was not to be seen; sup- 
 posing that she had been tired of waiting for 
 them, and had gone out to gather strawberries, 
 they did not at first feel very anxious, but ate 
 some of the rice and honey, for they were 
 hungry with long fasting; and taking some 
 Indian meal cake in their hands, they went out 
 to call her in, but no trace of her was visible. 
 ./ -^-.,^„.^ Ki«ii^ic«, icaiiag haaz sne iiau 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 808 
 
 ' were sur- 
 
 Bet off bj herself to seek them, and had missed 
 her way home again. 
 
 They hurried back to the Happy Valley— she 
 was not there; to Pine-tree Point— no trace of 
 her there; to the edge of the mount that over- 
 looked the lake— no, she was not to be seen; 
 night found them still unsuccessful in their 
 ■ search. Sometimes they fancied that she had 
 seated herself beneath some tree and fallen 
 asleep; but no one imagined the true cause, 
 havmg seen nothing of the Indians. 
 
 Again they retraced their steps back to the 
 house; but they found her not there. They 
 continued their unavailing search till the moon 
 setting left them in darkness, and they laid 
 down to rest, but not to sleep. The first streak 
 of dawn saw them again hurrying to and fro, 
 calling in vain upon the name of the loved and 
 lost companion of their wanderings. Desolation 
 had fallen upon their house, and the evil which 
 of all others they had most feared, had happened 
 to them. 
 
 Indiana, whose vigilance was more untiring, 
 for she yielded not so easily to grief and 
 despair, now returned with the intelligence that 
 she had discovered the Indian trail, through 
 the big ravine to the lake shore ; she had found 
 the remains of a wreath of oak leaves which 
 had been woven by Catharine, an4 probably 
 
804 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 been about her hair ; and she had seen the mark 
 of feet, Indian feet, on the soft clay, at the edge 
 of the lake, and the furrowing of the shingles 
 by the pushing ofFof a canoe. It was evident 
 that she had been taken away from her home 
 by these people. Poor Louis gave way to 
 transports of grief and despair ; he knew the 
 wreath, it was such as Catharine often made for 
 herself; and Mathilde, and petite Louise, and 
 Marie; his mother had taught her to make 
 them ; they were linked together by the stalks, 
 and formed a sort of leaf chain. The remem- 
 brance of many of their joyous days of child- 
 hood made Louis weep sorrowful tears for 
 happy days, never to return again; he placed 
 the torn relic in his breast, and sadly turned 
 away to hide his grief from Hector and the 
 Indian girl. 
 
 Indiana now proposed searching the island 
 for further traces, but advised wariness in so 
 doing. They saw, however, no smoke nor 
 canoes. The Indians had departed while they 
 were searching the ravines and jflats round 
 Mount Ararat, and the lake told no tales. The 
 following day they ventured to land on Long 
 Island, and on going to the north side saw 
 evident traces of a temporary encampment 
 having been made. This was all they could do, 
 further search was unavailing; as they found 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 sen the mark 
 at the edge 
 the shingles 
 was evident 
 1 her home 
 ve way to 
 I knew the 
 m made for 
 [iouise, and 
 r to make 
 ■ the stalks, 
 'he remem- 
 's of child- 
 tears for 
 he placed 
 ily turned 
 •r and the 
 
 the island 
 ness in so 
 moke nor 
 (rhile they 
 ats round 
 lies. The 
 i on Long 
 side saw 
 Jampment 
 could do, 
 ey found 
 
 305 
 
 no trace of any violence having been committed, 
 they still cherished hopes that no personal harm 
 had been done to the poor captive. It was 
 Indiana's opinion that though a prisoner she 
 was unhurt, as the Indians rarely killed women 
 and children, unless roused to do so by some 
 signal act on the part of their enemies, when 
 an exterminating spirit of revenge induced them 
 to kill and spare not; but where no offence had 
 been offered, they were not likely to take the 
 life of an helpless, unoffending female. 
 
 The Indian is not cruel for the wanton love 
 of blood, but to gratify revenge for some injury 
 done to himself, or to his tribe; but it was 
 dif^cult to still the terrible apprehensions that 
 haunted the minds of Louis and Hector. They 
 spent much time in searching the northern 
 shores and the distant islands, in the vain hope 
 of finding her, as they still thought the camp 
 might have been moved to the opposite side of 
 the lake. 
 
 Inconsolable for the loss of their beloved 
 companion. Hector and Louis no longer took 
 interest in what was going on; they hardly 
 'troubled themselves to weed the Indian corn 
 in which they had taken such great delight ; all 
 now seemed to them flat, stale, and unprofitable ; 
 they wandered listlessly to and fro, silent and 
 ead ; the sunshine had departed from their little 
 
 26* 
 
 • 
 
809 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 :<^]M 
 
 dwelling; they ate little, and talked less, each 
 seemed absorbed in his own painful reveries. 
 
 In vain the gentle Indian girl strove to 
 revive their drooping spirits ; they seemed insen- 
 sible to her attentions, and often left her for 
 hours alone. They returned one evening about 
 the usual hour of sunset, and missed their meek, 
 uncomplaining guest from the place she wa^ 
 wont to occupy. They called, but there was 
 none to reply— she too was gone. They hur- 
 ried to the shore just time enough to see the 
 canoe diminishing to a mere speck upon the 
 waters, in the direction of the mouth of the 
 river; they called to her in accents of despair, 
 to return, but the wind wafted back no sound to 
 their ears, and soon the bark was lost to sight, 
 and they sat them down disconsolately on the 
 shore. 
 
 "What is she doing?" said Hector; "this is 
 cruel to abandon us thus." 
 
 "She was going up the river, with the hope 
 of bringing us some tidings of Catharine," said 
 Louis. 
 
 " How came you to think that such is her in- 
 tention ?" 
 
 " I heard her say the other day that she would 
 go and bring her back, or die." 
 
 "What! do you think she would risk the 
 
ed less, each 
 [ reveries. 
 1 strove to 
 eemed insen- 
 left her for 
 ^ening about 
 
 their meek, 
 ice she was 
 t there was 
 
 They hur- 
 t to see the 
 k upon the 
 >uth of the 
 
 of despair, 
 no sound to 
 Mt to sight, 
 telj on the 
 
 )r; "this is 
 
 h. the hope 
 arine," said 
 
 h is her in- 
 
 t she would 
 
 i risk the 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 807 
 
 vengeance of the old chief whose life she at- 
 tempted to take ?" 
 
 "She is a brave girl ; she does not fear pain 
 or death to serve those she loves I" 
 
 " Alas !" said Hector, " she will perish miser- 
 abJy and to no avail ; they would not restore our 
 dear sister, even at the sacrifice of Indiana's 
 
 "How can she, unprotected and alone, dare 
 such penis? Why did she not tell us? we 
 would have shared her danger." 
 
 " She feared for our lives more than for her 
 own ; that poor Indian giri has a noble heart. 
 I care not now what befalls us; we have lost 
 all that made life dear to us," said Louis gloom- 
 iiy,^smkmg his head between his knees. 
 
 "Hush, Louis ; you are older than I, and 
 ought to bear these trials with more courage 
 It was our own fault, Indiana's leaving us : we 
 left her so much alone to pine after her lost 
 companion ; she seemed to think that we did 
 not care for her. Poor Indiana ! she must have 
 felt lonely and sad." 
 
 "I tell you what we will do, Hec,--make a 
 log canoe. I found an old battered one lyina 
 on the shore, not far from Pine-tree Point. Ve 
 have an axe and a tomahawk,-what should 
 umder us from making one like it?" 
 
 '' True ! we will set'about it to-morrow » 
 
608 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 " I wish it wero morning, that we might set to 
 work to cut down a good pine for the purpose. 
 ^ " As soon aa it is done, we will go up the 
 river; any thing is better than this dreadful 
 suspense and inaction." 
 
 The early dawn saw the two cousins busily 
 engaged chopping at a tree of suitable dimen- 
 sions, and they worked hard all that day, and 
 the next, and the next, before the canoe was 
 hollowed out ; and then, owing to their incxpe- 
 rience and the bluntness of their tools, their first 
 attempt proved abortive ; it was too heavy at 
 one end, and did not balance well in the water. 
 Louis, who had been quite sure of success, 
 was disheartened ; not so Hector. 
 
 " Do not let us give it up ; my maxim is per- 
 severance; let us try again, and again— aye I 
 and a third and a fourth time. I say, never give 
 it up ; that is the way to succeed at last." 
 " You have ten times my patience, Hec." 
 "Yes! but you are more ingenious than I, 
 and are excellent at starting an idea." 
 
 " We are a good pair then for partnership." 
 " We will begin anew ; and this time I hope 
 we shall profit by our past blunders." 
 
 " Who would imagine that it is now more 
 than a month since we lost Catharine I" 
 
 "I know it, a long, long, weary month," 
 replied Louis, and he struck his axe sharply 
 
s. 
 
 3 might set to 
 he purpose. 
 1 go up the 
 his dreadful 
 
 usins busilj 
 able dimen- 
 lat day, and 
 ! canoe was 
 leir inoxpe- 
 Is, their first 
 )o heavy at 
 a the water, 
 of success, 
 
 ixim is per- 
 gain — aje I 
 
 never give 
 last." 
 
 Hec." 
 us than I, 
 
 nership." 
 me I hope 
 
 now moro 
 
 1" 
 
 Y month," 
 
 lC slis.rply 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 809 
 
 into the bark of the pine as he spoke, and 
 remained silent for some minutes. The boys, 
 wearied by chopping down the tree, rested 
 from their work, and sat down on the side 
 of the condemned canoe to resume their con- 
 versation. Suddenly Louis grasped Hector's 
 arm, and pointed to a bark canoe that appeared 
 making for the westernmost point of the island. 
 Hector started to his feet exclaiming, "It is 
 Indiana returned!" 
 
 "Nonsense I Indiana I— it is no such thing. 
 Look you, it is a stout man in a blanket coat." 
 
 "The Indians?" asked Hector inquiringly. 
 
 " I do not think he looks like an Indian ; but 
 let us watch. What is he doing ?" 
 
 " Fishing. See now, he has just caught a fine 
 bass — another — he has great luck — now he is 
 pushing the canoe ashore." 
 
 " That man does not move like an Indian — 
 hark 1 he is whistling. I ought to know that 
 tune. It sounds like the old chanson my father 
 
 used to sing;" and Louis, 
 
 raismg 
 
 his voice, 
 
 began to sing the words of an old French Cana- 
 dian song, which we will give in the English 
 as we heard it sung by an old lumberer. 
 
 " Down by those banks where the pleasant waters flow, 
 Through the wild woods we'll wander, and we'll chase th« 
 buffalo. 
 
 And we'll chase the buflfalo." 
 
810 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOiSS. 
 
 "Hush Louis I you will bring the man over 
 to us," said Hector. 
 
 " The very thing I am trying to do, mon ami. 
 Ihis IS our country, and that may be his; but 
 we are lords here, and tv/o to one-ao I think he 
 will not be likely to treat us ill, I am a man 
 now, and so are you, and he ia bat onp cq he 
 must mmd how he affronts -ig," T3p!ied' Louis 
 iaughmg. 
 
 " I wish the old fellow v.as ir^clined to be 
 Bocable. Hark, if he is not singing now I aye, 
 and the very chorus of the old song,»_and Louis 
 raised his voice to its highest pitch as he re- 
 peated, 
 
 *' • Through the wil J broods we'll wander, 
 And we'll chase the buffalo— 
 Aud we'll chase the buffalo.' 
 
 What a pity I have forgotten the rest of that 
 dear old song I I used to listen with open ears 
 to It when I was a boy. I never thought to 
 hear it again, and to hear it here of all places in 
 the world 1" 
 
 " Come, let us go on with our work," said 
 Hector, wit^ something like impatience in his 
 voice ; and .he strokes of his axe fell once more 
 in regular succession on the log; but Louis's 
 eye was still on the mysterious fisher, whom 
 
 ne could discern Innnormnr ^„ *!,, , 
 
 o"'o ■^« tuc grass ana 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 811 
 
 e man orer 
 
 rasa ana 
 
 smoking h,s pipe. "I do not think he sees or 
 hears us,' said Louis to himself, "but I dunk 
 111 manage to bring him over soon;"-and he 
 set himself bus)ly to work to serape up the 
 loose chips and shavings, and soon began to 
 strike fire with his kuife and flint. 
 
 ;; What are you about, Louie ?" asked Hector. 
 
 "Lighting a fire." 
 
 "I know that, but I want to attract the notice 
 ot yonder tiresome fisherman." 
 
 "And perhaps bring a swarm of savages 
 down upon us who may be lurking in the 
 bushes of the island." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh I Hec;-there are no savages. 
 
 iZ^T i'^^\P^'''--^y thing is belter 
 than this horrible solitude." And Louis fanned 
 the flame into a rapid blaze, and heaped up the 
 light dry branches till it soared up among the 
 bushes. Louis watched the effect of his fire 
 and rubbed his hands gleefully as the bark ca- 
 noe was pushed off from the island, and a few 
 vigorous strokes of the paddle sent it dancing 
 over the surface of the calm lake. 
 
 Louis waved his cap above his head with a 
 ciieer of welcome as the vessel lightly glided 
 into the little cove, near the spot where the boys 
 were cuoppmg, and a stout-framed, weather 
 
«■«■ 
 
 812 
 
 TH£ CANADIAN CRUSOE^ 
 
 beaten man, m a blanket coat, also faded and 
 weather-beaten, with a red worsted sash and 
 worn mocassins, sprung upon one of the timbers 
 of Louib's old raft, and gazed with a keen eye 
 upon the lads. Each party silently regarded 
 the other. A few rapid interrogations from the 
 stranger, uttered in the broad patois of the Lower 
 Province, were answered in a mixture of broken 
 French and English by Louis. 
 
 A change like lightning passed over the 
 face of the old man as he cried out — " Louis 
 Perron, son of my ancient compagnon I" 
 
 "Ouil ouil" — with eyes sparkling through 
 tears of joy, Louis threw himself into the broad 
 breast of Jacob Morelle, his father's friend and 
 old lumbering comrade. 
 
 " Hector, son of la belle Catiiarine Perron," 
 — and Hector, i^n his turn, received the affec- 
 tionate embrace of the warm-hearted old man. 
 
 " Who would have thought of meeting with 
 the children of my old comrade here at the 
 shore of the Eice Lake ?— oh ! what a joyful 
 meeting !" 
 
 Jacob had a hundred questions to ask : Whera 
 were their parents ? did they live on the Plains 
 now ? how long was it since they had left the 
 Cold Springs? were there any more little ones? 
 and so forth. 
 
 The boys looked sorrowfullv at each other, 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 813 
 
 t each other. 
 
 At last the old man stopped for want of breath, 
 and remarked their sad looks. 
 
 "What, mcs nis, are your parents dead? 
 Ah well I I did not think to have outlived 
 them ; but they liave not led such healthy lives 
 as old Jacob Morelle— hunting, fishing, lumber- 
 ing, trapping,— those are the things to harden 
 a man and make him as tough as a stock-fish— 
 eh I mes enfans, is it not so ?" 
 
 Hector then told the old lumberer how long 
 they had been separated from their families, and 
 by what sad accident they had been deprived of 
 the society of their beloved sister. When they 
 brought their narrative down to the disappear- 
 ance of Catharine, the whole soul of the old 
 trapper seemed moved— he started from the log 
 on which they were sitting, and with one of his 
 national asseverations, declared " That la bonne 
 fille should not remain an hour longer than he 
 could help among those savage wretches. Yes, 
 he, her father's old friend, would go up the river 
 and bring her back in safety, or leave his grey 
 scalp behind him among the wigwams." 
 
 " It is too late, Jacob, to think of starting to- 
 day," said Hector. "Come home with us, and 
 eat some food, and rest a bit." 
 
 "No need of that, my son. I have a lot of 
 fish here in the canoe, and there is an old shan- 
 ty on the island yonder, if it be still standing, 
 
 27 
 
mimiSa^m 
 
 814 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 — the Trapper's Fort, I used to call it some years 
 ago. We will go off to the island and look 
 for it." 
 
 "No need for that," replied Louis, "for 
 though I can tell you the old place is still in 
 good repair, for we used it this very spring as a 
 boiling-house for our maple sap, yet we have a 
 better place of our own nearer at hand — just 
 two or three hundred yards over the brow of 
 yonder hill. So come with us, and you shall 
 have a good supper, and bed to lie upon." 
 
 " And you have all these, boys 1" said Jacob, 
 opening his merry black eyes, as they came in 
 sight of the little log-house and the field of green 
 corn. 
 
 The old man praised the boys for their in- 
 dustry and energy. "Ha! here is old Wolfe too," 
 as the dog roused himself from the hearth 
 and gave one of his low grumbling growls. 
 He had grown dull and dreamy, and instead 
 of going ourt as usual with the young hunters, 
 he would lie for hours dozing before the dying 
 embers of the fire. He pined for the loving 
 hand that used to pat his sides, and caress his 
 ehaggy neck, and pillow his great head upon 
 her lap, or suffer him to put his huge paws upon 
 her shoulders, while he licked her hands and 
 face ; but she was gone, and the Indian girl 
 was gone, and the light of the shauty had 
 
i. 
 
 it some years 
 [d and look 
 
 Louis, " for 
 ;e is still in 
 7 spring as a 
 it we have a 
 hand — just 
 the brow of 
 id you shall 
 upon." 
 ' said Jacob, 
 hey came in 
 field of green 
 
 for their in- 
 i Wolfe too," 
 
 the hearth 
 ling growls. 
 
 and instead 
 ang hunters, 
 :e the dying 
 r the loving 
 id caress his 
 t head upon 
 e paws upon 
 r hands and 
 
 Indian girl 
 
 shanty had 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 315 
 
 That evening aa Jacob aat on the three-legged 
 stoo smoking his short Indian pipe, he aSn 
 
 oTefanrth'7'°'^^*"'^<'^''''---^^^^ 
 
 "At least twenty miles, perhaps fifty, for it is 
 a long, long time now since we left horie three 
 summers ago." ' "®* 
 
 bv'ZriL'"'^'' T" r" ■"" ■^'^°° *«tence 
 man Now I know the distance through the 
 
 Hies, ,t cannot be more than seven or eight miles 
 —no, nor that either." * 
 
 poslleTsr™'^ *t '^^ " "^'^*- =^ *« 
 possible? So near, and yet to us the distance 
 
 mls™r'"''°"«'^''^«'-''-''-^ 
 
 part Ifll ^°t" ''''"' ^^'' *"' '^ "'^ P'°™ting 
 
 and I w,'; n ."^' ""''''"^ »y comrades, 
 and I was well-mgh starving, when I chanced 
 
 to come Dack to the snot wh«r. ,.,„ .-j , 
 
 I verily believe I had'not be"e7tw; i;a::"dL:;° 
 
316 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 the whole eight days that I was moving round 
 and round, and backward and forward, just in a 
 circle, because, d'ye see, I followed the sun, and 
 that led me astray the whole time." 
 
 "Was that when you well-nigh roasted the 
 bear?" asked Louis, with a sly glance at 
 Hector. 
 
 "Well, no; that was another time; your 
 father was out with me then." And old Jacob, 
 knocking the ashes out of his pipe, settled him- 
 self to recount the adventure of the bear. Hec- 
 tor, who had heard Louis's edition of the roast 
 bear, was almost impatient at bemg forced to 
 listen to old Jacob's long-winded history, which 
 included about a dozen other stories, all tagged 
 on to this, like links of a lengthened chain ; and 
 was not sorry when the old lumberer, taking his 
 red nightcap out of his pocket, at last stretched 
 himself out on a buffalo skin that he had brought 
 up from the canoe, and soon was soundly 
 sleeping. 
 
 The morning was yet grey when the old man 
 shook himself from his slumber, which, if not 
 deep, had been loud ; and after having roused up 
 a good fire, which, though the latter end of July, 
 at that dewy hour, was not unwelcome, he lighted 
 his pipe, and began broiling a fish on the coals 
 for his breakfast ; and was thus engaged when 
 Hector and Louis wakened. 
 
ES. 
 
 noving round 
 
 ;vard, just in a 
 
 i the sun, and 
 » 
 
 • 
 
 jh roasted the 
 ily glance at 
 
 r time; your 
 ind old Jacob, 
 e, settled him- 
 le bear. Hec- 
 n of the roast 
 3ing forced to 
 history, which 
 'ies, all tagged 
 led chain; and 
 3rer, taking his 
 t last stretched 
 le had brought 
 was soundly 
 
 m the old man 
 , which, if not 
 ving roused up 
 ter end of July, 
 ome, he lighted 
 sh on the coals 
 engaged when 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 817 
 
 ^ " Mes enfans," said Jacob, " I have been turn- 
 ing over in my mind about your sister, and have 
 come to the resolution of going up the river alone 
 without any one to accompany me. I know the 
 Indians ; they are a suspicious people, they deal 
 much m stratagems, and they are apt to expect 
 treachery in others. Perhaps they have had 
 some reason ; for the white men have not always 
 kept good faith with them, which I take to be 
 the greater shame, as they have God's laws to 
 guide- and teach them to be true and just in their 
 dealing, which the poor benighted heathen have 
 not, the more's the pity. Now, d'ye see, if the 
 Indians see two stout lads with me, they will say 
 to themselves, there may be more left behind 
 skulking in ambush. So boys, I go to the camp 
 alone; and, God willing, I will bring back your 
 sister, or die in the attempt. I shall not go 
 single-handed; see, I have here scarlet-cloth, 
 beads, and powder and shot. I carry no fire- 
 water ; it is a sin and a shame to tempt these 
 poor wretches to their own destruction; it 
 makes fiends of them at once." 
 
 It was to no purpose that Hector and Louis 
 passionately besought old Jacob to let them 
 share the dangers of the expedition ; the old 
 man was firm, and would not be moved from 
 his purpose. 
 
 "Look you, boys," he said, "if J do not 
 27* 
 
818 
 
 THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 return by the beginning of the rice-harvest, you 
 may suppose that evil has befallen me and the 
 girl ; then I would advise you to take care for 
 your own safety, for if they do not respect my 
 grey head, neither will they spare your young 
 ones. In such case, make yourselves a good 
 canoe — a dug-out* will do— and go down the 
 lake till you are stopped by the rapids ;t make 
 a portage there ; but as your craft is too weighty 
 to carry far, e'en leave her and chop out another, 
 and go down to the I^'all ;t then, if you do not 
 like to be at any further trouble, you may make 
 out your journey to the bay§ on foot, coasting 
 along the nver; there you will fall in with 
 settlers who know old Jacob Morelle — aye, and 
 your two fathers — ^and they will put you in the 
 way of returning home. If I were to try ever so 
 to put you on the old Indian trail in the wooda, 
 though I know it myself right well, you might 
 be lost, and maybe never return home again. I 
 leave my traps and my rifle with you ; I shall 
 not need them : if I come back I may claim the 
 things ; if not, they are yours. So now I Lave 
 said my say, had my talk, as the Indians say. 
 Farewell. But first let us pray to Him who 
 alone can bring this matter to a safe issue." 
 And the old man devoutly kneeled down, and 
 
 • Log-canoo, 
 
 I H»©!cy's Falls, on the Trent 
 
 t Crook's Rapidfc 
 § Bay ofQuiato. 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 319 
 
 prayed for a blessing on his voyage and on those 
 he was leaving; and then hastened down to the 
 beach, and the boys, with full hearts, watched 
 the canoe till it was lost to their sight on the 
 wide waters of the lake. 
 
820 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E8. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Where wild in woods tlie lordly savag* ran. • 
 
 llTHAT changes a few years make in places I 
 ' » That spot over which the Indians roved, 
 free of all control, is now a large and wide- 
 spreading town. Thob glorious old trees are 
 fast fading away, the memory only of them re- 
 mains to some of the first settlers, who saw them 
 twenty-five years ago, shadowing the now open 
 market-place ; the fine old oaks have disappear- 
 ed, but the green emerald turf that they once 
 shaded still remains. The wild rushing river 
 still pours down its resistless spring floods, but 
 its banks have been levelled, and a noble bridge 
 now spans its rapid waters. It has seen the de- 
 struction of two log-bridges, but this new, sub- 
 stantial, imposing structure bids fair to stand 
 from generation to generation. The Indian re- 
 gards it with stupid wonder : he is no mechanic ; 
 his simple canoe of birch bark is his only notion 
 of communication from one shore to another. 
 The townspeople and country settlers view it 
 with pride and satisfaction, as a means of com- 
 merce aji\x agricultural advantage. Luat lonely 
 
OES. 
 
 7. 
 
 iavag« ran. • 
 
 nake in places ! 
 Indians roved, 
 irge and wide- 
 } old trees are 
 ily of them re- 
 , who saw them 
 I the now open 
 aave disappear- 
 that they once 
 [ rushing river 
 ring floods, but 
 I a noble bridge 
 las seen the de- 
 this new, sub- 
 3 fair to stand 
 The Indian re- 
 s no mechanic ; 
 his only notion 
 )re to another, 
 settlers view it 
 means of com- 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 821 
 
 ■ 
 
 I 
 
 hill, from which Catharine viewed the rapid 
 flowing river by moonlight, and marvelled at 
 its beauty and its power, is now Court-house 
 Hill, the seat of justice for the district,— a fine, 
 Bubstantial edifice ; its shining roof and pillared 
 portico may be seen from every approach to the 
 town. That grey village spire, with its groves 
 of oak and pine, how invitingly it stands I those 
 trees that embower it, once formed a covert for 
 the deer. Yonder scattered groups of neat 
 white cottages, each with its garden of flowers 
 and fruit, are spread over what was once an 
 open plain, thinly planted with poplar, oaks, 
 and pine. See, there is another church ; and 
 nearer, towards the west end of the town, on that 
 fine slope, stands another, and another. That 
 sound that falls upon the ear is not the rapids 
 of the river, but the dash of mill wheels and 
 mill dams, worked by the waters of that lovely 
 winding brook which has travelled far through 
 woods and deep forest dingles to yield its tribute 
 to the Otonabee. There is the busy post-office, 
 on the velvet carpet of turf; a few years, yes, 
 even a few years ago, that spot was a grove of 
 trees. The neat log building that stood then 
 alone there was inhabited by the Government 
 Agent, now Colonel Macdonald, and groups of 
 Indians might be seen congregated on the green, 
 or reposing under the trees, forming meet sub^ 
 
4»' 
 
 822 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 jects for the painter's pencil, for he knew them 
 well, and was kind to them. 
 
 The Indian only visits the town, once tho 
 favourite site for his hunting-lodge, to receive 
 his annual government presents, to trade his 
 simple wares of basket and birch-bark work, to 
 bring in his furs, or maybe to sell his fish or 
 venison, and take back such store goods as his 
 intercourse with his white brethren has made 
 him consider necessary to his comforts, to sup- 
 ply wants which have now become indispen- 
 sable, befrre undreamed of. He traverses 
 those populous, busy streets, he looks round 
 upon dwellings, and gay clothes, and equi- 
 pages, and luxuries which he can neither obtain 
 nor imitate, and feels his spirit lowered; — he 
 is no more a people— the tide of intellect has 
 borne him down, and swept his humble wig- 
 wam from the earth. He, too, is changing:' 
 he now dwells, for the most part, in villages, 
 in houses that cannot be moved away at his 
 will or necessity; he has become a tiller of 
 the ground, his hunting expeditions are pre- 
 scribed within narrow bounds, the forest is dis- 
 appearing, the white man is every where. The 
 Indian must also yield to circumstances ; he 
 submits patiently. Perhaps he murmurs in 
 secret; but his voice is low, it is not heard; 
 he has no representative in the senate to take 
 
I. 
 knew them 
 
 ■n, once tho 
 , to receive 
 to trade his 
 ,rk work, to 
 his fish or 
 ^oods as his 
 I has made 
 Drts, to sup- 
 e indispen- 
 3 traverses 
 >oks round 
 and equi- 
 ther obtain 
 fv^ered ; — he 
 ntellect has 
 limbic wig- 
 changing :' 
 in villages, 
 way at his 
 a tiller of 
 IS are pre- 
 )rest is dis- 
 here. The 
 tances ; he 
 lurmurs in 
 not heard; 
 ate to take 
 
 THE CANADIAN CKUSOES. 
 
 823 
 
 I if 
 
 I I 
 
 interest in his welfare, to plead in his behalf. 
 
 He is anxious, too, for the improvement of 
 
 his race: he gladly listens to the words of 
 
 life, and sees with joy his children being 
 
 brought up in the fear and nurture of the 
 
 Lord; he sees with pride some of his own 
 
 blood going forth on the mission of love to 
 
 other distant tribes; he is proud of being a 
 
 Christian; and if there be some that still look 
 
 back to the freedom of former years, and talk 
 
 of "the good old times," when they wandered 
 
 free as the winds and waters through those 
 
 giant woods, they are fast fading away. A 
 
 new race is rising up, and the old hunter wiU 
 
 soon become a being unknown in Canada. 
 
 There is an old gnarled oak that stands, or 
 lately stood, on the turfy bank, just behind the 
 old Government-house, (as the settlers called 
 It,) looking down the precipitous cliff on the 
 river and the islands. The Indians called it 
 " the white girl's rest," for it waa there that 
 Catharine delighted to sit, above the noise and 
 bustle of the camp, to sing her snatches of old 
 Scottish songs, or pray the captive exile's prayer, 
 unheard and unseen. 
 
 The setting sun was casting long shadows of 
 oak and weeping elm athwart the waters of the 
 river ; the light dip of the paddle had ceased on 
 
 - J „ Lrwyfiug Vi UUUUUS aUQ ii£i-iiM.# 
 
II 
 
 824 
 
 THE CANADIAN^ CRUSOES. 
 
 Stirring sounds from the lodges came softened 
 to the listening ear. The hunters had come in 
 with the spoils of a successful chase ; the -wicr. 
 warn fires are flickering and crackling, sending 
 up their light columns of thin, blue smoke 
 among the trees ; and now a goodly portion of 
 venison is roasting on the forked sticks before 
 the fires. Each lodge has its own cooking 
 utensils. That jar embedded in the hot embera 
 contains sassafras tea, an aromatic beverage, in 
 which the squaws delight when they are so for- 
 tunate as to procure a supply. This has been 
 brought from the Credit, far up in the west, by 
 a family who have come down on a special 
 mission from some great chief to his brethren on 
 the Otonabee, and the squaws have cooked some 
 in honour of the guests. That pot that sends 
 up such ar savoury steam is venison pottage, or 
 soup, .or stew, or any name you choose to give 
 the Indian mess that is concocted of venison, 
 wild rice, and herbs. Those tired hounds that 
 lay stretched before. the fire have been out, and 
 now they enjoy the privilege of the fire, some 
 praise from the hunters, and receive withal an 
 occasional reproof from the squaws, if they ap- 
 proach their wishful noses too close to the 
 tempting viands. 
 
 The elder boys are shooting at a mark on 
 yonder birch-tree; the girls are olavin? or roll 
 
 *^'':.^ 
 
me softened 
 had come in 
 se ; the wig- 
 ing, sending 
 blue smoke 
 y portion of 
 ticks before 
 ivn cooking 
 s hot embers 
 beverage, in 
 y are so for- 
 lis has been 
 ;he west, by 
 n a special 
 brethren on 
 ooked some 
 that sends 
 pottage, or 
 ose to give 
 of venison, 
 lounds that 
 en out, and 
 ' fire, some 
 3 withal an 
 if they ap- 
 )se to the 
 
 I mark on 
 ne- or mil 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 325 
 
 ing on the grass ; " The Snow-bird" is seated on 
 the floor of the wigwam braiding a necklace of 
 sweet grass, which she confines in links by means 
 of little bands of coloured quills ; Catharine is 
 working mocassins beside her;_a dark shadow 
 falls across her work from the open tent door- 
 an exclamation of surprise and displeasure from 
 one of the women makes Catharine raise her 
 eyes to the doorway; there, silent, pale, and 
 motionless the mere shadow of her former self 
 stands Indiana-a gleam of joy lights for an 
 instant her large lustrous eyes. Amazement 
 and delight at the sight of her beloved friend 
 for a moment deprives Catharine of the power of 
 speech ; then terror for the safety of her friend 
 takes place of her joy at seeing her. She rises 
 regardless of the angry tones of the Indian 
 woman s voice, and throws her arms about 
 Indiana as if to shield her from threatened 
 danger, and sobs her welcome in her arms 
 
 "Indiana, dear sister I how came you hither 
 
 and for what purpose?" ' 
 
 "To free you, and then die," was the soft 
 
 low, tremulous answer. " Follow me." ' 
 
 Catharine, wondering at the calm and fearless 
 
 manner with which the young Mohawk waved 
 
 back the dusky matron who approached as if 
 
 with ^the design of laying hands upon her 
 
 nnwcxcome guest, followed with beating heart 
 
 28 
 
826 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E8. 
 
 till tliey stood in the entrance of the lodge 
 of the Bald Eagle; it was filled with the 
 hunters, who were stretched on skins on the 
 floor reposing in quiet after the excitement of 
 the chase. 
 
 The young Mohawk bent her head down and 
 crossed her arms, in attitude of submission, over 
 her breast as she stood in the opening of the 
 lodge ; but she spoke no word till the old chief 
 waving back the men, who starting to their feet 
 were gathering round him as if to shield him from 
 danger, and sternly regarding her, demanded 
 from whence she came and for what purpose. 
 
 "To submit myself to the will of my Ojebwa 
 father," was the meek reply. " May the daughter 
 of the Bald Eagle's enemy speak to her great 
 father?" 
 
 " Say on," was the brief reply, " the Bald 
 Eagle's ears are open." 
 
 " The Bald Eagle is a mighty chief, the con- 
 queror of his enemies and the father of his 
 people," replied the Mohawk girl^ and again 
 was silent. 
 
 "The Mohawk squaw speaks well; let her 
 say on." 
 
 " The heart of the Mohawk is an open flower, 
 it can be looked upon by the eye of the Great 
 Spirit. She speaks :he words of truth. The 
 Ojebwa chief slew his enemies, they bad done 
 
 '**^:':» 
 
f the lodge 
 I with the 
 kins on the 
 citeraent of 
 
 d down and 
 lission, over 
 ning of the 
 ae old chief 
 to their feet 
 jld him from 
 , demanded 
 ; purpose, 
 my Ojebwa 
 he daughter 
 o her great 
 
 "the Bald 
 
 ef, the con- 
 
 ther of his 
 
 and again 
 
 ill; let her 
 
 »pen flower, 
 f the Great 
 ruth. The 
 T had dona 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. {^27 
 
 trort?'''' "^'T^' ^' P^^^«^^^ *hem forth. 
 
 oa^es of his enemies save one vouno- squaw 
 
 he daughter of a bravo, the gran'^dau^ht'e Tf' 
 
 the Black Snake. The Bald Eagle loves even 
 
 an enemy that is not afraid to r'ais the la" 
 
 "The Bald Eagle brought the loneW one to 
 imfe, he bade h,s squaws comfort her ; bui her 
 
 fatherT^'.^r" •' ^'^ P"^"* '""^ *^ ^"'"^ o ho 
 fathers. Sh.. said, X will revenge my father 2 
 
 mother, and my brothers and listed a„d\er 
 
 heart burned within her: but her hand wt no 
 
 strong to shed blood, the Great Spirit waTtbou 
 
 2 Ojebwa father; she failed and wouTd have 
 
 f .1 ?■? f '"^ ^^ '" her flesh. The peoje 
 
 of the Bald Kaglo took her, they broulhtTer 
 
 down the great river to the eouncH MH thev 
 
 bound her with thongs and left her to d ' She 
 
 prayed, and the Great Spirdt heard her prater 
 
 and sent her help. The white man came his 
 
 «*vf isuc 
 
 'f^f 
 
 "u iuu ner to his lodge. 
 
828 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 The white squaw (and she pointed to Catharine) 
 was there, she bound up her wounds, she laid 
 her on her own bed, she gave her meat and 
 drink, and tended her with love. She taught 
 her to pray to the Good Spirit, and told her to 
 return good for evil, to be true and just, kind 
 and merciful. The hard heart of the young girl 
 became soft as clay when moulded for the pots, 
 and she loved her white sister and brothers, and 
 was happy. The Bald Eagle's people came, 
 when my white brothers were at peace, they 
 found a trembling fawn within the lodge, they 
 led her away, they left tears and loneliness 
 where joy and peace had been. The Mohawk 
 Bquaw could not see the hearth of her white 
 brothers desolate ; she took the canoe, she came 
 to the lodge of the great father of his tribe, and 
 she says to him, ' Give back the white squaw to 
 her home on the Eice Lake, and take in her 
 stead the rebellious daughter of the Oiebwa's 
 enemy, to die or be his servant ; she fears not 
 now the knife or the tomahawk, the arrow or the 
 spear : her life is in the hand of the great chief.' " 
 She sank on her knees as she spoke these last 
 words, and bowing down her head on her breast 
 remained motionless as a statue. 
 
 There was silence for some minutes, and- then 
 the old man rose and said, — 
 
 ** "nancfVifay nf a Vi-.-oxrA tirnmon tTinil V>oo* 
 
ES. 
 
 to Catharine) 
 mds, she laid 
 ler meat and 
 She taught 
 d told her to 
 nd just, kind 
 he young girl 
 . for the pots, 
 brothers, and 
 people came, 
 t peace, they 
 e lodge, they 
 nd loneliness 
 The Mohawk 
 of her white 
 noe, she came 
 his tribe, and 
 hite squaw to 
 [ take in her 
 the Ojebwa'a 
 she fears not 
 3 arrow or the 
 great chief.' " 
 oke these last 
 on her breast 
 
 Ltes, and- then 
 
 Lj| vHOtA Hud ft 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 829 
 
 spoken long, and thou hast spoken well- the 
 ears of the Bald Eagle have been open. The 
 white squaw shall be restored to her brother's 
 lodge— but thou remainest. I have spoken." 
 
 Catharine in tears cast her arms around her 
 disinterested friend and remained weeping— how 
 could she accept this great sacrifice ? She in her 
 turn pleaded for the life and liberty of the 
 Mohawk, but the chief turned a cold ear to her 
 passionate and incoherent pleading. He was 
 weary— he was impatient of further excitement 
 --he coldly motioned to them to withdraw; and 
 the friends in sadness retired to talk over all 
 that had taken place since that sad day when 
 Catharine was taken from her home. While her 
 heart was joyful at the prospect of her own re- ■ 
 lease, it was clouded with fears for the uncertain 
 fate of her beloved friend. 
 
 " They will condemn me to a cruel death," 
 said Inuiana, " but I can suffer and die for my 
 white sister." 
 
 That night the Indian ^^rl slept sweetly and 
 tranquilly beside Catharine; but Catharine 
 could not sleep ; she communed with her own 
 heart in the still watches of the night— it 
 seemed as if a new life had been infused within 
 her. She no longer thought and felt as a child • 
 the energies of her mind had been awakened, 
 ripened into maturity as it were, and suddenly 
 
 en I 
 
330 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 expanded. When all the inmates of the lodges 
 were profoundly sleeping, Catharine arose, — a 
 Budden thought had entered into her mind, and 
 she hesitated not to put her design into execu- 
 tion. There was no moon, but a bright arch of 
 light spanned the forest to the north ; it was mild 
 and soft as moonlight, but less bright, and cast 
 no shadow across her path ; it showed her the 
 sacred tent of the widov/ of the murdered 
 Mohawk. With noiseless step she lifted aside 
 the curtain of skins that guarded it, and stood 
 at the entrance. Light as was her step, it 
 awakened the sleeper ; she raised herself on her 
 arm and looked up with a dreamy and ab- 
 stracted air as Catharine, stretching forth her 
 hand, in tones low and tremulous thus addressed 
 her in the Ojebwa tongue, — 
 
 "The Great Spirit sends me to thee, O wo- 
 man of much sorrow ; he asks of thee a great 
 deed of mercy and goodness. Thou hast shed 
 blood, and he is angry. He bids thee to save 
 the life of an enemy — the blood of thy murd''«,red 
 husband flows in her veins. See that thou 
 disobey not the words that he commands." 
 
 She dropped the curtain and retired as she 
 had come, with noiseless step, and lay down 
 again in the tent beside Indiana. Her heart 
 beat as though it would burst its way through 
 her bosom. What had she done ? — what dared ? 
 
cs. 
 
 of the lodges 
 ine arose, — a 
 ler mind, and 
 n into execu- 
 right arch of 
 1 ; it was mild 
 ight, and cast 
 owed her the 
 be murdered 
 le lifted aside 
 it, and stood 
 her step, it 
 lerself on her 
 imy and ab- 
 ng forth her 
 lus addressed 
 
 > thee, wo- 
 ' thee a great 
 lou hast shed 
 thee to save 
 thy murdored 
 3e that thou 
 imands." 
 jtired as she 
 d lay down 
 Her heart 
 way through 
 -what dared ? 
 
 1 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 881 
 
 She had entered the presence of that terrible 
 ^oman alone, at the dead hour of night! she 
 had spoken bold and presumptuous words to .hat 
 strange being whom even her own people hardly 
 dared to approach uncalled-for I Sick with ter- 
 ror at the consequences of her temerity, Oatha- 
 me cast her trembling arms about the sleeping 
 Indian girl, and hiding her head in her bosom' 
 wept and prayed till sleep came over her wea^ 
 ried spirit. It was late when she awoke, She 
 J^s alone : the lodge was empty. A vague fear 
 r.oi.ed her .she hastily arose to seek her friend 
 X. ^VBS evident that some great event was in 
 preparation. The Indian men had put on the 
 war-paint and strange and ferocious eyes were 
 glancmg from beneath their shageT locks A 
 stake was driven m the centre ^tZtJ, 
 
 2T12 Tl "' ?' ''"''^ ^^^^^ '- *^-^' bound, 
 
 «tnn7 ^i" '' ""• ""'^"^'^ countenance she 
 stood. There was no sign of woman's fear in 
 
 sight of the death-dooming men who stood 
 round her, armed with their terrible weapons of 
 des ruction. Her thoughts seemed far'^away 
 perhaps they were with her dead kindred, wander^ 
 mg m t at happy landtowhich the Ind/arhope. 
 
 .__ ..^cucu to her, she was lookiag 
 
882 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 fir 
 
 to Him who has promised a crown of life to 
 Buch as believe in Hi? name. She saw not the 
 look of agony with which Catharine regarded 
 her ; and the poor girl, fuu of grief, sunk down 
 at the foot of a neighbouring tree, and burying 
 her face between her knees, wept and prayed — 
 oh I how fervently 1 A hope crept to her heart 
 — even while the doom of Indiana seemed dark- 
 est — that some good might yet accrue from her 
 visit to the wigwam of the Great Medicine 
 squaw. She knew that the Indians have great 
 belief in omens, and warnings, and spirits, both 
 good and evil ; she knew that her mysterious 
 appearance in the tent of the Mohawk's widow 
 would be construed by her into spiritual agency ; 
 and her heart was strengthened by this hope. 
 Yet just now there seems little reason to en- 
 courage hope : the war-whoop is given, the war- 
 dance is begun — first slow, and grave, and mea- 
 sured ; now louder and quicker, and more wild 
 become both sound and movement. But why 
 is it hushed again? See, a strange canoe ap- 
 pears on the river ; anon an old weather-beaten 
 man, with firm step, appears on the greensward 
 and approaches the area of the lodge. 
 
 The Bald Eagle greets him with friendly 
 courtesy ; the dance and death-song are hushed ; 
 a treaty is begun. It is for the deliverance of 
 the captives. The chief points to Catharine — 
 
^n of life to 
 saw not the 
 le regarded 
 
 sunk down 
 md. burying 
 id prayed — 
 to her heart 
 eemed dark- 
 ue from her 
 at Medicine 
 J have great 
 
 spirits, both 
 ' mysterious 
 iwk's widow 
 tual agency ; 
 •y this hope. 
 3ason to en- 
 ^en, the war- 
 ,ve, and mea- 
 id more wild 
 t. But why 
 ^e canoe ap- 
 ;ather-beaten 
 3 greensward 
 
 re. 
 
 vith friendly 
 
 J are hushed ; 
 
 eliverance of 
 
 Catharine — 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 333 
 
 she is free : his white brother may take her^ 
 she is his. But the Indian law of justice must 
 take its course ; the condemned, who raised her 
 hand against an Ojebwa chief, must die. In vain 
 were the tempting stores of scarlet cloth and 
 beads for the women, with powder and shot, 
 laid before the chief: the arrows of six warriors 
 were fitted to the string, and again the dance 
 and song commenced, as if, like the roll of the 
 drum and clangour of the trumpet, it were 
 necessary to the excitement of strong and pow- 
 erful feelings, and the suppression of all ten- 
 derer emotions. 
 
 And now a wild and solemn voice was h-^-ard, 
 unePTthly in its tones, rising above the yells of 
 those savage men. At that sound every cheek 
 became pale : it struck upon the ear as some 
 funeral wail. Was it the death-^ong of the 
 captive girl bound to that fearful stake ? No ; 
 for she stands unmoved, with eyes raised heav- 
 enward, and lips apart — 
 
 "^ "In still, but brave despair." 
 
 Shrouded in a mantle of dark cloth, her long 
 black hair unbound and streaming over her 
 shoulders, appears the Mohawk widow, the 
 daughter of the Ojebwa chief. The gathering 
 throng fall back as she approaches, awed by hei 
 sudden appearance among them. She stretches 
 
"'•T-imiiilllM'ilHiHiiiMI 
 
 ^u^^-<..^. .^^^m 
 
 l.-» «;'. 
 
 334 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 out a hand on which dark stains are visible — it 
 is the blood of her husband, sacriiiced by her on 
 that day of fearful deeds: it has never been 
 effaced. In the name of the Great Spirit she 
 claims the captive girl — the last of that devoted 
 tribe — to be delivered over to her will. Her 
 right to this remnant of her murdered husband's 
 family is acknowledged. A knife is placed in 
 her hand, while a deafening yell of triumph 
 bursts from the excited squaws, as this their great 
 high-priestess, as they deemed her, advanced to 
 the criminal. But it was not to shed the heart's 
 blood of the Mohawk girl, but to sever the 
 thongs that bound her to the deadly stake, for 
 which that glittering blade was drawn, and to 
 bid her depart in peace whithersoever she 
 would go. 
 
 Then, turning to the Bald Eagle, she thus 
 addressed him : " At the dead of night, when 
 the path of light spanned the sky, a vision 
 stood before mine eyes. It came from the 
 Great and Good Spirit, and bade me to set free 
 the last of a murdered race whose sun had gone 
 down in blood shed by my hand and by the 
 hands of my people. The vision told me that 
 if I did this my path should henceforth be peace, 
 and that I should go to the better land and be 
 at rest if I did this good deed." She then laid 
 
 m 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 335 
 
 her hands on the head of the young Mohawk, 
 blessed her, and enveloping herself in the dark 
 mantle, slowly retired back to her solitary tent 
 once more. 
 
 i 
 
836 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E8. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Hame, hame, hame, 
 Hamo I Boon shall be ; 
 Hame, hame, hame, 
 In mine own countrie." — Scotch BaUad. 
 
 OLD Jp'^ob and Catharine, wTio had been 
 rnute spectators of the scene so full of in 
 terest to them, now presented themselves before 
 the Ojebwa chief, and besought leave to depart. 
 The presents were again laid before him, and 
 this time were graciously accepted. Catharine 
 in distributing the beads and cloth took care 
 that the best portion should fall to the grand- 
 daughter of the chief, the pretty good-humoured 
 Snow-bird. The old man was not insensible to 
 the noble sacrifice which had been made by the 
 devoted Indiana, and he signified his forgive- 
 ness of her fault by graciously offering to adopt 
 her as his child, and to give her in marriage to 
 one of his grandsons, an elder brother of the 
 Snow-bird ; but the young girl modestly but 
 firmly refused this mark of favour, for her heart 
 yearned for those whose kindness had saved 
 her from death, and who had taught her to look 
 beyond the things of this world to a bnghter 
 
'^W' 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 887 
 
 ■Scotch Ballad. 
 
 and a better state of being. She said, » She 
 would go with her white sister, and pray to 
 God to bless her enemies, as the Great Spirit 
 had taught her to do." 
 
 It seems a lingering principle of good in 
 human nature, that the exercise of mercy and 
 virtue opens the heart to the enjoyment of 
 social happiness. The Indians, no longer worked 
 up by excitement to deeds of violence, seemed 
 disposed to bury the hatchet of hatred, and the 
 lodge was now filled with mirth, and the voice 
 of gladness, feasting, and dancing. A covenant 
 of peace and good- will was entered upon by old 
 Jacob and the chief, who bade Catharine tell 
 her brothers that from henceforth they should 
 be free to hunt the deer, fish, or shoot the wild 
 fowl of the lake, whenever they desired to do 
 so, "he the Bald Eagle had said so." 
 
 On the morrow, with the first dawn of day, 
 the old trapper was astir ; the canoe was ready, 
 with fresh cedar boughs strewed at the bottom! 
 A supply of parched rice and dried fish had 
 been presented by the Indian chief for the 
 voyage, that his white brother and the young 
 girls might not suffer from want. At sunrise 
 the old man led his young charges to the lodge 
 of the Bald Eagle, who took a kindly farewell 
 of them. " The Snow-bird" was sorrowful, and 
 
 her bright laughing eyes were dimmed with 
 29 
 
888 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 tears at parting with Catharine ; she was a 
 gentle loving thing, as soft and playful as the 
 tame fawn that nestled its velvet head against 
 her arm. She did not let Catharine depart 
 without many tokens of her regard, the work 
 of her own hands,— bracelets of porcupine quills 
 cut in fine pieces and strung in fanciful patterns,* 
 mocassins richly wrought, and tiny bark dishes 
 and boxes, such as might have graced a lady's 
 work-table, so rare was their workmanship. 
 
 Just as they were about to step into the 
 canoe, " the Snow-bird" reappeared, bearing a 
 richly worked bark box, " From the Great 
 Medicine," she said in a low voice, "to the 
 daughter of the Mohawk brave." The box con- 
 tained a fine tunic, soft as a lady's glove, em- 
 broidered and fringed, and a fillet of scarlet and 
 blue feathers, with the wings and breast of the 
 ■war-bird, as shoulder ornaments. It was a 
 token of reconciliation and good- will worthy of 
 a generous heart. 
 
 The young girl pressed the gifts to her bosom 
 and to her lips reverentially, and the hand that 
 brought them to her heart, as she said in her 
 native tongue, " Tell the Great Medicine I kiss 
 her in my heart, and pray that she may have 
 peace and joy till she departs for the spirit- 
 land." 
 
 * Appendix M. 
 
THE CANADIAN CEMOIS. 339 
 
 With joyful heart they bade adieu to the 
 tndmn lodges, and rejoiced i„ being once more 
 afloat on the bosom of the great river. To 
 Cathanno the events of the past hour seemed 
 I.lce a strange bewildering dream ; she longed 
 for the qmet repose of home; and how glally 
 d.d she hsten to that kind old :„an's plans for 
 restormg her brothers and he^elf to The arms 
 of their beloved parents. How often did she 
 say to herself, Oh that I had wings like a dove 
 for then would I flee aw.y and be at rest llTn 
 the shelter of that dear mother's arms whom she 
 now pined for with a painful yearning of the 
 ^ar^ that might well be called home sickness. 
 Jiut in spite of anxious wishes, the little party 
 were compelled to halt for the night some few 
 mil^ above the lake. There is on the eastern 
 
 clothed with wild cherries, hawthorns, and pine^ 
 trees, just where a creek half hidden by dder 
 and cranberry bashes, works its way below the 
 shodder of the little eminence ; ti.is creek grows 
 broader and becomes a little stream, throu Jh 
 which the hunters sometimes paddle their elnoj 
 
 Croo:^s°Eapir*^'"^^^^^''°^'^^'^-- 
 
 To this creek old Jacob steered his light craft. 
 
 and bidding the girbcoUect afewdrvs«l?„^ 
 
 Branches for an evemng fire on the sheite^^ 
 
 1 ii^u: J 
 
840 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E8. 
 
 Bide of the little bank, he soon lighted the pile 
 into a cheerful blaze by the aid of birch bark, 
 he hunter's tinder— a sort of fungus that is 
 found in the rotten oak and maple-trees— and a 
 knife and flint ; he then lifted the canoe, and 
 having raised it on its side, by means of two 
 small stakes which he cut from a bush hard by, 
 then spread down his ^^iffalo robe on the dry 
 grass. " There is a tent fit for n queen to sleep 
 under, mes ch6r.es fiUes," he said, eyeing his 
 arrangements for their night shelter with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 He then proceeded to bait his line, and in a 
 few minutes had a dish of splendid bass ready 
 for the coals. Catharine selected a large flat 
 block of limestone on which the fish when 
 broiled was laid ; but old Jacob opened his wide 
 mouth and laughed when she proceeded to lay 
 her bush table with large basswood leaves for 
 platters. Such nicety he * rofessed was unusual 
 on a hunter's table. He was too old a forester 
 to care how his food was dished, ^^o that he had 
 wherewithal to satisfy his hunger. 
 
 Many were the merry tales he told and the 
 songs he sung, to wile away the time, till the 
 daylight faded from the sky, and the deep blue 
 heavens were studded with bright stars, which 
 were mirrored in countless hosts deep, deep down 
 in that calm, waveless river, while thouaauds of 
 
jhted the pile 
 if birch bark, 
 ungus that ia 
 3-trees — and a 
 be canoe, and 
 means of two 
 bush hard by, 
 36 on the dry 
 peen to sleep 
 d, eyeing his 
 Iter with great 
 
 line, and in a 
 [id bass ready 
 id a large flat 
 ;he fish when 
 pened his wide 
 oceeded to lay 
 Dod leaves for 
 d was unusual 
 old a forester 
 jO that he had 
 
 • 
 
 3 told and the 
 s time, till the 
 [ the deep blue 
 ht stars, which 
 eep, deep down 
 Q tiiousaudd oi 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 B41 
 
 8 
 
 fireflies lighted up the dark recesses of the 
 forest's gloom. High in the upper air the hollow 
 booming of the night-hawk was heard at inter- 
 vals, and the wild cry of the night-owl from a 
 dead branch, shouting to its fellow, woke the 
 silence of that lonely river scene. 
 
 The old trr , per, .- t-etched before the crackling 
 fire, smoked h'^ pipe or hummed some French 
 voyageur's son,:. BcMieath the shelter of the 
 canoe soundly ■ 'epi the two girls; the dark 
 cheek of the Indian girl pillowod on the arm of 
 her fairer companion, her thick tresses of raven 
 hair mingling with the silken ringlets of the 
 white maiden. They were a lovely pair— one 
 fair aa morning, the other dark as night. 
 
 How lightly did they spring from their low 
 bed, awakened by the early song of the forest 
 birds 1 The light curling mist hung in fleecy 
 volumes upon the river, like a flock of sheep at 
 rest— the tinkling sound of the heavy dew-drops 
 fell in mimic showers upon the stream. See 
 that red squirrel, how lightly he r.;.i3 along that 
 fallen trunk— how furtively he glances with 
 his sharp bright eye at the intruders on his 
 sylvan haunts! Hark! there is a rustling 
 among the leaves— what strange creature works 
 its way to the shore ? A mud-turtle— it turns, 
 ftnd now is trotting along the little sandy ridge 
 to some suniiy spot, where, half buned, it may 
 
 29"* 
 
S42 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 lie unseen near the edge of the river. See that 
 musk-rat, how boldly he plunges into the stream, 
 and, with his oar-like tail, stems the current 
 till he gains in safety the sedges on the other 
 side. 
 
 What gurgling sound is that ? — it attracts the 
 practised ear of the old hunter. What is that 
 object which floats so steadily down the middle 
 of the stream, and leaves so bright a line in its 
 wake ? — it is a noble stag. Look at the broad 
 chest with which he breasts the water so gal- 
 lantly ; see how proudly he carries his antlered 
 head ; he has no fear in those lonely solitudes — 
 he has never heard the crack of the hunter's 
 rifle — he heeds not the sharp twang of that bow- 
 string, till the arrow rankles in his neck, and 
 the crimson flood dyes the water around him — 
 he turns, but it is only to present a surer mark 
 for the arrow of the old hunter's bow ; and now 
 the noble beast turns to bay, and the canoe is 
 rapidly launched by the hand of the Indian girl 
 ■ — her eye flashes with the excitement — her 
 whole soul is in the chase — she stands up in the 
 cane J, and steers it full upon the wounded buck, 
 while a shower of blows are dealt upon his head 
 and neck with the paddle. Catharine buries her 
 face in her hands — she cannot bear to look upon 
 the sufferings of the noble animal. She will 
 never make a huntress — her heart is cast in too 
 
 
 M- 
 
i. 
 
 T. See that 
 3 the stream, 
 the current 
 •n the other 
 
 I attracts the 
 Vhat is that 
 L the middle 
 I a line in its 
 it the broad 
 ater so gal- 
 his antlered 
 T solitudes — 
 the hunter's 
 of that bow- 
 is neck, and 
 ound him — 
 surer mark 
 w ; and now 
 ;he canoe is 
 3 Indian girl 
 tement — her 
 ds up in the 
 unded buck, 
 pon his head 
 le buries her 
 ;o look upon 
 1. She will 
 B cast iu too 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 843 
 
 soft a mould. See ! they have towed the deer 
 ashore, and Jacob is in all his glory,— the little 
 squaw is an Indian at heart— see with what ex- 
 pertness she helps the old man; acr now the 
 great business is completed, and the venison is 
 stowed away at the bottom of the canoe— they 
 wash their hands in the river and come at 
 Cathanne's summons to eat her br .kfast. 
 
 The sun is now rising high above the pine- 
 trees, the morning mist is also rising and roll- 
 ing off like a golden veil as it catches those 
 glorious rays-the whole earth seems awaken- 
 ing into new life-the dew has brightened every 
 leaf and washed each tiny flower-cup-the pines 
 and balsams give out their resinous fragrance 
 —the aspeps flutter and dance in the morning 
 breeze and return a mimic shower of dew- 
 drops to the.stream-the shores become lower 
 and flatter-the trees less lofty and more mossy 
 —the stream expands and wide beds of rushes 
 spread out on either side-what beds of snowy 
 water-hhes-hows plendid the rose tint of those 
 perseicarias that glow so brightly in the morn- 
 ing sun-the rushes look like a green mea- 
 dow, but the treacherous water lies deep be- 
 ow their grassy leaves-the deer delights in 
 these verdant aquatic fields, and see what flocks 
 of red-wmgs rise from among them as the canoe 
 
344 
 
 "i-:^' 
 
 m 
 
 mi 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUS0E9. 
 
 passes near — their bright shoulder-knots glance 
 like flashes of lightning in the sunbeams. 
 
 This low swamp J island, filled with drift- 
 wood, these grey hoary trees, half choked and 
 killed with grey moss and lichens — those strag- 
 gling alders and black ash look melancholy— 
 they are like premature old age, grey-headed 
 youths. That island divides the channel of 
 the river — the old man takes the nearest, the 
 lef^ hand, and now taey are upon the broad 
 Eice Lake, and Catharine wearies her eye to 
 catch the smoke of the shanty rising among 
 the trees — one after another the islands steal 
 out into view — the capes, and bays, and shores 
 of the northern side are growing less distinct. 
 Yon hollow bay, where the beaver has hidden 
 till now, backed by that bold sweep of hills 
 that look in the distance as if only covered 
 with green ferns, with here and th'ere a tall tree, 
 stately as a pine or oak— that is the spot where 
 Louis saw the landing of the Indians— now a 
 rising village— Gore's Landing. On yon lofty 
 hill now stands the village church; its white 
 tower rising amongst the trees forms a charm- 
 ing object from the lake ; and there, a little 
 higher up, not far from the plank road, now 
 stand pretty rural cottages — one of these be- 
 longs to the spirited proprietor of the village 
 that bears his name. That tasteful garden 
 
snots glance 
 earns. 
 
 with drift- 
 choked and 
 •those strag- 
 elanchoiy — 
 jrey-headed 
 channel of 
 nearest, the 
 I the broad 
 her eye to 
 sing among 
 slands steal 
 and shores 
 ^ess distinct, 
 has hidden 
 sep of hills 
 ily covered 
 3 a tall tree, 
 spot where 
 ans — now a 
 a yon lofty 
 ; its white 
 as a charm- 
 3re, a little 
 road, now 
 if these be- 
 the village 
 ful garden 
 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 345 
 
 before the white cottage, to the right, is Colonel / 
 Brown s, and there are pretty farms and cul- 
 tivated spots ; but silence and loneliness reigned 
 there at the time of which I write. 
 
 Where those few lark pines rise above the 
 oak groves like the spires of churches in a 
 crowded city, is Mount Ararat.* The Indirn 
 girls steei^straight between the islands for that 
 ark of refuge, and Catharine's eyes are dimmed 
 with grateful tears as she pictures to herself 
 the joyful greeting in store for her. lu the 
 overflowings of her gladness she seizes the old 
 man's rugged hand and kisses it, and flings her 
 arms about the Indian girl and presses her to 
 her heart, when the canoe has touched the old 
 well-remembered landing-place, and she finds 
 herself so near, so very near her lost home. 
 How precious are such moments— how few we 
 have in life— they are created from oui very 
 sorrows—without our cares our joys would be 
 less lively; but we have no time to moralize. 
 Catharine flies with the speed of a young fawn, 
 to climb the steep clifl-like shoulder of that 
 steep bank, and now, out of breath, stands at 
 the threshold of her log-house— how neat and 
 nice it looks compared with he Indians' tents 
 •—the little field of corn is green and flourish- 
 ing—there is Hector's axe in a newly-cut log 
 
 * Appendix N. 
 
 "I. 
 
'i'^iimmui^iu 
 
 846 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 —it is nigh noon—the boys ought to have 
 been there taking their mid-day meal, but the 
 door is shut. Catharine lifts the wooden latch, 
 and steps in— the embers are nearly burned out 
 to a handful of grey ashe.^— old Wolfe is not 
 there— all is silen^-and Catharine sits down to 
 still the beating of her heart and await the 
 coming up of her slower companions, and glad- 
 dens her mind with the hope that her brother 
 and Louis will soon be home— her eye wanders 
 over every old familiar object— all things seem 
 much as she had left them, only the maize is in 
 the ear and the top feather waves gracefully 
 with the summer breeze— it promises an abun- 
 dant crop ; but that harvest is nut to be gathered 
 by the hands of the young planters— it was 
 left to the birds of the air and the beasts of 
 the field — to those humble reapers who sow 
 not, neither do they gather into barns, for 
 their heavenly Father feedeth them. While 
 the two girls busied themselves in preparing a 
 fine roast of venison, old Jacob stalked away 
 over the hills to search for the boys, and it was 
 not long before he returned with Hector and 
 Louis. 
 
 I must not tell tales, or I might say what 
 tears of joy were mingled with the rapturous 
 greetings with which Louis embraced his be- 
 loved cousin ; or I might tell th 
 
 
to have 
 , but the 
 en latch, 
 rned out 
 fe is not 
 down to 
 wait the 
 nd giad- 
 ■ brother 
 wanders 
 igs seem 
 iize is in 
 •acefully 
 in abun- 
 gathered 
 —it was 
 aasts of 
 ho sow 
 rns, for 
 While 
 )aring a 
 i away 
 . it was 
 tor and 
 
 J what 
 jturous 
 his be* 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRLSOES. 
 
 347 
 
 dush that warmed the dusky cheek of the young 
 Indian, and the light that danced in her soft 
 black eyes, owed its origin to the kiss that was 
 pressed on her red lips by her white brother. 
 Nor will we say whose hand held hers so lono- 
 in his while Catharine related the noble sacri- 
 fice made for her sake, and the perils encoun- 
 tered by the devoted Indiana — whose eyes were 
 moistened with the tears as the horrors of that 
 fearful trial were described — or who stole out 
 alone over the hills, and sat him down in the 
 hush and silence of the summer night to think 
 of the acts of heroism displayed by that un- 
 tar^ht Indian girl, and to dream a dream of 
 youthful love ; but with these things, my young 
 readers, we have nothing to do. 
 ^ "And now, my children," said old Jacob, 
 looking round the little dwelling, "have you 
 made up ;> our minds to live and die here on 
 the shores of this lake, or do you desire again 
 to behold your father's home ? Do your young 
 hearts yearn after the hearth of your child- 
 hood?" 
 
 "After our fathers' home!" was Louis's em- 
 phatic reply. " Aftpr the home of our child- 
 dood !" was Catharine's earnest ansvv'-^r. Hector's 
 lips echoed his sister's words, whil.. a furtive 
 iroubled glance fell upon the orphan stranger ; 
 but her timid eye was raised to his young face 
 
 UB 
 
fHE CANADIAN CRUSOlii 
 
 with a trusting look, £> she would iiavo said, 
 " Thj home shaJl be my homo, thy God my 
 God." 
 
 " Well, mon ami, I behave, if my old mem- 
 cry fails me not, I can itriko the India a indl 
 that used to lead to the Cold Sprin^/s *— i^r the 
 pine hills. It will not be difficult for an old 
 trapper to find his way." 
 
 "For my part, I shall not leave this lovelv 
 spot without regret," said Hector. "It would 
 be a glorious place for a settlement— all that 
 one could desire— hill, and valley, and plain, 
 wood and water. Well, I will try and persuade 
 my father to leave the Cold Springs, and come 
 and settle hereabouts. It would be delightful, 
 would it not, Catharine? esp^^cially now we are 
 friends with the Indians." 
 
 With their heads full of pleasant schemes for 
 the future, our young folks laid them down that 
 night to rest. In the morning they rose, packed 
 up such portable articles as they could manage 
 to carry, and with fuU hearts sat down to take 
 their last meal in their home— -in that home 
 which had sheltered them so long— and then, 
 with one accord, they knelt down upon its 
 hearth, so soon to be left in loneliness, and 
 breathed a prayer to Him who lad preserved 
 them thus far in their events ves, and then 
 they journeyed forth once mor iv.^ the v/ilder- 
 
iiavo said. 
 Y God my 
 
 ' old me:Ti« 
 idiaii iT'ail 
 ;s ♦■•ver tlia 
 for an old 
 
 bis lovelj 
 ' It would 
 — all that 
 ind plain, 
 i persuade 
 and come 
 ielightful, 
 >w we are 
 
 liemes for 
 lown that 
 ie, packed 
 i manage 
 1 to take 
 lat home 
 md then, 
 upon its 
 less, and 
 )reserved 
 and then 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 849 
 
 ness. There was one, however, of their little 
 band they left behind : this was the faithful old 
 dog Wolfe. He had pined during the absence 
 of his mistress, and only a few days before 
 Catharine's return he had crept to the seat she 
 was wont to occupy, and there died. Louis and 
 Hector buried him, not without great regret, 
 beneath the group of birch-trees on the brow of 
 the slope near the corn-field. 
 30 
 
m 
 
 &50 
 
 THE CANADIAN CBUSOES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " I will arise, and go to my fatlier."_iV^e«» Testamme. 
 
 TT is the hour of sunset ; the sonorous sound 
 of the catrJe bells is heard, as they slowly 
 emerge from the steep hill path that leads to 
 Max jell and Louis Perron's little clearing; 
 the dark shadows are lengthening that those 
 wood-crowned hills cast over that sunny spot 
 an oasis m the vast forest desert that man ad' 
 venturous, courageous man, has hewed' for 
 himself m the wilderness. The little flock are 
 feedmg among the blackened stumps of the 
 uncleared chopping; those timbers have lain 
 thus untouched for two long years; the hand 
 was wantmg that should have given help in 
 legging and burning them up. The wheat is 
 npe for the sickle, and the silken beard of the 
 corn IS waving like a fair girl's tresses in the 
 evemng breeze. The tinkling fall of the cold 
 spring in yonder bank falls soothingly on the 
 ear Who comes from that low-roofed log cabin 
 to bring m the pitcher of water, that pal^, care- 
 worn, shadowy figure that slowly moves along 
 the green pasture, as one without hope or joy • 
 her black hair is shared with silver, her cheek 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 351 
 
 is pale as wax, and her hand is so thin, it looks 
 as though the light might be seen through, if 
 she held it towards the sun? It is the heart- 
 broken mother of Catharine and Hector Max 
 well. Her heart has been pierced with many 
 sorrows; she cannot yet forget the children of 
 her love, her first-born girl and boy. Who 
 comes to meet her, and with cheerful voio« 
 chides her for the tear that seems ever to bo 
 Imgermg on that pale cheek,-yet the prema- 
 ture furrows on that broad, sunburnt, manly 
 brow speak, too, of inward care ? It is the 
 father of Hector and Catharine. Those two 
 fine, healthy boys, in homespun blouses, that 
 are talking so earnestly, as they lean across the 
 rail fence of the little wheat-field, are Kenneth 
 and Donald; their sickles are on their arms; 
 they have been reaping. They hear the sudden 
 barking of Bruce and Wallace, the hounds, and 
 turn to see what causes the agitation they dis- 
 play. 
 
 An old man draws near; be has a knapsack 
 on his shoulders, which he casts down on the 
 corner of thestoup; he is singing a line of an 
 old French ditty ; he raps at the open door. The 
 Highlander bids him welcome, but starts with 
 glad surprise as his hand is grasped by the old 
 trapper. 
 
 '' Ha, Jacob Morelie, it is many a weary year 
 
tu2 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 m 
 
 n 
 
 ■ I: 
 
 since jour step turned this way." The tear 
 stood in the eye of the soldier as he spoke. 
 
 " How is ma ch^re m6re, and the young ones?" 
 asked the -'1 in a husky voice— his kind 
 
 heart was full. " Can you receive me, and those 
 I have with me, for the night ? A spare corner, 
 a shake-down, will do ; we travellers in the bush 
 are nowise nice." 
 
 " The best we have, and kindly welcome ; it i 
 gude for saer een to see you, Jacob. How mar/ 
 are ye in all ?" 
 
 " There are just four, besides myself,— young 
 people ; I fo md them where they had been long 
 living, un a lonely lake, and I p^: .uaded them 
 to come with me." 
 
 The str )ng features of the Highlander worked 
 convulsively as he drew his faded blue bonnet 
 over his eyes. » Jacob, did ye ken that we lost 
 our eldest bairns, some three summers sirce ?" 
 he faltered, ' i a broken voice. 
 
 " n'he L( 1 in his mercy has restored them 
 to you, Donald, by my hand," said the trapper. 
 
 "Let me see, let me see my children. To 
 nim be the pi^ise and the glorj," ejaculated the 
 pious father, raising his bonnot revfrently from 
 his head; "a . i holy and blessed be his name 
 for ever ^ thought not to have seen this day. 
 Oh ! Ca ^E my dear wife, this joy will kill 
 you." 
 
' The tear 
 spoke. 
 3ungones?" 
 e — his kind 
 e, and those 
 pare corner, 
 in the bush 
 
 ilcome ; it i 
 How mar/ 
 
 3lf,— young 
 i been long 
 laded them 
 
 der worked 
 )lue bonnet 
 hat we lost 
 jra sirce?" 
 
 ;ored them 
 le trapper. 
 Idren. To 
 3ulated the 
 ently from 
 5 his name 
 1 thjs day. 
 y will kill 
 
 
 
 
"'IN g 
 
 PP 
 
THE CANADIAN CRUSOEa 853 
 
 In a moment his children were enfolded in 
 his arms. It is a mistaken idea that joy kills 
 It IS a life restorer. Could you, my yonn^^ 
 readers, have seen how quickly the bloom of 
 health began to reappear on the faded cheek of 
 that pale mother, and how soon that dim eye re- 
 gained its bright sparkle, you would have said 
 that joy does not kill. 
 
 "But where is Louis, dear Louis, our nephew, 
 where is he ?" i' °w, 
 
 Louis, whose impetuosity was not to be re- 
 strained by the caution of old Jacob, had cleared 
 the log fence at a bound, had hastily embraced 
 his cousms Kenneth and Donald, and in five 
 minutes more had rushed into his father's cottage 
 and wept his joy iu the arms of father, mother 
 and sisters by turns, before old Jacob had 
 introduced the impatient Hector and Catharine 
 to their father. 
 
 ^ "But while joy is in our little dwelling, who 
 IS this that sits aparc upon that stone by the lo^ 
 fence, her face bent sadly down upon her knees 
 her long raven hair shading her features as with 
 a veil, asked the Highlander Maxwell, pointing 
 as he spoke to the spot where, unnoticed and 
 unsharing in the joyful recognition, sat the poor 
 Indian girl. I'here was no paternal embrace 
 or her, no tender mother's kiss imprinted on ^ 
 ^ — J vx^veis. «iiu pcusive Diow — she was 
 
 
 ft 
 
■«^.« 
 
 I'f nil 
 
 m 
 
 354 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 alone and desolate, in the midst of that scene of 
 gladness. 
 
 "It is my Indian sister," said Catharine, 
 "she also must be your child;" and Hector 
 iurried to Indiana and half leading, half carry- 
 ing the reluctant girl, brought her to his parents 
 and bade them to be kind to and cherish the 
 young stranger, to whom they all owed so 
 much. 
 
 I will not dwell upon the universal joy that 
 filled that humble dwelling, or tell the delight of 
 Kenneth and Donald at the return of their lost 
 brother and sister, for my story hurries to a close. 
 
 Time passes on — ^years, long years have gone 
 by since the return of the lost children to their 
 homes, and many changes have those years 
 effected. The log-houses have fallen to decay — 
 a growth of young pines, a waste of emerald 
 turf with the charred logs that once formed 
 part of the enclosure, now, hardly serve to mark 
 out the old settlement — no trace or record re- 
 mains of the first breakers of the bush, another 
 race occupy the ground. The traveller as he 
 passes along on that smooth turnpike road that 
 leads from Coburg to Cold Springs, and from 
 thence to Gore's Landing, may notice a green 
 waste by the road-side on either hand, and 
 fancy that thereabouts our Canadian Crusoes' 
 home once stood — he sees th^ lofty wood-crowned 
 
ihat scene of 
 
 I Catharine, 
 and Hector 
 
 ;, half carry- 
 
 ) his parents 
 cherish the 
 
 ill owed so 
 
 fsal joy that 
 le delight of 
 of their lost 
 ies to a close. 
 ■s have gone 
 iren to their 
 those years 
 a to decay — 
 
 of emerald 
 ince formed 
 rve to mark 
 r record re- 
 lish, another 
 speller as he 
 ce road that 
 s, and from 
 tice a green 
 
 hand, and 
 an Crusoes' 
 >od-crowned 
 
 THE CXxVADIAN CRUSOES. 355 
 
 hill and sees in spring-time, for in summer it is 
 hidden by the luxuriant foliage, the little forest 
 creek, and he may, if thirsty, taste of the pure 
 fresh icy water, as it still wells out from a sprint 
 in the steep bank, rippling through the little 
 cedar-trough that Louis Perron placed there for 
 the better speed of his mother when fillmc her 
 watering. All else is gone. And what wrolight 
 the change ?-a few words will suffice to tell 
 Some travelling fur merchants brought the news 
 to Donald Maxwell, that a party of Highlanders 
 had made a settlement above Montreal, and 
 among them were some of his kindred. The old 
 soldier resolved to join them, and it was not 
 hard to prevail upon his brother-in-law to 
 accompany him, for they were all now weary 
 of Imng so far from their fellow-men; and 
 bidding farewell to the little log-houses at Cold 
 Springs, they now journeyed downwards to the 
 new settlement, where they were gladly received 
 their long experience of the country makincr 
 their company a most valuable acquisition to the 
 new colonists. 
 
 Not long after the Maxwells took possession 
 ot a grant of land, and cleared and built for 
 themselves and their family. That year Hector, 
 now a fine indusuious young man, presented at 
 the baptismal font as a candidate for baotism 
 liie Indian girl, and then received at the altar 
 
 jr 
 
 '^^>T 
 
856 
 
 THE CANADIAN CRUSOES. 
 
 his newly baptized bride. As to Catharine 
 and Louis, I am not sufficiently skilled in the 
 laws of their church to tell how the difficulty 
 of nearness of kin was obviated, but they were 
 married on the same day as Hector and Indiana, 
 and lived a happy and prosperous life; and 
 often by their fireside would delight their chil- 
 dren by recounting the history of their wander* 
 ings on the Rice Lake Plains. 
 
IS. 
 
 to Catharine 
 killed in the 
 the difficulty 
 ut they were 
 and Indiana, 
 us life; and 
 ht their chil- 
 ;heir wander* 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 A.,-— Preface. Page 9. 
 
 Sarah Campbell, of Windsor, who was lost in the 
 woods on the 11th of August, 1848, returned to her 
 home on the Slst, having been absent twenty-one 
 days. A friend has sent us a circumstantial account 
 of ber wanderings, of the efforts made in her behalf, 
 and her return home, from which we condense the 
 tollowmg statements :— 
 
 It appears that on the 11th of Augiist, in company 
 V.th two friends, she went fishing on the north branch 
 of Wmdsor-orook ; and that on attempting to return 
 she became separated from hex companions, who 
 returned to her mother's, the Widow Campbell 
 expecting to find her at home. Several of her neigh' 
 hours searched for her during the night, without success. 
 ITie search was continued during Sunday, Monday 
 and Tuesday, by some fifty or sixty individuals, and 
 although her tracks, and those of a dog which accom- 
 panied her, were discovered, no tidings of the eirl 
 ... ...„..„ j,,^, ^ geneitti s^xnprtthy for the afflicted 
 
 widow and her lost daughter was vAC^ted, and not with- 
 
 I 
 
S58 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 from Wmdsor and the neighbouring townships of 
 B.ompto„ Shipton, Melbourne, D^-ha™, oLd 
 
 ol tr t' '^°"™''""'"' "'*• -^ D^w^ll, to Jd 
 out «„h provisions and implements for cam„i„, i„ 
 th woods, m search of the girl, which was Cup 
 without mtermission for about fourteen days when h 
 
 ITiZl- r" 7- ""'"' '-^ '-P-ion'tlat he 
 must have died, either from starvation, or the in 
 
 cessantly for nearly a week of the time. On the Slst 
 ^af -'--dhome from MassaohuseU^and 
 
 returned thT "V.*''" ""^"='' *'' -"«>> b«' 
 iovThat 1 r™"' ''''^' ""'^ '^"^^ "> "-eir^reat 
 
 ven^nfe'- ""' '"' '""'^ '"'' ^-^ ''omf the 
 
 evening previous. 
 
 a vfeul'"w"f "'' ^"" 'f "• "^ oo^^Po^-Jent made 
 r» ! Tf "'^ ^""P'''"' "^ '■^"^ fl-O" her daughter 
 the story of her wanderings. She was found, as mi.It 
 
 but q„, e rat onal, as it seems she had been durin J 
 the whole period of her absence. From her story hf 
 following particulars were gathered ■_ ^ 
 
 « ^^l^"l 'T "" ™' ■'"■^""^ fro'" home down 
 Open Brooke," to a meadow, about a mile distant 
 
 from whereshehadlefther companions, which shmrs. 
 took for what ,s called the " O.ias opening," a mile 
 
 distant in the opposite direction. 0„ Sabbtth m"™! 
 mg, knowing that she was lost, and having heard that 
 
 eook to follow the sun during the day. In the mom. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 869 
 
 ing she directed her steps towards the F«,f 
 the North Branch, mistaking i t ^Open Cw* 
 and travelled fto,",o„« . ^ Brooke," 
 
 direction her ™v I •" """"'"* " ' '"""-.east 
 
 Mond^^oS: terror :tr ™ 
 
 from home "^^ " ''^ ^^gh<= "^'^^^ 
 
 men, and their reeentlv ZmT ^ ''"''"'='' "^ 
 
 multitude. Of peo7e trrse:r;rh"T "■^' 
 
 »o .iving pe.o„, and heard no so™d of t^^tt^r 
 other noise, eieept the report of a rrun ./ i , , 
 a brook, early on m„riy mornir'tt 7. ' 
 of her being lost. Thinking th 2 o hlv , ^^ 
 
 ^^PPosedtwj—tt^i^rCTr?; 
 
 L. I'/^-'r!^^' ^'" -■»« t" *^ camp :^2 
 - »" »;;. ru-ea, but not until after to oocupant. 
 
 I 
 
S60 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 had left to renew their search for her. This camp 
 was about four miles from the great meadow, where 
 she spent the Sabbath previous. There she found a 
 fire, dried her clothes, and found a partridge's gizzard, 
 which she cooked and ate, and laid down and slept,' 
 remaining about twenty-four hours. 
 
 In her travels she came across several other camps, 
 some of which she visited several times, particularly 
 where she found names cut upon trees, and another 
 in which was a piece of white paper. Except three 
 or four nights spent in these camps, she slept upon 
 the ground, sometimes making a bed of moss, and 
 endeavouring to shelter herself from the drenching 
 rains with spruce boughs. For the first two weeks 
 she suffered much from the cold, skivering all night, 
 and sleeping but little. The last week she said she 
 had got " toughened," and did not shiver. When first 
 lost she had a large trout, which was the only food 
 she ate, except choke-berries, the first week, and part 
 of this she gave to her dog, which remained with her 
 for a week, day and night. The cherries, which she 
 ate greedily, swallowing the stones, she found injured 
 her health ; and for the last two weeks she lived upon 
 cranberries and wood sorrel. While the dog re- 
 rnained with her, she constantly shared her food with 
 him, but said she was glad when he left her, as it was 
 much trouble to find him food. 
 
 On Thursday of last week she followed the south 
 towards the junction witb the north branch, where it 
 appeared she had been before, but could not ford the 
 stream ; and in the afternoon of Fridav opoaaed th« 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 \r nrciatukA fh* 
 
 361 
 
 ^teps toward, home, .he re^eiMTS'rlT'V'' 
 a mile from her mnfl » M'Dale's, about 
 
 «ve „ue3itrht7;:7;:;f,t''^''"^™'''"<' 
 
 ™g the day HerTl ? ""^ **" •"""=» d"" 
 
 whfn she wt of ^d h ^eTT^ "" "' ""' ''"^• 
 friend, almost as one rati ' / ""'"'""^ ""^ •■'' 
 feet and ankles lervTrv T *' "'^^''- "«' 
 '»ted; but, stran^to Z^r r'^""'" ■"■" ''^ 
 
 wMe, .-th the ie;:iz:^jzr '-'' 
 ^eiTt^s^:: ^f r """^ - ^-t the ^, 
 
 heartened, elpecti g to TerlrTr'l' *° ''^" *- 
 by not di«coL„g'an7ne~ l"? f° '"''^ 
 W given over sefrC LZ d' " *' P'°P'° 
 
 "b ". un tne morning of Vrl^^,, -i, 
 strongly inclined to give , „ J r ", ^ *^ ™ 
 but the hope of seeinf her ' ofu !■ ^T ^"^ ^'''■^ 
 make one more effort to f f ^*"»"'ated her to 
 sn^^ssful. wlT^Zt wa™' *" ^'°'^^ 
 feverish excitement and g;n ,1 JI " " ''*'^ "^ 
 system a,d greatly emafatd ' w tr^rew! °' "■° 
 bu perfectly sane and collected ™"*' 
 
 o»eday,Lposedar'r::str::^-r 
 
 othi 
 
 -a^e that *e.o„, ,„—•/•-- 
 
 G Denies, it is also very 
 
 a VTA Vt A^^ . ' M "^ 
 
 on 
 
362 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the tracks of those in search of her, sleeping in the 
 camps, and endeavouring to follow their tracks home, 
 and not have heard any of their numerous trumpets, 
 or been seen by any of the hundreds of persons who 
 were in search for her. 
 
 A more dismal result than the deprivations endured 
 by Sarah Campbell is the frightful existence of a hu- 
 man creature, called, in the American papers, the 
 '' "Wild Man of the far West." From time to time 
 these details approach the terrific, of wild men who 
 have grown up from chilhood in a state of destitution 
 in *^e interminable forests, especially of this one, 
 wh' for nearly a quarter of a century, has occasion- 
 ally been seen, and then either forgotten, or supposed 
 to be the mere creation of the beholder's brain. But 
 it appears that he was, in March, 1850, encountered 
 by Mr. Hamilton, of Greene County, Arkansas, when 
 hunting. The wild man, was, likewise, chasing his 
 prey. A herd of cattle fled past Mr. Hamilton and 
 his party, in an agony of ierror, pursued by a giant, 
 bearing a dreadful semblance to humanity. His face 
 and shoulders were enveloped with long streaming 
 hair, his body was entirely hirsute, his progression 
 was by great jumps of twelve or thirteen feet at a 
 leap. The creature turned and gazed earnestly on 
 the hunters, and fled into the depths of the forest, 
 where he was lost to view. His foot-prints were 
 thirteen inches long. Mr. Hamilton published the 
 description of the savage man in the Memphis In- 
 quirer. Afterwards several planters deposed to hav. 
 ing, at times, for many year*, seen this apneAranoe= 
 
sleeping in the 
 r tracks home, 
 rous trumpets, 
 f persons who 
 
 itions endured 
 tence of a hu- 
 n papers, the 
 
 time to tune 
 rvald men who 
 
 of destitution 
 ■ of this one, 
 , has occasion- 
 n, or supposed 
 's brain. But 
 ), encountered 
 rknnsas, when 
 ), chasing his 
 Hamilton and 
 d by a giant, 
 ty. His face 
 ng streaming 
 is progression 
 een feet at a 
 
 earnestly on 
 of the forest, 
 t-prints were 
 )ublished tb© 
 Memphis In- 
 posed to hav. 
 ) annearance^ 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 363 
 
 1811, now ZZtZT^" "' *° '""'•9"'"'« '» 
 living, even massisted „ 2 m" ^"■'°'''°" "'"" 
 
 «l*o„ghwe doubt .hatanyt^rcZ ~"""'"'' 
 progress by leaps instead nf-h / "^ '""'"^ 
 
 taman insttoot tUn.^ff^P"''' """"''»■•'<' th« 
 the Arkan:\ ' „" S. s^' '"^ "'" »"" °' 
 o«ng.„„tang,„.;hrn,pl:tr' ° '^"'" °' *« 
 
 B — ^Page 83. 
 ""''^' Volf l<ou,er m«, .tani,.' 
 
 ''-buntb;t;:^e2":?;:pi;;t:i"i 
 
 f"^, or fanciful prospect resid^n.. • ? *''^* 
 
 U.— Page 123. 
 ** • . . as civilization au^ancea." 
 Formerly the Rice Lake Plams abound«^ i„ a... 
 iru^ves, bears, racoons, wolverines. foxes.'and w^d 
 
 I 
 
 «fc>V', 
 
864 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 animals of many kinds. Even a few years ago, and 
 bears and wolves were not unfrequent in their depre- 
 dations; and the ravines sheltered herds of deer; but 
 now the sight of the former is a thing of rare occur- 
 tence, and the deer are scarcely to be seen. So 
 changed is this lovely wilderness, that green pastures 
 and yellow corn-fields now meet the eye on every 
 Bide, and the wild beasts retire to the less frequented 
 depths of the forest. 
 
 From the undulating surface, the alternations of 
 high hills, deep valleys, and level table-lands, with 
 the wide prospect they command, the Rice Lake 
 Plains still retain their picturesque beauty, which 
 Cfmnot be marred by the hand of the settler even be he 
 ever so devoid of taste ; and many of those who have 
 chosen it as their home are persons uf taste and re 
 finement, who delight m adding to the beauty of that 
 which Nature had left so fair. 
 
 D.— Page 166, note. 
 
 "I will now," says our Indian historian, "narrate a 
 single circumstance, which will convey a correct idea 
 of the sufferings to which Indians were often exposed. 
 To obtain furs of different kinds for the traders, we 
 had to travel far into the woods, and remain there 
 the whole winter. Once we left Rice Lake in the 
 fall, and ascended the river in canoes as far as Bel- 
 mont Lake. There were five families about to hunt 
 with my father on his ground. The winter began to 
 
386 
 
 «-><) pork ; and whTn IL ^ ""' ""^ """' «<«■' 
 
 purpose of hu„.,-„^, ,h, ,„ J'"'" '«' ™e,..», for .he 
 cession, to such a d.pth thai , ■ ^' '" '""• 
 
 shooter trap any thin/ll •"'" ""f'°'»iW'- to 
 
 ^d. and .e w Ttz T;::z, :7, °^"»-'- 
 
 Here we were fhp c« , PTOcurii^ any more, 
 wigwam burl:; hZh! ';^ «- ^-t deep, „„, 
 
 "Our mother Th^ "'e'ght of the snow. 
 
 record of h^: Itavn"" '^ '"^ "'' «■<"" "■» 
 ■»»») boiled biroh bark o " " "'"'' ""^""o"' ^o. 
 »e might not sle o„ 2 "'" 'L'" "^^'''^ «^' 
 us were so weak IL , u '"''™"' '^^J' »™e of 
 
 »<= other, cojd'n'o .::'!":: "Z *'r"'^ 
 
 . orawl fa and out of the „i„„m ^' 7'f ""'^ 
 ver skins and old mocassi n'r^od Cfh '"j 
 
 day none of the men could. oabro!j: ""■* 
 
 and uncle. On the tP„,l, 7 ^"^"^P""^' ''''*er 
 
 food, the only one^Ib t\til' ZJ'f '!''^' 
 
 ^■•e my father, my »ra„d„!r " *«"»» 
 
 self. Oh how duf. ' "-^ '''''='•. "ud >ny. 
 
 ly^g abo'utThe' 't ;:2 'r h^ "^"'"^ '»^-' 
 
 looks ..-the children wouTdctf^^ ""'' ^" 
 % poor mother CZZ. { '""''"''"S t" «»' ' 
 
 kissed us! Wood T. { ■"" "'""'''' ^ "he 
 
 obUined, on^^uVoflt ;" t"''' """' -" "■» 
 
 W„ «,.ul _ Tr"" °f *e foebleness of our lip,.,. 
 
 ■-. ==.».■ «u,a at times draw near the Wand i;" 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 ■ 30 "™^= 
 '- I. 
 
 M 
 = 
 
 1.8 
 
 
 1.25 1.4 11.6 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 6" 
 
 ► 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
I 
 
 
 ^ ^^s 
 
 MA 
 
 ^ 
 
 /^O 
 
 V 
 
 e. 
 
■«*s4»i:,i. ,i„_^. 
 
 ifr 
 
 866 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 hearse some prayer to the gods. It appeared to him 
 that there was no way of escape, the men, women 
 and children dying; some of them were speechless* 
 the wigwam was cold and dark, and covered with 
 snow ! 
 
 « On the eleventh day, jost before daylight, my fa- 
 ther fell into a sleep ; he soon awoke, and said to me, 
 ♦My son, the good Spirit is about to bless us this 
 night ; in my dream I saw a person coming from the 
 east walking on the tops of the trees ; he told me we 
 should obtain two beavers about nine o'clock. Put 
 on your mocassins, and go along with me to the river, 
 and we will hunt beaver, perhaps for the last time.' 
 I saw that his countenance beamed with delight and 
 hope; he was full of confidence. I put on my mo- 
 cassins and carried my sno^z-shoes, staggering along 
 behind him about half a mile. Havmg made a fire 
 near the river, where there was an air-hole through 
 which the beaver had come up duruig the night, my 
 father tied a gun to a stump, with the muzzle towards 
 the air-hole ; he also tied a string to the trigger, and 
 said, 'Should you see the beaver rise pull the string 
 and you will kUl it.' I stood by the fire, with the 
 string in my hand ; I soon heard the noise occasioned 
 by the blow of his tomahawk ; he had killed a beaver 
 and brought it to me. As he laid it down, he said, 
 'Then the Great Spirit will not let us die here;' 
 adding, as before, ♦ if you see the beaver rise, pull the 
 string ;' and he left me. I soon saw the nose of one, 
 but I did not shoot. Presently, another came up ;' 
 I pulled the trigger, and ofi* the gun went. I c~ould 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 367 
 
 not see for some moments for the smoke. My fether 
 ran towards me with the two beavers, and Z them 
 ^de by s,de ; then, pointing to .he ann -" Do yout^ 
 
 we should k, these two about this time in the mom- 
 Now Z" r '^ ""' '■^''"'''«» "' Ki'^e Lake. 
 
 vv e arrived just m tune to save them 
 r™_m eath. Since whieh we have visited the Zl 
 spot the year the missionaries came among us. 
 
 My father knelt down, with feelings of gratitude 
 
 Go y toTodH T'V\'^ "ear'/pe^Id" 
 rl • r f. .: ^^""^ ^^^^<^ «f n^any who have 
 perished ui this way far up in the wood^/'- J .7 
 Oeorffe Copway, written by himself, p. 44. "^^ "^ 
 
 E— Page 192. 
 "... onjirat deciding that it ivas a canoe." 
 The Indians say, that before their fathers had tools 
 
 labour of three generations. It was hollowed out bv 
 nieans of fire, cautiously applied, or by stone hattts; 
 
 pass d t^^ ''^""' P^^^^^^' ^^^* y-- -re 
 passed m its excavation. When completed, it was 
 
 «d as a great achievement, and its launching on 
 
 tir f.""' '"'^ '' ""''' ^^' celebrated by 
 feasting an^ dancing. The artisans were venerated 
 as great patriots. Possibly the birch.Wl, .„... .^^3 
 of older date, as being more easily constructed^ and 
 
 I 
 
868 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 needing not the assistance of the axe in forming it; 
 
 but it was too frail to be used in war, or in long 
 
 voyages, being liable to injuries. 
 The black stone wedges, so often found on the 
 
 borders of our inland -aters, were used by the 
 Indians in skinning the deer and bear. Their arrow- 
 heads were of white or black flint, rudely chipped into 
 shape, and inserted in a cleft stick. A larger sort 
 were used for killing deer; and blunt wooden ones 
 were used by the children, for shooting birds and 
 small game. 
 
 M 
 
 F.— Page 203. 
 
 . the Christian mind r.evolts with horror.** 
 
 There is, according to the native author, George 
 C!opway, a strong feeling in the Indians for conversion 
 and civilization, and a concentration of all the 
 Christianized tribes, now scat! far and wide along 
 the northern banks of the I&k.; and rivers, into one 
 nation, to be called by one name, and united in one 
 purpose— their general improvement. To this end, 
 one of the most influential of their chiefs, .Tohn Jones, 
 of Dover Sound, oflfered to give up to his Indian 
 brethren, free of all cost, a large tract of unceded 
 land, that they might be gathered together as one 
 nation. 
 
 In the council held at Sangeeny, where were 
 convened Indian chiefs from lakes St. Qare, Simcoe, 
 Huron, Ontario, and Rice, and other lakes, it was 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 %9 
 
 proposed to devise a plan by which the tract owned 
 
 «ne arge settlement at Owen's Sound At T 
 meet nff fortv-eiffht Ph.-^ft, *3ouna. At this 
 
 s luny eight chiefs were assembled. 
 
 P.rt8 of Canada, even from the north of Geoikn 
 
 .^';ehSe:"wr -t ""^'^' '"- -'™ -^ 
 
 fk " • ^" ""'«'« '•^gret this, were it not for 
 
 the ^roumstanees that require you he;e. 
 
 deep ^fSudrl""" '''°"'"^' ' ""^^ ""-"^'^ -«- 
 
 We studjed deeply and ^ioudy, i„ ord^to ^ ' 
 «t a true la,owledge of the pn^per ooursTltT^ 
 .u^ to seonre ,„ „3 and our deseeadanH and !Z 
 
 t *°'t'"".""'^ "'- "■« S^'"'-' amount orpear 
 health happ,„e., and useinlne.,. Tk. interef^' 
 
 heart tr,l ""'l ?"*"^ "^^ ""^^ »<• "^-^ 'o -X 
 heart , for them I have often passed sleepless nishts 
 
 and have suffered from an agitated mind' C! ntl 
 
 tons, I am proud to say, are my brother, many of 
 
 would wilhngly sacrifice any thin", " •■ 
 
 n^. 
 
 th€ 
 
 i-'ivtfiers, 
 
 /ou 
 
870 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 -.-» 
 
 m 
 
 \h 
 
 HI 
 1 
 
 see my heart. [Here he held out a piece of wliite 
 paper, emblematical of a pure heart.] 
 
 "Fellow-chiefs and warriors, I have looked over 
 your wigwams throughout Canada, and have come to 
 the conclusion that you are in a warm place [query, 
 too hot to hold you]. The whites are kindling fires 
 all round you [t. e., clearing land]. 
 
 " One purpose for which you have been called to 
 gether, is to devise some plan by which we can live 
 together, and become a happy people ; so that our 
 dying fires may not go out, [i. e., our people become 
 extinct,] but may be kindled, and bum brightly in one 
 place. We now offer you any portion of the land we 
 own in this region, that we may smoke the pipe of 
 peace, and live and die together, and see our children 
 play and be reared on the same spot. We ask no 
 money of you. We love you ; and because we love 
 you, and feel for you, we propose this. 
 
 "My chiefs, brothers, warriors. This morning 
 [the speaker now pointed with his fingers towards 
 the heavens,] look up and see the blue sky : there 
 are no clouds ; the sun is bright and clear. Our 
 fathers taught us, that when the sky was without 
 clouds, the Great Spirit was smiling upon them. May 
 he now preside over us, that we may make a long, 
 smooth, and straight path for our children. It is true 
 I seldom see you all, but this morning I shake hands 
 with you all, in my b-^art. 
 
 ** Brothers, this is all I have to say." 
 
piece of white 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 871 
 
 G— Page 221. 
 ** . . . and aimed a knife at hia throat.*' 
 The period at which these events are said to have 
 occurred was some sixty or eighty years ago, accord, 
 ing to the imperfect chronology of my informant. At 
 hrst, I hesitated to believe that such horrible deeds as 
 those recorded could have taken place almost within 
 the memory of men. My Indian narrator replied- 
 Indians, no Christians in those days, do worse than 
 that very few years ago,-do as bad now in far-west » 
 The conversion of the Rice Lake Indians, and the 
 gathering them together in villages, took place, I 
 think, in the year 1825, or thereabouts. The con- 
 version was effected by the preaching of missionaries 
 from the Wesleyan Methodist Church; the village 
 was under the patronage of Captain Anderson, whose 
 descendants inherit much land on the north shore on 
 and about Anderson's Point, the renowned site of the 
 great battle. The war-weapon and bones of the 
 enemies, the Ojebwas, are still to be found in this 
 vicinity. 
 
 Mm- 
 
 H.— Page 238. 
 «' This place she called Spooke Island." 
 Spooke Island. A singular and barren island in 
 the R,ce Lake, seventh from the head of the lake, on 
 which the Indians used formerlv tn hnrv t\^;, j.„j 
 for many years held a« a sacred spot, and only ap 
 
ii 
 
 872 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 p.oached with reverence. Now famous for two 
 things, picnics and poison ivrj, rhus toxicodendron, — 
 many peisons having suffered for their temerity in 
 landing upon it and making it the scene of their rural 
 festivities. 
 
 I.— Page 259. 
 • and nothing hvtjire,^ 
 
 The Indians call the Rice Lake, in allusion to the 
 rapidity with which the fires run over the dry herb- 
 age, the Lake of the Burning Plains. Certainly, 
 there is much poetical fitness and beauty in many of 
 the Indian names, approximating very closely to the 
 figurative imagery of the language of the East ; such 
 is " Mad-wa-osh," the music of the winds. 
 
 K.— Page 279. 
 
 ** hvi it was not to in the days whereof I ham spoken," 
 
 From George Copway^a Life. 
 
 Converted Indians are thus described in the " Life" 
 of their literary countryman, George Copway : — 
 
 Chippewas of the River Credit. — These Indians are 
 the remnant of a tribe which formerly possessed a 
 considerable portion of the Elome and Gore Districts, 
 of which, in 1818, they surrendered the greater part 
 for an annuity of 532^. 10«. reserving only certain 
 snlall tracts at the River Credit ; and at Sixteen and 
 
 'TWfilx'; \/r;ix C^^m.}.^ I'k-TT rsf&s-a '■V- C-~i. i~!1 --: —i.. 3 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 878 
 
 to Christfanity. Previous to the year 1823 they were 
 wandering pagans. I„ that year Peter Jones, and 
 John his brother, the sons of a white by a Mississaga 
 woman, having been converted to Christianity, and 
 admitted as members of the Wesleyan Methodist 
 Oiurch became anxious to redeem their countrymen 
 from their degraded state of heathenism and spiritual 
 destitution. They collected a considerable number 
 together, and by rote and frequent repetitions taught 
 the first principles of Christianity to such as were too 
 old to learn to read, and with the Lord's Prayer, the 
 Creed, and Commandments, were thus committed to 
 memory. As soon as the tribes were converted, they 
 perceived the evils attendant on their former state of 
 Ignorance and vagrancy. They began to work, which 
 they had never done before ; they recognized the 
 advantage of cultivating the soil; they gave up 
 drmking, to which they had been greatly addicted 
 and became sober, consistent, industrious Christians.' 
 J. Sawyer, P. Jones, Chiefs ; J. Jones, War- 
 chief. 
 
 The Chippewas of Alnwick were converted in 
 1826-7. They were wandering pagans, in the neigh, 
 bourhood of Belleville, Kingston, and Gannoyne 
 commonly known as Mississagas of the Bay of 
 Quint6 ; they resided on Grape Island, in the Bay of 
 Qumte, six miles from Belleville. They resided 
 eleven years on the island, subsisting by hunting and 
 agriculture. Their houses were erected partly by 
 
 their own Iftbr.nr anA K,- fU^ \TT._i. ■».-.. '' 
 
 ^ ^J '■^''= VTcsieyan Missionary 
 
 funds ; these consist of twenty-thre« houses, a oommc 
 32 
 
871 
 
 JlPPENDII. 
 
 dious chapel und whool, an infant school, hospital, 
 
 smithy, shoemaker's shop and joiner's. There are 
 
 upwards of 300 of these Indians. 
 
 The Chiefs are— Sunday ; Simpson ; G. Corrego, 
 
 Chief and missionary interpreter. 
 
 Rice Lake Chippewas.~\n 1818 the greater part 
 of the Newcastle and Colbum districts were surrenp 
 dered, for an annuity of 940/. These Indians have 
 all been reclaimed from their wandering life, and 
 settled in their present locations, within the last ten 
 or twelve years.* The settlement is on the north 
 side of the lake, t*»elve miles from Peterborough. 
 Number of Indians, 114; possessing 1,550 acres, 
 subdivided in fifty-acre lots. 
 
 Chiefs — Pondash, Copway, Crow. 
 Deer were plenty a few years ago, but now only 
 few can be found. The Ojebwas are at present em- 
 ployed in farming instead of hunting; many of them 
 have good and well-cultivated farms; they not only 
 raise grain enough for their own use, but often sell 
 much to the whites. 
 
 L.— Page 289. 
 "that an outtoard manifestation ofmrpriae.** 
 A. young friend, who was familiar with Indian oharac 
 ter, from frequent intercourse with them in his hunting 
 
 • I think G. Copway is incorrect as to the date of the settling 
 of the village, as it was pointed out to me in 1832. Note.— In 
 the year 1822 the larger part of the Indian village on Anderionli 
 i'«afc wu built and cultivated. 
 
APPENDII. 
 
 876 
 
 «I«d.t.on., peaking of their apparent .b,ence of 
 cuncty, told „e that, with a view to test t h. 
 wound up a musi«U .„„Sb„,, „a placed it on . 
 tobi, m a roo™ where aeveral Indian hnnter, and 
 
 watched their eonntenancc, but they evinced no aort 
 
 unmoved. He retired to an adjoining room, where 
 unseen, he could notice what passed, ^d was'aS 
 
 reives free from hu surveillance, the whole mrt, 
 muatored round the mysterious tdy like a pared ^? 
 
 S '^'T *"' "<" "^^'^ *» *» «>''«PI«d into 
 Aowmg suq,rfae. This perfect command over Z 
 muscle, of the face and the glance of the eye is 1 rf 
 *• ««^k»ble traits in the Indian charwter. n, 
 2"«.»n of the Indian ««e, if I may uae s^ p„l 
 do..cal a term consists in a want of expression-likt 
 
 fwel^ -.f "^ '°'P "«'■-• •>--* ''Wok »o 
 Object la visible. • 
 
 M.— Pege 338. 
 
 « bracelets of porcupine gu:::. cut in fine piece, and strung 
 
 *n fanciful pattern:* 
 
 ~"''.»ent, ^anaaian tnorii, a bodkin 
 «f bone, or a sharp naij. These outlines are then 
 
876 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 pierced with parallel rows of holes, into which the 
 ends of the porcupine quills are insertdl, forming a 
 rich sort of embroidery on the surface of the bark. 
 
 The Indian artists have about as much notion of 
 perspective, or the effects of life and shade, as the 
 Chinese or our own early painters ; their attempts at 
 delineating animals, or birds, are flat, sharp, and an- 
 gular ; and their groups of flowers and trees not more 
 graceful or natural than those on a china plate or jar ; 
 nevertheless, the eflfect produced is rich and striking, 
 from the vivid colours and the variety of dyes they 
 contrive to give to this simple material, the porcupine 
 quills. The sinew of the deer, and some other 
 animals, furnish th< Indian women with thread, of 
 any degree of fineness or strength. The wants of 
 these simple folk are few, and those easily supplied 
 by the adaptation of such materials as they can com- 
 mand with ease, in their savage state. 
 
 N Page 346. 
 
 " M Mount Ararat.*' 
 
 Mount Ararat, the highest elevation on the Rice 
 Lake Plains, for nearly two years the residence of 
 the authoress and her family. 
 
 THX XHD. 
 
 I 
 
> which the 
 i, forming a 
 ' the bark, 
 sh notion of 
 lade, as the 
 attempts at 
 irp, and an- 
 es not more 
 )late or jar ; 
 md striking, 
 f dyes they 
 e porcupine 
 some other 
 thread, of 
 e wants of 
 ily supplied 
 )y can oom- 
 
 n the Rice 
 esidf nee of