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 CLEANER TALES 
 
 COMPI>KTK KDITION' 
 
 ••>■• «, 
 
\ copv of \h\>* hu(*k will b« sent. posbiKO 
 jtaid.' to any address, on receipt uf 91, or 
 in extra bindinjf, $1.-''). 
 
 History of the ('.•unty of Himtinplon and of 
 the Seiirniories of ('hateanKi»y and Hcmu- 
 harnois. fnmi their first settlement to the 
 eh)se of the Rebellion. Post paid .«J. 
 
 Li'tters to he addresi-ed to 
 
 TlIK (;i,KAXKK, Ml NTlX(iI>ON, Ql K. 
 
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(i LEANER TALES 
 
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 ROHEKT SELLAK 
 
 HlNTINCiDON. Q. 
 3895 
 

 Ml '^ ^^ 
 
 
 |H ity of 
 
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 ^H name 
 
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 ^B^idca o 
 
 
 BKthat (»1 
 
 
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 Entered aoc-ordiiiK to act of parliament of C'anadu, in 
 
 the year 18!>.% by Hobert Sellai". at the 
 
 Doptirtment of At^ritnilture. 
 
 L 
 
A >:lan<'»' at tlu' map shows thf "joiith-w eHU.ru ''xtrom- 
 ity <»f th<' province of QuebtM* to W a wed^'i' s<ha})«'(l bit 
 of tt'rritory; thf St. Lawreru'o on our sid»-. thr United 
 Stat«'w on thf other. All tliat is rrlati'd in the follow inj; 
 pa^'fH is assofiati'd with this rornrr of (anada. Tho 
 name of the hook comes from tlie newspafwi- ir, which 
 most of the tales lirst a[)iM.*are<l. Tlwre is a pui'posc. in 
 the hook. It attempts to convey in a readahU- foiju an- 
 idea of an era in the life of Canada which has pp -^d - 
 that of its first settlement hy emijfrants from the Bcitish 
 isles and to jrive an account of two strikin*? episodes 
 in its history, the invasion \inder Hampt(»n and the year 
 of the ship fever*. These are histori«'ally coi-rei't; the 
 briefer tales ar^' ba.sed on actual incidents in tlie lives 
 of eai'ly settlers in tlu* old county of Huntiufrdon. 
 
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 <'<)Xti:nts. 
 
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 AKrnAN(;K A Si) Mauik 
 
 TuK skttM':! 's Fihst (Ikist 
 
 AhNKHS !>KVMK 
 
 \i A Skttij:i{'s stoky 
 .Ikanik Mouison 
 Lost - • - . . 
 
 Ax INCIDKNT OK 11 l'NTIX( MX ).\ FaJ] 
 
 Thk stmmkk of Sokhow 
 
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 TflE I 
 kn (.utl 
 erct' ii 
 hr ynn 
 a iniiki 
 ^'itli th^ 
 |li<' St I 
 dated a 
 desrrtt'ci 
 e<I and 
 fervor, i 
 e slia 
 iindrri 
 atci's ( 
 ousos, i 
 
 ntly tl 
 
 general 'j 
 
 I 
 
( 
 
 \ 
 
 II K M \A)(' K 
 
 ciiAiTi:!: I 
 
 'I'm: rain <>t' the t'oiviioon luul lu-rn I'ollnwcil l»y 
 In outburst <>t' Imit ami tlir suiishitir Ix-at with 
 iercc intensity <»n tin* narrow s(|Uair tliat t'ornictl 
 Ihf vai'd of the liarracks at Montreal. Tlid'c wais 
 Miilkincss in tlw atnios|»li«'r«' wliicli, conjoined 
 ith the low hank of hlaok cloud that Iiuul; onoi; 
 til'- St r^awi-t'uce where it rolled out of si<;ht. Indi- 
 flatid a renewal of the (lown})oui*. Thr yard was 
 deserted. Diinier was owv and the men louni;- 
 ©d anti snoozed indoors until tht; sun abated his 
 
 fc 
 
 rvor, always excepting the sentry, who stood in 
 
 |h«' shad(.' of the i;ateway, his ^^iv/a' altei'iiately 
 an(h'rin<^ froh, the I'efreshintr niotictn of the bhie 
 raters of St .Nhiry's current to the chister of lot: 
 louses, interspersed bv stone edifices with hi'di tin 
 
 [oofs, which formed the' Montreal of I M.S. Tre- 
 
 'Utly the sound of hoofs was heard, and therc^ 
 
 lUM- ^^alloping to the j^^ate an orderly from thn 
 
 jentral's headfjuarters. PassiiiL,^ the sentry, lur 
 
4' 
 
 ! ( ' 
 
 2 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 pnll'tl up at the door of that portion of the bar 
 racks where the officer of the day was (piartere' 
 an<l who, in another minute, was reading the d* 
 s: jitcli he had brought. It was an order for 
 (ktachment of 20 men to report without delays 
 liin^'juarters. Instantly the voice of a sergeai 
 was lioard shouting the order to those who had t 
 tnni out and the barracks became a bustling scci, 
 of soldiers rubbing their accoutrements and pad 
 m^^ their kits. In half an hour they had fnili 
 into rank and marched to the general's residem 
 The lieutenant in charge went in to reporc ai, 
 f( imd (ieneral de Watteville writing. 
 
 "You ready for the route? Ah, yes; very gou 
 Muiton. I will write you one order. You w: 
 escoit an ammunition-train to' camp La Fourc! 
 ami there go under command of Major Stovin. " 
 
 "J hope, Cieneral, there is a prospect of our hel; 
 ini;- to use the cartridges when we get there?" 
 
 "I cannot say. Yankee very cautious; put 1. 
 nose one, two, three time across the frontier an 
 thtn run back, like rat to his hole. Maybe Ham; 
 t rn come; we must be ready. Here is your ordt 
 \"ou w^ill tind the train at King's Posts and use a 
 expedition." 
 
 Saluting the General, Morton withdrew and, i 
 joining his men, they marched down the naric 
 nn<l crooked maze of St Paul street, attractii 
 iittle attention, for the sight of soldiers had 1' 
 ccrne familiar even to the habitant wives, who m ?1 
 
 » logging 
 
 lime tl 
 
 gained, 
 
 irays })e 
 
 bri,sklv, 
 
 lonie pa 
 
 foam in" 
 
 time. ' 
 
 Ipectacl 
 
 nu<'e hi I 
 
 jiin<mlar 
 
 Jpvers of 
 
 ^taraet« 
 
 Ce[)tibly 
 
 At the 
 
 <^xpands 
 
 !,P 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 3 
 
 : the Uii l^.^,,,|j^,, hoinewarJ in their market-carts. By the 
 
 ijuarterei 
 
 icr the (!• 
 [•(ler for 
 it delay a 
 a sergoai 
 vho had i 
 tling sct'ii 
 and pack 
 had tail 
 ^ resident 
 reporc n 
 
 very go(^ 
 You ui 
 ,a Fourcl 
 Stovin." 
 ►f our hel; 
 Ithere?" 
 [us; put i 
 Irontier an 
 ,ybe Ham; 
 your onli 
 and use a 
 
 tew and, i 
 
 [the narrt' 
 
 attractii 
 
 ;rs had ^' 
 
 js,who ^vt 
 
 tune 
 
 the town was cleared, and the Lachine road 
 
 gained, tlie sun was inclining to the west, and his 
 
 l-ays heing more endurable, the men stepped out 
 
 iri.skly, bandying coarse jests, wliile the officei-, 
 
 loine paces behind, eyed with surprised delight the 
 
 loaming rapids, which he now saw for the first 
 
 %ine. The afternoon was calm, which made the 
 
 ectacle of a wide expanse of water tossed into 
 
 U(^e billows without apparent cause, all the more 
 
 ngular. "Why," said Morton inwardly, "all the 
 
 Uvers of the United Kingdom, with their falls and 
 
 taracts, if added to this vast river, would not per- 
 
 ptibly add either to its volume or its tumult." 
 
 At the head of the rapids, where the 8t Lawrence 
 
 pands into the lake named 8t Louis, stood the 
 
 intr's Posts, an extensive collection of build inirs, 
 
 itli wharves in front, at which were moored a 
 
 rge number of boats. King's Posts was the depot 
 
 supplies for the country west of Montreal, and 
 
 erefove a place of bustle in time of war, boats 
 
 nulling the rapids and long trains of carts con- 
 
 ying to its storehouses daily the supplies brought 
 
 shipping from England to Montreal, to be in 
 
 rn sent off' as required to the numerous garrisons 
 
 ong the upper St Lawrence and lakes Ontario ami 
 
 ie, while the troops, then being hurried to the 
 
 )nt, here embarked. Reporting liis command, 
 
 orton was informed the boat with the supplies 
 
 was to guard would not be ready to sail until 
 
4 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ?, .^ 
 
 it 
 ii' 
 
 ■a! 
 
 late in the evening, and quarters were assitjjned lii 
 men and to himself an invitation to join the mes- 
 dinner. Thus relieved, he strolled to the wator'^ | 
 edge, and watched the sliouting boatmen and tlij 
 swearing soldiers as they loaded the flotilla tha 
 was in preparation, and was fortunate enough t 
 see a bateau arrive from Montreal, poled upagaiiisj 
 the current by part of its crew while the othii 
 tugged at a tow-rope, reinforced b}'' a yoke of oxoii 
 Then he watched the sun, which, as it neared tli 
 horizon, dyed the waters of the majestic river wit!. 
 many hues. Slowly it neared the thick battalio: 
 of pines behind which it would disappear, and a- 
 Morton noted the broad crimson pathway that i:| 
 seemed to stretch across the placid lake as fj 
 temptation to follow it into its chamber of glory 
 lie thought he never beheld anything more iin 
 posing. Slowly the throbbing orb descended an 
 was lost to sight, and, as if evoked by angel-spii 
 cloudlets became revealed and were transforiix 
 into plumage of scarlet and gold. The train c 
 Morton's reverie was snapped by the tread of troc] 
 behind him. Turning he saw a fie of soklit'i 
 with a manacled man between them. When tlv 
 reached the head of the wharf, the order to lia. 
 was given. Morton knew wdiat it meant. T!i 
 tall thin man in his shirt-sleeves was a spy an 
 he was going to be shot. It was supper-time an 
 boats and wharfs were for the time no louijor t! 
 scene of activity, but the grimy bateau-men pau>' 
 
 
 in their c 
 unacted, 
 the roug 
 (loomed n 
 St Law re 
 line of so 
 no hurry 
 calm and 
 nndaunte 
 sinister a 
 mixed wit 
 ed the bu 
 handkcrch 
 the use o' i 
 luoughtn't 
 of a dyin 
 hand, and 
 read}'?" 
 'Yes, ku 
 Turning^ 
 successive 
 Hardly ha 
 prisoner, >a 
 leap into 
 where he s 
 face of the 
 Has he es 
 dead:" she 
 the edn'(» of 
 dom amid 
 
m 
 
 HEMLOCK. 
 
 5 
 
 ned lii^ 
 
 wator^ 
 
 md till 
 Ua tluvj 
 
 DUgll t 
 
 I againsi] 
 3 otlierj 
 
 of OXC'Ilj 
 
 xrcd til I 
 
 ver wit!. 
 )attaliu;.] 
 ', and aj 
 / that i:| 
 ke as 
 )f gloryl 
 lore iiii-l 
 ded aiK 
 ^el-spei'l 
 sforiix. 
 ;raiii ii 
 )t' troof 
 sold it'll 
 len th' 
 to lia] 
 t. T! 
 spy aii 
 ime iui 
 iger t!. 
 pau>' 
 
 in their cookery, to watch the tragedy al-mt to be 
 unacted. Two soldiers lifted from their shoulders 
 the rough box that was to be his coffin, and the 
 (loomed man stood beside it. Behind him was the 
 St Lawrence, a lake of molten glass ; in front th»? 
 line of soldiers who were to shoot him. There was 
 no hurry or confusion; everything being d(.)ne in a 
 calm and business-like manner. The prisoner stood 
 undauntedly before his executioners; a man with a 
 sinister countenance, in which low cunning was 
 mixed with imperturable self-possession. He wav- 
 ed the bugler away when he approached to tie a 
 handkerchief over his eyes. "Guess I want ter hev 
 the use o' my eyes as long as I ken; but say, kurnel, 
 nioughtn't you loo.se my arm.-?. It's the last \vish 
 of a dyin man." The officer gave a sign with his 
 hand, and the rope ''vas untied. "Prisoner, are you 
 ready?" 
 
 'Yes, kurnel." 
 
 Turning to the firing party, the officer gav(^ the 
 successive orders — -make ready, — present, — fire! 
 Hardly had the last word been uttered, than the 
 prisoner, with surprising agility, gave a l)ackward 
 leap into the river, and the volley swept over 
 where he stood, the l)ullets ricochetting on the sur- 
 face of the river behind. "The Yankee scoundrel! 
 Has he escaped? Ten pounds for him alive or 
 dead!" shouted the officer. There was a rush to 
 the edgii of the wharf, and the soldiers tired at ran- 
 dom amid its posts, Ijut tlie American was not to 
 
, - I 
 
 6 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 l»e soon. "It is impossible for him to escape," tlio 
 captain said to Morton, who had come to aid in the 
 searcli. ** He would have been luinfj had we had a 
 gallows handy, and if he has escaped the bullet it is 
 only to be drowned, for the river runs here like a 
 mill-race and will carry him into the rapids." The 
 soldiers jumped on the boats and scanned wharf 
 and shore, an<l seeing no trace came to the con- 
 clusion that from his backward leap he had boon 
 unable to recover himself and did not rise to the 
 surface. Satisfied the man was drowned, the sol- 
 diers were ordered back to the guard-room and the 
 stir and hurry in getting the flotilla ready wore re- 
 sumed. 
 
 Soon afterwards Morton was seated at the mess- 
 table, which was crowded, for there were detacli- 
 ments of two regiments on their way from Quebec, 
 w here they had landed the week before, to Upper 
 Canada. The company was a jovial one, composed 
 of veteran campaigners who had learned to make 
 the most of life's pleasures when they could be 
 snatched, and joke and story kept the table in a 
 I'oar for a couple of hours, when the colonel's servant 
 whispered something in his ear. "Comrades," he 
 said, rising, "I am informed the boats are rea<ly. 
 The best of friends must part when duty calls, and 
 the hour we have spent this evening is a pleasant 
 oasis in our long and toilsome journey through this 
 wilderness. We do not know what difficulties \vo 
 may have to encounter, but we who braved the sun 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 fot* India and stormed the Pyrenees will not filttr 
 |l»«it'ore the obstacles Canadian flood and forest niiy 
 f present, and will carry the Hag of our count i-y to 
 victfjry, as we have so often done under our i^i 'li- 
 ons chief, Wellington. We come to cross swords 
 not for concjuest hut to repel those inva<lers, who, 
 ])i-ofessing to be the champions of liberty, seek to 
 bolster the falling cause of the tyrant of Europe 
 by end(!avoring to create a diversion in his favor 
 (»n this western continent. We shall drive the 
 boasters back, or else will leave our bones to bo 
 bleached by Canadian snows; and we shall do more, 
 \\v shall vindicate the independence of thi^ v;ist 
 )untry against the ingrates who smite, in the hour 
 |of trial, the mother that reared them, and sliall 
 reserve Canada to be the home of untold millions 
 .vho will perpetuate on the banks of these* great 
 ivers and lakes the institutions and customs that 
 lave made the name of Britain renowned. Com- 
 ades, let us (piit ourselves in this novel field of 
 ontlict as befits our colors, and I propose, u> our 
 arting tv,.-.st. Success to the defenders of Cituada, 
 nd confusion to the Kino^'s enemies." 
 
 With clank of sword and sabre each officer sirancr 
 his feet and the toast was drank with shout and 
 utstretched arm. Amid the outburst of entiuisi- 
 sm,a broad-shouldered captain started the chorus, 
 
 " Why, soldiers, why, sliould we be melancholy, b;)\s? 
 Why, soldiers, why, whose business 'tis to die?" 
 
 t was taken up with vigor until the roar wa^ duaf- 
 
MP 
 
 8 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I'liiiiL;-, an<l then tlie colonel gave the signal to dis- 
 miss. From the heated room, Morton stopped out J 
 and drew his breath at the spectacle presented. 
 The moon, full orbed, hung over the woods of La- 
 prairie and poured a Hood of light upon the rapids | 
 beneath, transforming them where shallow into loni; | 
 hmos of nrlitterin**' network and where the hu^ije bil- 
 lows tossed in endless tumult, sable and silver alter- 
 nated. Above, the waters slumbered in the soft light, 
 nnconscious of the ordeal towards which they were 
 drifting and scarcely ruffled by the light east breeze 
 that had sprung up. Directly in front were the 
 boats, loaded, and each having its complement of 
 soldiers. The officers took their places among them 
 and they cast oft* until over a hundred were en- 
 gaged in stemming the rapid current with aid of 
 sail and oai*. After passing between Caughnawagfi 
 and Lachine, indicated by their glancing spires, the 
 leading boats awaited on the bosom of the lake for 
 those that had still to overcome the rivev's drift. 
 MHien the last laooard had arrived, the flotilla wa,s 
 marshalled by the naval officers who had control 
 into three columns, some sixty yards apart, and, 
 the oars l>eing shipped, and sails hoisted, moved 
 niniesticallv for the head of the lake. Surelv, 
 thought Morton, as he eyed the imposing scene, 
 the far-searchinof lake embosomed by noddin<»' for- 
 est, " This country is worth fighting for." 
 
 ^riie air was balmy, the motion of the boats plea- 
 sant, tlie moonlight scene inspiring, so that the 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 9 
 
 men forj^ot their fatipjues, and Inirst into sonfj, and 
 chorus after chorus, joined in by the entin> tlotilhi, 
 lii'oke tlie silence. A piper, on his way to join hi-; 
 n'n*iuent, broke in at intervals and the colonel or- 
 dered the fife and drum corps to strike up. Thf 
 hoat in whicli Morton sat brought up the reai-, and 
 softened by distance and that inexpressi])le (juality 
 which a cahn stretcli of water gives to music, he 
 tliought he had never heard anything tinei', and he 
 could not decide whether tlie singing of the nu'n, 
 the weird strains of the pibrocli, or the martial 
 music of the fifes and drums was to 1 preferred. 
 About an hour liad been spent thus, when the 
 captain of tlie boat shouted to shift tlie sail, ami 
 putting up the helm, the little bar([ue fell out of 
 line and liead'.Ml for an eminence on the south 
 sliore, so sharp and smooth in outline, that Morton 
 took it to be a fortitic ition. When their leaving 
 was noted, the men in the long lines of boats struck 
 up Auld Lang Syne, the fifes and drums accom- 
 panying, and when they had done, the piper suc- 
 ceeded. Morton listened to the strain as it came 
 faintly from the fast receding flotilla, it was that 
 of Lochaber no More. 
 
 As the shore was neai'ed the boat was l)r(night 
 closer to the win<], and lying over somewhat deeply, 
 the helmsman tt)ld those on the lee side to chanu" 
 seats. In the movement a man rubbed airainst 
 Morton, and he felt that his clothes were wet. 
 Looking sharply at him, he .saw lie was one of the 
 
10 
 
 CiF.EANEH TALES. 
 
 I'oat's cn'w, wlien liis roseinbljincc to tho spy lif 
 liad seen escape the Imllets ot" the tirinif - })arty 
 struck him. The more he looke<l the more con- 
 vinced he <^rew tliat he was correct, and, improba- 
 hle as it seemed, witliin an arm's len<;th, ahnost, 
 sat the man lie saw phin«jfe into the I'iver and 
 wliom lie, with everybody else, believed to have 
 been swept into the deadly rapids. With all a 
 soldier's detestation of a spy, he resolved he should 
 not escape, yet to attempt to seize him in the boat 
 would be to imperil all in it, for that the t'elh^w 
 would make a desperate struj^^gle Morton knew. 
 Prudently resolving to make no move until the 
 boat neared its moorings, he slipped his hand into 
 his breast-pocket and grasped the stock of one ol" 
 his pistols. 
 
 As the boat approache<l the shore the sharply- 
 cut eminence, which Morton had taken to be a 
 fortification, resolved itself into a grassy knoll, 
 destitute of glacis or rampart, and round the east- 
 ('i*n exti'emity of which they glided into a smooth | 
 narrow channel, whose maro-in was fretted bv the 
 shadows cast by the trees which leant over from its 
 banks. The sail now flapped uselessly and the 
 order was given to get out the oars. The suspect- 
 ed spy rose with the other boatmen to get them 
 into place and stood on a cross-bench as he lifted 
 a heavy oar to its lock. It was a mere pretence. 
 In a moment his foot was on the gunwale an<l 
 he made a sudden spring towards the bank. 
 
 ! i 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 11 
 
 Tl.cre was the sound of a |)liin<^e, of a few ln'ief 
 strokes by a strong swimmer, a movement among 
 the bushes, and then silence. Morton was intensely 
 excited, he drew his pistol, rose and cocking it tired 
 jit random. Turning to the captain of the boat he 
 shouted in fury, "You villain; you have assisted in 
 the escape of a King's prisoner." With stolid coini- 
 tmance the captain shifted the helm to suit the 
 windings of the channel, and answered, "Me no 
 spik Ingleese." Feeling he was powerless, Mor- 
 ton resumed his seat and in a minute or two a 
 I luster of wiiite-washed huts came in vitiw and the 
 boat drew alon<;side a landin<.f-sta<re in front of 
 them. Several soldiers were standing on it await- 
 uvr them, and on askin^^ where he would tind the 
 commissariat officer, Morton was directed to one of 
 the houses, in front of which paced a sentry. En- 
 tering he perceived it consisted of two rooms, 
 tlivided by a board-partition. In the larger end 
 was a woman, surrounded by several children, 
 cooking at an open-tire, and in the other, the door 
 luid windows of wdiich w^re open, for tl»e evening 
 was sultry, were four officers in dishabille, seated 
 rijund a rickety table playing cards, and with a 
 pewter-measure in the middle of it. One of them 
 njse on seeinor the stran^rer, wdiile the others turned 
 carelessly to examine him. Assuring himself he 
 was addressing the officer of the commissariat, Mor- 
 ton explained his business. "Oh, that's all right; 
 the powder-kegs must remain in the boat and in 
 
12 
 
 GLKANEIl TALES. 
 
 the mornin*; I will m^t carts to forwar 1 tln'in to 
 tiw front. Tlicn/s an empty box, Lieutenant Mor- 
 ton: pull it up and join us," and hospitably handed 
 him the pewtt*r-measure. It contained strong rum 
 gro<T, of which a mouthful sufficed Morton. Not 
 so the others, who, in listenin;;;^ to what he had t«i 
 tell of the news of Montreal and of the movement^ 
 of the troops, enjptied it, and shouted to the woman 
 to refill it, and, at the same time, she broug-ht in 
 the supper, consistini;- of fried fish and potatoes. 
 That disposed of, the cards were reproduced and 
 the four were evidently bent on makinjj^ a night of 
 it. On returnin<r from seeinjx how his men were 
 (juartered, Morton found that the grog and thf 
 excitement of the card-playing were telling on lii-; 
 companions, who were noisy and (piarrelsome. Ask- 
 ing where he should sleep, the woman pointed to 
 the ladder that reached to a trap in the roof, and 
 he (juietly ascended. It was merely a loft, with u 
 small window in eithei* gable and a few bufiali* 
 robes and blankets laid on its loose floorinij. Thr 
 place was so stiflingly hot that Morton knew sleep 
 was out of the question even if there bad been n«> 
 noise beneath, and he seated himself by the side of 
 one of the windows through which the \vind canit* 
 in puffs. The sky was now partially clouded and 
 the jjrowl of distant thunder was heard. FatifjUf 
 told on the young soldier and he dozed as he sat. 
 A crash of thunder awoke him. Startled he ros" 
 and was astonished to Hnd himself in utter dark- 
 
 ^ !ii_.__ 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 l:{ 
 
 in'ss, save for ihv rays that cainc tlnoiiiili tlu' 
 chinks of i\\v. floorini; from th ^ caiulh' hi'iiratli. 
 wlicre the utticers were still carousing;. lit' h-aiit 
 out of the win(h)W and saw that the nioun l>a«l 
 been blotted out by thick cKaids. Whih' ^'azin<; 
 there was a flash of li<rhtninL(, revealing' to hiui a 
 inan crouched beside the window below. In th» 
 l)rief instant of intense li<^du, Morton reeo;^niz«d 
 the spy, and guessed he was listenini; to the otheei's, 
 hopin<( to pick up information, in their drunken 
 talk, of use to his employers. " Ht; cheated the 
 ])rov()st-marshal, he cheated me, but he shall not 
 escape again," muttereu Morton, who drew his pis- 
 tols, got them rea<ly, and, gi-asping one in each 
 hand, leant out of the window to await the ne.\t 
 tiash that he might take aim. It came and in- 
 stantly Morton tired. The unsuspecting spy yelled, 
 jiunped to his feet, and rusluMl to the cover of th(^ 
 woods. Then all was darkness. A crash of thunder, 
 the sweep of the coming liurricane and the pelting 
 of rain, increased the futility of attempting to fol- 
 low. "I hope I've done for him," said Mortem to 
 himself, "and that like a stricken fox he will die 
 in cover." 
 
 The pistol-sliots together with the crash of the 
 elements had put a stop to the carousal downstairs 
 and Morton heard them disputing as to who should 
 go up and see what had happened. "I will not go," 
 said one with the deliberation of a stupidly drunk 
 man. "I am an officer of the Royal Engineers and 
 
14 
 
 (;m:anku taf^ks. 
 
 I I 
 
 li 
 
 ! 
 
 Imve notliinfj to <1<) witli personal encounters. It 
 you want a line of circunivallation Iai<l <lo\vn, or 
 the plan of a mine, I am ready, Imt my commission 
 snys notliinj:^ about tij^htin;^ with swords or pistols. 
 I know myotfice and how to maintain its <li<rnity." 
 "Yes, Hu<ifhes, and the inte^^rity of your skin. I'd 
 rro myself (here he rose and tried to steady himself 
 l»y lioldin;^ on to the table) but I'll be jio;nri»ivd if 1 
 can <^o up such a stair-easi* as that. It wouM tak<' 
 a son of a sea-cook," and with thes«.' wonls, losing 
 his ^rip, the speaker toppled over an<l fell on thr 
 rioor. The third otticer, a mere lad, was asleep in his 
 chair in a drunken stupor. The commissariat offi- 
 cer sta<^«i^ered to the foot of the ladder, and, after 
 vainly attemptinff to ascend, shoute<l, "I say you 
 there; what's all the shootinj; for:* Are vou sudi 
 a greenhorn as to be tiring at niosquitoes or a bull- 
 frog. By Getn'ge, when in company of gentlemen 
 you should behave yourself. I will report you to 
 your sliuperior officer," and so he maundered on 
 for a while, receiving no answer from Morton. 
 Finally the woman of the house helped liim to a 
 corner, where he lay down and snored away the 
 fumes of the liquor that had overcome him. Mean- 
 while the storm raged, and when it had passed 
 away, and the moon again calmly came forth, and 
 the frogs again raised their chorus, Morton was too 
 sleepy to think of going to look for the body of the 
 spy, and making as comfortable a bed as he could, 
 he lay down and rested until late next morning. 
 
<iiAi'Ti:it II 
 
 I 
 
 ()S (losccmliiii; from liis slcrpini;- plac*', Morton 
 t'(»un<l the woiium prrpariui^ hrcaktast, and, lookiiij^ 
 into tin' a(ljoinin<jj room, saw that tlirct" ot* its in- 
 mates wtTc still sleopinj;- surroumliMJ hy tin' litter 
 of their ni;^ht's carousal. Stepping; out of floors, 
 he was surpi'ised hy the heauty of the sylvan scene. 
 The air had the freshness and the sky the deep 
 tender-])lue that follows a thunder-storm, nnd the 
 sunshine iiflittere<l on tln^ smooth surface of the 
 river that, in all its windin^jfs, was overhung hy 
 towering trees, except where small openings had 
 I teen made by the settlers, from which peeped 
 their white shanties. The eminence which had ex- 
 cited his curiosity the night before, he perceived to 
 l)e an island, with a largish house at its base. Hank- 
 ed hy a wind-mill. At the landing, was the bateau, 
 with a group of men. Approaching them, he found 
 the captain, whose bloodshot eyes alone indicated 
 his excess of the preceding night. "Ah, Morton," 
 he exclaimed, "you were the only wise man among 
 us; you have your wits abouo you this morning. 
 For me, I had a few hours' pleasure I now loathe 
 
IG 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 : I 
 
 to tliink of and a racking headache. Conic, let \^ 
 liave a swim and tlien go to breakfast." 
 
 Followinir him to the nook lie soujxhfc, Morton 
 told of his shot at the spy. The captain listeniMi 
 attentively to the story. "I hope you winged him, 
 he said, "but he will escape. The settlers, except a: 
 few^ Old Countrymen, are all in sympathy with tlu 
 Yankees, and will shelter and help him to ^rt 
 away. We cannot make a move that word is in it 
 sent to the enemy. I will warn the Indians t 
 look out for him. Had it not been for the rain 
 tliey could trace him to his lair." 
 
 On returning to the house, they found their com- 
 rades trying to make themselves presentable aiMJ 
 sat down to a bi*eakfast of fried pork and sonri 
 l)read, to which Morton di<l ample justice. Tin 
 commissariat officer told him he could not start toil 
 some time, as carts were few and the rain woul'ij 
 have tilled the holes in the track called a road. H' 
 could have forwarded him more quickly by canof- 
 but there was a risk of wetting the powder at tli 
 rapids. It was noon before sufficient carts arriw .s 
 to enable Morton to start, when a laborious journovj 
 ensued, the soldiers being called on constantly t 
 help the undaunted ponies to drag the cart-wht'ti> 
 out of the holes in which they got mired. Wlui j 
 they had gone a few miles the carts halted and tli'l 
 kegs were placed in boats, whicli conveyed them t 
 their destination. Camp La Fourche was foiiii 
 to consist of a few temporary buildings, or ratli'i 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 1 
 
 slu'ds, whicli, witli the barns and slianties of tho 
 settlers near by, housed a few linndred men, of 
 whom few were reguhirs. Morton's orders were 
 to remain and time passed heavily, the only excite- 
 ment bein^x when a scout came in with reports of 
 the movements of the American army on the fron- 
 tier, which were generally exaggerated. The camp 
 had been purposely placed at the forks of the 
 English and Chateaugay rivers, to afi'ord a base 
 of operations against the invader, shouhl he ap- 
 proach eitlicr by way of the town of Cham plain 
 or of Chateaugay. Morton relieved the tedium of 
 waiting by hunting and iishing, for Ids pn^per 
 duties were sliorht. At iirst lie did not venture 
 into the woods without a guide, but experience 
 <iuickly taught one so active and keen of o' serva- 
 tion sufficient bush-lore to venture alone with his 
 pocket-compass. The fishing, at that late season, 
 was only tolerable, and while he enjoyed to the 
 full the delight of skimming the glassy stretches 
 of both rivers in a Vnrch canoe, he preferred the 
 more active motion and greater variety of travers- 
 ing the pathless woods with his gun. He had 
 been in camp over a week when he started foi* 
 an afternoon's exploring of the woods. After an 
 hour's tramp he struck the trail of what he be- 
 lieved to be a bear. Following it was such plea- 
 sant exercise of his ingenuity that he took no note 
 of time, and he had traversed miles of swamp and 
 ridge before prudence cried halt. The sun was 
 
18 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I'M 
 
 hi:: 
 
 i ! 
 
 I I ' 
 
 'li„4i 
 
 I i 
 
 1 ! 
 
 'ii 
 
 ii 
 
 sinking fast, and to retrace his track was out of 
 the question. He resolved to strike due north, 
 which he knew would take hiin to the Chateaugay 
 where lie would find shelter for the night. The 
 Hush of the sunset was dying from the sky when 
 he emerofcd from the woods on the banks of the 
 river, which flowed dark and silent between the 
 endless array of trees which sentinelled it on either 
 side. Threading liis way downward he, in time, 
 came upon a clearing — a gap in the bush filled with 
 ripening grain and tasselled corr.. The shanty, a 
 very humble one, stood at the iv)p of the bank, with 
 the river at its feet. Gratified at the prospect of 
 rest, he paused before swinging hiaiself over the 
 rude fence. There rose in the evening air the 
 sound of singing: it was a psalm-tune. The family 
 were at worship. Reverently the soldier uncovered 
 his head and listened. The psalm ended, he could 
 hear the voice of supplication, though not the 
 words. When Morton approached the house he 
 sa\v a heavily-built man leave the door to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Gude e'en, freen; ye're oot late. But I see ye re 
 ane o' the military and your wark caas ye at a' 
 hoors. Is there ony news o' the Yankee army?' 
 
 Morton explained lie had not been on duty but 
 had got belated in hunting and craved the boon of 
 shelter until morning, for which he would pay. 
 
 "Pay! say ye. A dog wearing the King's colors 
 wad be welcome to my best. You maun be new 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 l(^ 
 
 to this country to tliink the poorest settler in it 
 wad grudge to sliaro Ids hite with ony passerby.. 
 Come your ways; we are richt glad to see yon." 
 
 Entering the shanty Morton was astounded at 
 the contrast between the homelike tidniess of tlie 
 interioa* and the rudeness of the exterior, every- 
 thing being neatly arranged and o^* sp )tless clean- 
 liness. "Ti'uiy," he thought, "it is not abiuidance 
 that makes comfort, but the taste and ingeiniity to 
 make the best of what we have." The glow^ of the 
 log-tire in the open chinniey was supplemente<l by 
 the faint liglit atibrde<^ by a candle made from, 
 deer-fat, which showt-l him a tall voun<>" woman,, 
 who came forward to shake hands without the 
 slightest embarrassment, an elderly woman, evi- 
 flently the mother, who kept her seat by the tire, 
 explaining she "wasna very weel," and two stout 
 vounix men. 
 
 "Sit in by the fire, ^Ir Morton: there is a snt II 
 touch in the evening air that makes it no un[)lea- 
 sant, and Maggie will get ye something to eat. An 
 liae ye nae news frae the lines? Does it no beat a' 
 that thac Yankees, wha mak such ])retensions to 
 he the only folk i' the warld wiia understan what 
 liherty is, should fail in practice :' What hae we 
 "lone that they shud come in tae disturb us:* Ha€' 
 we nae richt to live doucely and ([uietly under our 
 appointed ruler, that they should come into our ain 
 country to harry and maybe kill us:' ])()d, they 
 are a bonny lot I In the name o' freedom drawing" 
 
20 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 \i i 
 
 j '!'S 
 
 i| 
 
 the sword to liolp the oppressor of Europe and the 
 slaiio'literer of thousands of God's cliihh-en by crea- 
 tion, if no by adoption." 
 
 "We have the comfort," replied Morton, "that 
 tliey liave not got Canada yet." 
 
 "An never will,' replied the settler, "there's no 
 an Auld Countryman on the Chateaugay wha wad 
 iia sooner tint life an a' than gie up his indepen- 
 dence. M}'^ sons an mysel are enrolled in Captain 
 (3i;ilvie's company and niair Yankees than they 
 count on will hansel it's ground afore they win oor 
 puir biggin." 
 
 "Dinna speak sae, gudeman," said his wife, "tho' 
 tlie Lord may chastise he will not deliver us to the 
 oppressor, but, as with the Assyrian, will cause him, 
 tiin he come doon on us, to hear a rumor that shall 
 jnake him to return to his own land. We are but 
 a feeble folk here bv the river-side, but He winna 
 fail them wha trust Hiui." 
 
 Maggie here beckoned the young officer to draw 
 to the table, and the bread and milk tasted all the 
 sweeter to him that they had been spread by so 
 winsome a damsel. After supper Morton was glad 
 to fall in with the family's custom of going early 
 to be<l, and accompanying the lads, whom he found 
 to be frank, hearty fellows, to the outbuilding, slept 
 comfortably alongside them on top of the fragrant 
 fodder. At daylight they were astir, when their 
 guest joined them in their labors, until a shout 
 I'i om Maggie told of breakfast being ready. Seen 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 21 
 
 liy (laylif^ht tlie favcn-abk' impression nuKtc ii[i()ii 
 Morton tho previous eveninj^ was <leepene«l,an<l Im 
 (lid not know wliich most to admire, lier tact wliich 
 never placetl lier at a disadvantage or tlie det'tnos 
 with which she discharjxed lier honseho]<l <lutit's. 
 Reluctantly he left, accepting readily the invitation 
 to revisit them. In a couple of hours he was in 
 camp and reported himself. 
 
 The ac(piaintance thus accidentally formed was 
 cultivated by Moi-te>n, and few evenings passed 
 that his canoe <ud not end its journey at the f' 't. 
 of the bank whence the settler's shanty overlooked 
 the Chateaugay. The more he knew of the family 
 the nn)re he was atti'acted, and before Unvj; he v.as 
 on familiar terms with all its mend>ers. The in- 
 action of camp-life in the backwoods ceased to be 
 wearisome and thei'e was a s^low and a jo\'ousness 
 in his days which he had never before known. 80 
 it came, that when, one afternoon, the oi-derly- 
 senxeant notified him the otHcer in connnand de- 
 sii-ed to see him, the prospect of being sent away 
 caused him a pang of vexation. His orders were 
 to Vie ready to stai't at daylight for the frontier 
 with despatches for the Indian guard and to collect 
 what information he could with regard to the Am- 
 erican army encamped at Four Corners. "I trust 
 to your discretion," said the officer, "as to what 
 means you will use to get it, but we want to know 
 the extent of the foi'ce and the prospect of their 
 laovinnr. I will mvc you an Indian as a i^uide, and 
 
22 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I 
 
 one who speaks Englisli." Morton withdrew, pleased 
 that the order was not one of recall to his regiment 
 at Montreal, anrl spent the evening with the For- 
 .syths. The news of his departure, on an errand 
 that involved some danjjer, even thouoli it would 
 last only a few days, dampened the innocent mirth 
 nf the household and the soldier was vain enough 
 to think Maggie gave his hand a warmer pressure 
 than usual when he left. He rose with the first 
 .streak of daylight and liad finished his breakfast 
 when he was told his guide was waiting. Hastily 
 strapping his cloak on his hack and snatching u[) 
 Ids musket, he went out and beheld an Indian 
 standing stolidly on the road. Morton noted that 
 he was taller than the average of his race, and, de- 
 spite his grizzled hair, gave every sign of unabated 
 vigoi'. He was dressed in native fashion and liis 
 face was hideous with war-paint. Without utter- 
 ing a word, he led the way and they were soon 
 buried in the woods. The Indian's pace, consider- 
 in cr the nature of the jj^round and the obstacles 
 presented, was marvellously rapid, and induced nu 
 fatigue. Morton vigorously exerted himself to 
 keep up with him and, as he did so, admired the 
 deftness with which the Indian passed obstacles 
 which he laboriously overcame. The ease and 
 smoothness with which the red man silently slip- 
 ped through thickets and fallen trees, he compared 
 to the motion of a fish, and his own awkwardness 
 to t-hat of a blindfolded man, who stumbled at every 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 2:\ 
 
 obstacle. They liad travelled thus for over two 
 hours when siuklenly the Indi»\n halted, peered 
 carefully forward, and then signed to Morton ho 
 stand still. Falling on his knets the guide crept, 
 or rather glided forward. Disregarding his sign, 
 Morton shortly followed until the object of the In- 
 dian's (juest came in sight. Three deer were graz- 
 ing on a natural meadow by the side of a creek. 
 Slowly the hunter raised his gun and its report 
 was the first intimation the timid creatures had 
 that an enemy was near. The youngest and 
 plumpest had fallen; the others bounded into the 
 bush. Standing over the graceful creature, whose 
 sides still palpitated, the Indian said, "Lift." It 
 was the first word he had uttered. Morton drew 
 the four hoofs together and did so. " Put on your 
 shoulder," added the guide. Morton laughed and 
 set the animal down; he could lift it but to carry 
 it was out of the question. Without moving a 
 feature, the Indian grasped the deer by its legs, 
 swung it round his neck, and stepped out as if the 
 load were no burden, and which he bore until the 
 swamp was passed and a ridge was reached, when 
 he tied the hoofs together with a withe and swuny; 
 the carcase from as lofty a branch as he could 
 reach. Half an hour afterwards he pointed to a 
 slight disturbance in the litter of the forest. "In- 
 dian passed here this morning." 
 
 "How do you know it was an Indian?" 
 
 "By mark of moccasin." 
 
24 
 
 (J LEANER TALES. 
 
 *'But some white men wear moccasins." 
 "Yes, but wliite man steps ditferently. The wild 
 (hick flies no more Hke the tame duck than the In- 
 dian walks like the pale face." 
 
 Followin,<x the trail thus struck, thev were soon 
 hailed by a scout and in the midst of the camp of 
 the frontier ujuard they sou«^ht. Morton counted 
 seventeen Indians lounf,nng or sleeping about the 
 fire, and was told there were as many more lurking 
 in the bush, watching the enemy, who had, of late, 
 l)een sending in strong parties to make petty raids 
 upon the few settlers who lived on the Canadian 
 side of the boundary. As the captain was absent 
 and would not be back until the afternoon, Morton 
 could only await his return, and the rest was not 
 unwelcome, for the rapid journey had induced 
 some fatigue, an<l he was interested in watching 
 the Indians, this being his first experience with 
 them apart from white men. They paid nuich 
 deference to his guide, whose name he now leai'ned 
 was Hemlock, and the Indian of whom he made 
 en(piiry told him the reason was that lie was the 
 son of a great sachem in a tribe now destro^xnl, 
 and was "a big medicine." Hemlock accepted their 
 tributes to his superiority with unmoved counten- 
 ance and as a matter of course, until, after a long 
 povr-wow, he stretched himself on the ground, face- 
 downwards, and went to sleep. Associating the 
 Indians witli gloomy morosene^^^s, and a stolidity 
 insensible alike to pain or mirth, ^lorton was sur- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 2.5 
 
 prised to see l»ow, wlien left to themselves, they 
 chattered like children, lau<died,and played hovish 
 tricks upon one another, and re^n'etted he could 
 not undi.'rstand what they were saying. It' lu^ ha<l, 
 he wouKl liave found their talk was the shallowest 
 of hanter. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the capt lin returned and 
 warmly welcomed Morton. Althou<^h dressed like 
 an Indian, his only distinj^uishinu^ feature heing a 
 captain's scarlet sash, Captain Perrigo was a white 
 laan and English in speech, his familiarity with 
 the Indians and their lanu^uai^e havinj^ been ac- 
 (|uire<l during Ins residence at Caughnawaga. He 
 was thoroughly conversant with all that was pass- 
 ing in the American camp and expressed his belief 
 that only the timidity of Cieneral Hamptcni pre- 
 vented a move on Canada. The force was so stroni*- 
 and well-e(pnpped that he believed it could not l»e 
 checked until the island of Montreal was leached. 
 "How can so large an army move tln-ough these 
 woods^" asked Morton; "wh}', even your handful of 
 Indians could cut up a regiment in half an hour." 
 
 "You forget," replied Perrigo, "that the larger 
 part of these American soldiers have been reared 
 on farms and are familiar with the bush. They 
 are at home with the axe, and have scouts as well- 
 trained to bush-ficjhtinor as our own. Worse than 
 that, many of the American settlers who left the 
 Chateaugay and the other Huntingdon settlements 
 at the declaration of war are with them as iruides." 
 
26 
 
 (a.EANKU TALES. 
 
 II 
 
 "I should like t<» sec the Amoricp.n anuy," sal<l 
 Morton. 
 
 "That is easy: wii reconnoitre their camp this 
 evenin<^ and you may •.,'^0 with us." 
 
 By this time dinner was ready and it was more 
 appetizino- tlian Morton hK)ked for. Hendock.oii 
 his arrival, haa told where he had left the carcase 
 of the deer, which two of the Indians went for an<l 
 returned with it slunjj;- between them on a pole. 
 This they had cooked along with pieces of fat pork. 
 M'he venison, for a wonder, proved to he tender and 
 succulent, and was .^aten with biscuit, of which 
 there was an ainindance. When the time came to 
 move, Perrigo gave the word, when 28 of his men 
 fell into line, Hendock and Morton accompanyini;- 
 them. They moved in silence in single file, thi- 
 fleetest runner of their number leading about two 
 hundred yards ahead, to see that the way was clear. 
 No word was spoker except when, on gaining tlu' 
 sumniit of a stony knoll, Perrigo whis^pered to 
 Morton that they had crossed the boundary and 
 were in the United States. As they proceeded 
 they moved more slowly, showing they were near- 
 ing the enemy, and twice their scout signalled to 
 them to halt while he reconnoitred. The second 
 time Perrigo went forward and they waited while 
 he scanned the enemy's position. On returning, 
 they moved westward, when the accustomed sound 
 of the tramp of a numerous body of troops met the 
 ear of Morton, followed by the commands of the 
 
HKMT/H'K. 
 
 27 
 
 a<ljutaiit. Motionin;^ to Morton to follow him, Pcr- 
 ri;^^() cautiously crept forward to a clump of undor- 
 '^rowth.and pccrini^ throUf^h it the American camj) 
 was seen. To the riixht stood the cluster of wooden 
 Ituildiu'Ts which foniiLMl the v ill. .<;(»( )f Four (^)rners, 
 and on the fields that sloped up from it southwards, 
 shone peacefully in the setting sun long rows of 
 white tents. On a small Held between the camp 
 and the village two regiments wen* being drilled; 
 at one corner was a body of mounted officers ob- 
 s<'rving them. The woods, in which the British 
 party lay concealed, so closely hem?ned in the thin 
 line of l)uildings that formed the villafje, that the 
 parade-ground wa:-^ not over .'500 yards distant. 
 
 Morton scanned the troops as they went through 
 their evolutions and markeil, with some complac- 
 ency, that, although tall and wiiy men, they were 
 slouchy in their movements and marched like dock- 
 laborers. "Could we not f^iv^-' those fellows a friiiht?" 
 lie whispered to Perrigo. 
 
 "If we were sure their patrols are not out we 
 could. If they are, they might flank us." 
 
 "Xo danger," interposed Hendock, "seel" and he 
 pointed to the guard-house. whei*e the men detailed 
 for the night's pati'ols were wuiiing. 
 
 "All right," answered Perrigo, "I will send two 
 or three to creep round to the Imsh on the right to 
 cause a diversion." 
 
 "Stay," said Morton, "I want to get a chjser view 
 and Hendock will go with me." 
 
2.S 
 
 (il.KANKIl TAM:S. 
 
 tl 
 
 It wjis so <lrci(l<'(l upon, Riid while tlicy pickcil 
 
 WW wj 
 
 ly 
 
 to tl 
 
 ic wrs 
 
 t, I 
 
 crriLfo l»usi('( 
 
 .1 I 
 
 inns( 
 
 IF 
 
 111 
 
 ('xtcndiM'f liis little force alon'*; the e<l«re of tli • 
 woods, so as to make theii' nuiuhers appear i't)riind- 
 ahle. 'PIk' most dan;^a'i'oiis part ot* Moi'ton's inovc- 
 liieiit was crossiujr two rojids, hut fleinlock, wh<» 
 knew the around thoroughly, selected parts where 
 th(»i'e were bends, so that they could not be seen by 
 travellers a])proachin^- either way. When llendock 
 droj)])ed on all fours and crept he was followed by 
 .\b)rton, who found Ik; was at the e(lnv of th<' fiejil 
 on which tlu' (h'ill was in di-olh 
 
 V 
 
 'ess. 
 
 fhe troop 
 
 had i^one throuu^li the routine niovenii'nts and were 
 (h'awn u)) in line, awaitini;- the inspection of the 
 i^eneral officer, who, with his escort, was ridini;- 
 from the lower part of the field. A stout, ehh'rly 
 man rode in advance on a splemlid black horse. 
 Hendock whispered it was General Hampton. As 
 they drew noa. ; Morton started in amaze, for 
 amon<^ his staff, despite his handsome uniform, 
 he recoi.(nize(l the countenance of the spy he hal 
 twice shot at. His astonishment was checked l)V 
 a i^nii'i^lini^ sound of anger from his conipanion, an<l 
 turniui;' he saw that Hendock had partly risen, 
 i^i'aspini;- his musket as if about to tire, his face so 
 swollen witli ra<;e that tiie cords of the neck stood 
 out. 'Stop," said Morton, as he chitched his buck- 
 skin jacket, "if we fire now wdiile they are in rank 
 we are lost; wait until they are dismissed and in 
 disorder." 
 
IIKMI.OCK. 
 
 20 
 
 "I caiv not: tliricc have I iiiisstMl liim oi* \nU'\ 
 now 1m' falls and Unnlock is reven<^tMl." H«' |)uIKm1 
 tht' tri«;';;*«'r, Imt tlu' Hint snappccl liarnilcssly, for 
 tlif |>rinii!j;^ luid Ikm'Ii lost. The disappointment 
 ivstored his self-possession and he drew haek with 
 )i scowl that made Morton's tiesh creep. On th«; 
 ciivaleade of otKeers came, chattini^ inieoncernedly, 
 and wheeled within twenty yards of where Morton 
 stood. He liad a <;ood view of the spy's face, and 
 he thou<;ht he had never seen one where cnnninic 
 and selfishness were so stron<^ly maiked. "A nwm 
 who would kill his mother if she stood in his way," 
 muttered Morton. "And for his passin;;* pleasure? 
 tear out the heart of a father," addecl Hemlock in 
 a hitter tone. They noticed how liau;^htily ( i(mi. 
 Hampton bore himself and how superciliously lu; 
 ((lanced at the men as lie passed up and down their 
 ranks. When he had finished, he put spurs to his 
 horse and galloped towards the house in the villa<;e 
 where his (piarters were established, followed by 
 his escort. The troops were then dismissed and as 
 each company tiled away in the early twilight to- 
 wards its respective camp, Morton said "Now is 
 our time." Hemlock rose, drew himself to his full 
 heioht, seemed for a few seconds lo be jjatherinii* 
 strength, and then let out a screech, so piercing 
 and terrific that Morton, who had not before heard 
 the war-whoop, would not have believed a luiman 
 being could make such a sound. It was the siirnal 
 to Perrigo's men, and they answered from different 
 
 i 
 
.*]0 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 parts of tlie busli in similar fasliion. The Aineri- 
 tan soldiurs, on tlioir way to their tents, halted in 
 amaze, while from new and unexpected (piarters, 
 rose the blood-curdling yell, ^ivin^^ the impression 
 that they were heinc;' surrounded from the nortli 
 and west by a horde of Indians, a foe of whom 
 they were in mortal drea<l. Taken by surprise, 
 they broke and ran towards the camp, and Morton 
 could see the inmates of the tents swarming out 
 and running: to meet them, as if to find out the 
 cause of alarm. Hendock and Morton were now 
 loading and firing as (quickly as they could, th(» 
 former never intermitting his ear-piercing shrieks, 
 while the edge of the bush to their left was dotted 
 with puffs of smoke from the guns of Perrigos 
 band. "() for five hundred more!" cried Morton 
 in his excitement, "and we would rout this army of 
 cowards." The confusion and clamc)r in tlie camp 
 increased and the contradictory orders of officers 
 were paid no lieed to by men who only wanted to 
 know where they couM fly to escape the detested 
 Indians. Amid the excitement rang out a bugle, 
 and tui'ning whence the sound came, Morton saw 
 it was from the General's headquartei's and that, 
 to its sununons, horsemen were uriiinof their way. 
 "Hidil" exclaimed Hendock, "these are scouts; some 
 of them Indians. We must go, for they will liold 
 the roads." With a hnal yell he plunged into the 
 bush and Morton followed. They had not gone 
 far when Hemlock turned and grasped his shoul- 
 
 I 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 31 
 
 (ler. As they stood, the lioof's of advancing horses 
 were heard. The sound came nearer an<l Morton 
 ouessed they were riding along tlie east and west 
 road in front of where he stood and which tliev 
 liad been about to cross. The troop swept past 
 and then the order "Halt!" was shouted. "Louis, 
 take live men and scour the bush from the river 
 up until you hear from tlie party who are search- 
 ing the bush from above. The screeching devils 
 Vv'ho hid here cannot escape between you. We will 
 patrol the road and shoot them if they do." The 
 motion of the men ordered to dismount was heard. 
 "Quick," whispered Hemlock, "or they will be 
 upon us," and facing westward he led to the brink 
 of what seemed to be a precipice, from the foot of 
 which rose the .sound of rushing water. Heudock 
 slipped his gun into his belt in front of him and 
 (lid the same with Morton's, then, before he knew 
 what was meant, Morton was grasped in his iron 
 clutch, unable to move, his head tucked into his 
 breast, and with a wild flinij over the edge of the 
 Itank they went rolling and crashing downwards, 
 tln'ough the bushes and shrubs that faced it. On 
 they rolled until a final bounce threw them into a 
 pool of the river. Without a moment's delay. Hem- 
 lock cauoht Morton's riiilit arm and draiimnl him 
 a considerable distance down the narrow and shal- 
 low stream l^ehind a clump of bushes. Breath- 
 less and excited by the rapid motion, Morton sank 
 })rone on the turf, while Heudock, laying aside the 
 
 ti'i 
 
 ^1 
 
 !:. 
 
32 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 i; 
 
 ;i 
 
 w 
 
 f^ains, wliich the water had rentlererl useless, drew 
 liis tomahawk, wliich he held ready for use, while 
 he bent forward listening intently. In a few min- 
 utes Morton became conscious of men stealthily 
 approaching, and devoutly thanked God when he 
 perceived they were all on the other side of the 
 river from where they were concealed. On they 
 came, searching every place of possible conceal- 
 ment, with a rapidity that only children of the 
 woods can attain. Soon they were directly oppo- 
 site and passed on. Hendock relaxed his strained 
 attitude, drew a long breath, and sat down beside 
 Morton. "They did not think we had time to cross 
 the river, but when they do not tind us they will 
 come back on this side." 
 
 " What shall wo do next?" asked Morton. 
 
 "Wait till it is dark enough to creep across iu* 
 road at the bridge." 
 
 "And if they come back before then?" 
 
 " Fight them," abruptly answered Hendock. 
 
 In the narrow goi'ge where they lay the gloom 
 quickly gathered, and it soon grew so dark that 
 Morton's fears as to the searching-party returnini,^ 
 were relieved. When the last streak of day had 
 disappeared, Hemlock led the way, and they crept 
 as quickly as the nature of the ground would per- 
 mit down the river, whose noisy brawl blotted out 
 the sound they made. 
 
 Coming out at a pond, where the water had been 
 dammed to drive a small mill, Hemlock stopped 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 3.S 
 
 and listened. The road with its bridge was directly 
 in front, and it was likely guards were there posted. 
 As they watched, the door of a house opened, and a 
 man came out with a lantern. It was the miller 
 rroinof to the mill. As he swunjj the lifd)t its beams 
 shone along the road, failing to reveal a sentinel. 
 When he passed into the mill, Hemlock led the 
 way under the shade of the trees that fringed the 
 mill-pond, crossed the road, and down into the 
 rocky bed of the stream on the other side. Paus- 
 ing to let Morton gain his breath after the run, he 
 said in his ear, "We are safe now and can wait for 
 the moon." 
 
 "Can't we rejoin Perrigo^' asked Morton. 
 
 "No; scouts in woods over there; hide tonight 
 and go back tomorrow. 
 
 The strain of excitement over, Morton stretched 
 himself on the ferns that abounded and quickly fell 
 asleep. 
 
il 
 
 CHArXER III. 
 
 When Morton opened his eyes he found the dell, 
 or rather gorge, for the sides were almost precipit- 
 ous though clad with vegetation, was lit up by the 
 moon, and Hemlock by his side, sitting Indian 
 fashion, clasping his knees. Without uttering a 
 word, he rose on perceiving the young officer w^as 
 awake and lifted his gun to move on. Morton 
 obeyed the mute sign and they began to descend 
 the bed of the stream. It was a task of some diffi- 
 culty, for it abounded in rocks and often there was 
 no foothold at the sides, the water laving the clifi's 
 that formed the banks. Had it not been that the 
 season was an unusually dry one, leaving the river 
 bed largely bare, Morton could not have kept up 
 with his companion. Chilled by his wet garments, 
 the exercise was rather grateful to him and he ex- 
 erted himself to overcome the obstacles in his path. 
 As they went on, the banks grew higher and the 
 gorge more narrow, until, turning a bend, Morton 
 perceived the river dashed down a channel cleft 
 out of a rock, which rose a pillared wall on one 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 35 
 
 fside and on tlie other liad been rendered eonca\ o 
 :AiV the washing down of tlie debris of ages. High 
 ibove, sliafts of inoonh'ght struggled thru' the foli- 
 i(re and, falling irregularly on the sides, brought 
 into ghastly relief the nakedness uf the walls of 
 the rocky prison. Deeply impressed M(n-ton fol- 
 lowed his ifuide down the Hooniv chasm, whence 
 the sound of falling water came, and they pas.-ed 
 two small falls. Below the lower one, where the 
 kails drew nearer, as if they grudged the scanty 
 Space they had been affording the tunniltU(His 
 stream for its passage, the clill's grew loftier. 
 Kenilock halted, and pointing to a water-worn re- 
 jt'ss in the rocks, that afforded some covering, sfvid, 
 'Sleep there." Morton lay down, but he was in 
 
 10 humor to sleep again. The magnificence of tlie 
 h»ck-hevvn chamber in which he lay, with a giunt 
 tlitf bendino- over him, had excited his imagina- 
 lion, and his eyes wandered from the foaming fulls 
 
 11 front of him to the solemn lieights, wh(xse walls 
 Mie flecked with shrubs and topped l>y spruce trees. 
 
 he contrast of the unceasinor noise and motion of 
 
 CD 
 
 he river with the eternal silence and imperturb- 
 lility of the rocks, deeply impressed him. Thus 
 fiiiie passed and when he had scanned the scene to 
 lis satisfaction, his interest turned to his compan- 
 <»n, whohad left him and stood beneath a pillar of 
 <)ck hiorher than its fellows, where the cha^in 
 laiTowed into a mere tunnel. Evidently supposing 
 lat Morton was sound asleep, he was going thror.gli 
 
 m 
 
S6 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 II 
 
 ! 
 
 those motions of incantation by whieli Indian nierli- 
 cine-men profess to evoke the spirits. He writhed 
 until his contortions were horrible, while the work- 
 ing of his features showed he was inwardly strivint; 
 to induce an exalted and morbid condition of feel- 
 ing. He smote his breast resounding blows, he 
 flung himself downwards on the rock and shook 
 himself until his body jerked with involuntary 
 twitchings, he shrieked in hollow tones and pluck- 
 ed at his hair, until the sweat rolled down his 
 cheeks. After a tit of hysterical laughter he sank 
 in a swoon, which lasted so long that Morton was 
 debatiufj whether he should not ffo over to him. 
 All this time the moon had been sailing upward 
 and now stood directly over the chasm, its beams 
 transforming the foaming river into a channel of 
 milky whiteness and, where it broke into curls at 
 the falls, into streams of pearls, while the foliage 
 that tempered the stern outline of the rocks, be- 
 dewed by the spray that kept them constantly 
 moist, glistened as if sprinkled with diamond-dust. 
 The moonlight streamed on the prostrate body of 
 the Indian, and as he awoke from his trance and 
 slowly raised himself, Morton read in his face a 
 wonderful change — a look of calmness and of su- 
 pernatural ecstasy. With great dignity he drew 
 himself up and stepped forward a few paces until 
 he stood directly beneath the pillar of rock. Then 
 he spoke: "Spirit of the wood and stream, who 
 loves this best of all thine abodes, come to me. 
 
 •u 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 37 
 
 Hemlock seeks thee to help hiin. The wounded 
 moose will never breathe again the niorninL^-air, 
 the stricken pine-tree never put forth fresh shoots, 
 and Hendock is wounded and stricken and growing 
 old. Shall the hand grow feeble before the blow 
 is dealt, the eye grow dim before mine enemy is 
 slain, and my ear grow deaf before it hears his 
 death-groan? The leaves that fall rot and the 
 water that passeth returneth not ; therefore, oh 
 Spirit, grant to Hemlock liis prayer, that before 
 night comes he may find whom he seeks. Again, 
 tliis day, has he escaped me, shielded l)y his medi- 
 cine. Break the spell, O Spirit; take away the 
 charm that holds my arm when I aim the blow, and 
 pluck away the shield the evil ones hold over him! 
 The eajxle has his nest on the hill and the fox his 
 lair in the valley, but Hemlock has no home. The 
 doe fondles its fawn and the tired swallow is 
 helped across the great water on the wings of its 
 sons, but Hemlock has no children. The light of 
 his eyes was taken from him, the joy of his heart 
 was frozen. The Yankee stole his land, slew his 
 brothers, bewitched his only daughter, and drove 
 liiia awt^y, and now he is a sick-struck man, whom 
 none come near. Spirit, grant the prayer of Hem- 
 lock; break the spell that binds me, that I may 
 taste the blood of mine enemy and I shall die 
 happy." 
 
 He paused and assumed a listening attitude as if 
 awaiting an answer. That in his morbid state of 
 
'f 
 
 2H 
 
 (JI.EAXEK TAf.KS. 
 
 ill i:i: 
 
 inin«l he fancied lie lieanl the Spirit in reply wa> 
 evi<]ent, for he broke out aixain: 
 
 "I am desolate; my heart is very bitter. The 
 smoke of the wi^^wams of my clan rises no more; 1 
 alone am left. Vlien the north wind tells where 
 are the leaves of last summer I will say where art 
 the wairioi's of my tribe. As the beaver the whit< 
 man came among us, but he crushed us like tin 
 bear: the serpent sings on the rock but he bites in 
 the grass. We were deceived and robbed of tlif 
 lands of our fathers. Our destroyer is near, lie i^ 
 on the war-path, his hatchet is raised against tli» 
 Great Father. Blind his eyes, trip his feet with 
 magic, () Oki, and take the spell from the arm dt 
 Hemlock. The eagle soars to the mountain when 
 tlie loon keeps to the valley; the snow-bird breasts 
 the storm when the moose seeks the cedar-brake: 
 the wolf knows no master and the catamount will 
 not tiv, so the Indian cliufifs to liis huntinsf-irround 
 and will not be the slave of tlie stranger. Spirit, 
 help to destroy the destroyer and to rob the robber. 
 The hunted deer dies of his wounds in the strange 
 forest. The arrows of the Indian are nigh spent 
 and he mourns alone. The glory of our nation lui> 
 faded as the tii-e of the forest in the mornin«x-suii. 
 and few live to take revenge. Oki, speak, and 
 ijtrengthen the heart of Hemlock for battle!" 
 
 The Indian fell prostrate before the gaunt pillar of 
 stone to which he spoke and lay there for some time. 
 When he rose, there was a weary look in his ini- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 89 
 
 passive features. "The Spirit has spoken: he tells 
 Hemlock he will answer him in a dream." Ad- 
 vancing towards Morton Ik lay down and fell asleep. 
 
 Hiorh above liim shafts of sunli^jht were inter- 
 woven with the foliage of the trees that overhnng 
 the crest of the chasm, forming a radiant "eiling, 
 when Mort( n awoke. The weirdly romantic gulf 
 in which he lay, coupled with the strange scenes of 
 the night, caused liim to think the past was a 
 dream, but going over the several details the sense 
 of reality was restored, and there, a few feet from 
 him, was stretched the sinewy form of the Indian. 
 "Wlio could fancy that a being so stolid, heavy, 
 and matter - of - fact," asked Morton of himself, 
 "should show such keenness of feeling and so active 
 an imajjination? And, vet, how little we know of 
 what sleeps in the bosoms of our fellows. Mark 
 that sullen pool above the cataract! How dead 
 and commonplace its water appears. It is swept 
 over the brink and, breaking into a hundred new 
 forms, instantly reveals there dwelt dormant be- 
 neath its placid surface a life and a beauty un- 
 dreamt of. We are not all as we seem, and so with 
 this much-tried son of the forest." 
 
 He rose to bathe his stiffened limbs in the river 
 and the motion caused Hemlock to spring to his 
 feet. He glanced at the sky, and remarked that 
 he had slept too long. While Morton bathed, 
 Hemlock busied himself in contriving a scoop of 
 withes and birch bark, vrith which, standing be- 
 
! I 
 
 40 
 
 fj LEA NEK TALES. 
 
 neath the fall, lie quickly tossed out a number of 
 trout. A Hint supplied tire and on the embers tlu* 
 tish as caught were laid to roast, and whether it 
 was so, or was due to his keen appetite, Morton 
 tliouglit they tasted sweeter than when cleaned. 
 With the biscuit in their pouches, though wet, they 
 made a fair breakfast. As they finished, a faint 
 echo of drums and tifes was wafted to them. "We 
 will stay a little while," said Hemlock, "to let th«' 
 scouts go back to camp, for they would search the 
 woods affain this morninjj." 
 
 "And what then?" asked Morton. 
 
 *' We will go back to Perrigo, who is near-by." 
 
 "Would they not fly to Canada after what they 
 did?" 
 
 "Indians are like the snake. W^hen it is hunted, 
 it does not fly; it hides. They are waiting for us." 
 
 "Where were you taught to speak English so 
 well, Hemlock?" 
 
 "I did not need to be taught; I learnt it with 
 the Iroquois. I was born near an English settle- 
 ment and my choice companion was an English 
 girl, w^e played together, and were te.ught together 
 by the missionary; long after, she became my wife." 
 
 "But you are not a Christian?" 
 
 "No; when I saw tiie white man's ways I wanted 
 not liis religion." 
 
 "And your wife, is she living?" 
 
 "Hemlock does not lay his heart open to the 
 stranger; he is alone in the world." 
 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 41 
 
 Rospecting liis rosorvo, and tlio' curious to know 
 it' the guardian-spirit of the chasm liad spoke!) to 
 liiin in liis dreams, Morton changed the suhject, the 
 more so as he did not wish his companion to know 
 tliat he had been the unwitting witness of his in- 
 vocation ceremonial. He asked about the chasm 
 in whose solenni depths they found shelter, and 
 Heudock told how it had been known to all the 
 seven nations of the Irocjuois and regarded by them 
 as a chosen abode of the spirits, the more so as its 
 origin was supernatural. There had been a v<'ry 
 rainy season and the beavers had their villages 
 Hooded and were in danger of being destroyed. 
 Two of them volunteered to visit the spirit-land 
 and beseech the help of their oki, which he pro- 
 mised. He came one dark ni<>:ht and with a sinjrle 
 Hap of his tail smote the rock, splitting it in two 
 and allowing the waters to drain into the low 
 country beneath. Morton listened gravely, seeing 
 his companion spoke in all seriousness, and thought 
 the tale might be an Indian version of the earth - 
 <liiake, or other convdsion of nature, by which the 
 bed of sandstone had been rent asunder, and a 
 channel thus attbrde 1 for the surplus waters of the 
 adjoining heights. The trees and bushes which 
 had found an airy foothold in crevices, and the 
 weather-beaten and lichened faces of the cliffs, told 
 how remote that time must have been. 
 
 It was wearing on to noon before Hendock con- 
 sidered it safe to move. The delay they spenf in 
 
42 
 
 CiLKANKIi TALES. 
 
 clt'jiiiin^ tliL'ir arms, ami Morton, to his iv^nt 
 t'oiiiid that his powder was useless from heiiif^ wet 
 The Indian, more provident, had saved some inn 
 water-proof poucli of ottci* skin, hut he had t\^ ^ 
 litth' to do more than Irnd a sin<d«' charijre for hiJ 
 i,ani. Moi'ton took the opportunity to cUmui aini 
 arranj*"e his unifoi-m as 1m' ])est could and wlnii 
 ready to move felt he looked more as hecanu* ai, 
 ofticcr of the Kind's army than when ho awok' 
 Hendoek led the way to where a cleft in the wn! 
 of rocks attonled a possibility of ascent, and, wit! 
 the occasional aid of his outsti-etched arm, Mortiti: 
 mana;^ed to reach the sunnnit. When ho had, li'| 
 perceived he stood on a plain of table-rock, tli 
 cleavaj^o of which formed the chasm, of whoso ox I 
 istenco the explorer could have no intimation until 
 he reached its la-ink. They had not gone far, untij 
 Hendoek halted and looked intentlv at the ^jrouiv 
 "A party of Yankees have passe«-c here within ail 
 hour; a do/en or m(>i'e of them. See the trail tij 
 their muskets!" 
 
 "How do you know they have just passed?" 
 "The dew has not been dry here over an hoiiil 
 and they passed when it was gone. They aiv 
 searching for us, for one went to that bush tlui' 
 to see no one was hidinor." 
 
 Morton looked perplexed, for nothing was mor 
 distasteful than to be taken prisoner. "Had W' 
 not," ho suggested, "better return to the chasm aii' 
 wait for niijht?" 
 
HKMI.ocK. 
 
 4:i 
 
 "It is too I»it»'," rrplird Hcmlork, "wln'ii tiny 
 C'oiiH* loick tliry w'ouM sec our tniil ami follow it. 
 We will luivf to y:o on niul it* W(^ 'H't across tin* 
 i()>i<l we an* safr," and without anotluT word lie 
 wmt oil until tin' road was roacln'd. ( )n scainiinL; 
 it, iM't'orc makinj^" a dash across, tlu'V |>i*rccivo(l, to 
 their dismay, a mounted sentry so j)ost»'d as to 
 ^^dve a dear view of the portion of the road they 
 were standing* Ijy. Hemlock t^ave a j^runt of dis- 
 nppointment and returned into the husli and after 
 a few miruite's' ra])id walkin*^ turned to Morton 
 with the woi'ds, "You stay here, until I go and see 
 the roa<l. Over there is the track (^f a short-cut 
 hetween F( ur Corners and the blockhouse, so if 
 Yankees pass they will keep to it and not see you. 
 ])() not leave until I come back." 
 
 Morton threw himscdf on the grass to await his 
 report, and the rest was grate^^ul, for the day was 
 hot and their short tramp fast. The minutes 
 sped without sign of the Indian, who ht^ conjec- 
 tured was finding it difficult to discover a clear 
 passage. It was now plain that tlie Americans 
 had discovei"(Ml tlieir tracks of the preceding even- 
 inii' fvii<l had established a cordon to ensux'c their 
 i"iptui-e. 80 absolute was Morton's faith in Hem- 
 lock's skill that he f(,'It little perturbed and was 
 C'untiilent they would be in Pei'rigo's camp before 
 lonuf. Then his thoughts wandered to a subject 
 that bad come of late to be pleasant to him, to the 
 household by the Chateaugay, and he sa^v in fancy 
 
44 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 t 
 
 Maggie bustling about her daily ta.sks,ancl he smiled. 
 
 "In the name of the United States of America I 
 command you to yield as prisoner," shouted a \ oico 
 with a nasal twang. 
 
 Morton bounded to his feet. In front of him, 
 within four yards, stood the spy, holding a musket, 
 with his finger on the trigger. 
 
 "I mout hev shot ye dead a- laying there," he 
 said, "but I mean to take game like you alive. I 
 ':'an make more out o' your skin when you can wag 
 yer tongue. Yield peaceable, younf man, and giv 
 up yer arms." 
 
 "Yield! And to a spy! Never!" shoute.l Morton 
 indignantly, and he sprang like a panth.er at his 
 foe. Quick as was his movement, the American 
 was not quite taken by surprise, for he fired, but 
 the bullet missed. The next monient Morton was 
 on him and they grappled. Both were strong men, 
 but the American was older and had V)etter staying 
 powei", and as they wrestled Morton felt he would 
 be thrown, when he bethought him of a certain 
 trip he had often used successfully in his school 
 days. He made the feint, put out his foot, and the 
 Ameiican fell with a crash, underneath him. 
 
 "Villain," he whispered hoarsely, "you twice es- 
 caped me, but will not again," and he grasped his 
 throat with one hand while he held his ri<j:ht arm 
 with the othei-. 
 
 "Quarter," gasped the xVmerican,who was in dan- 
 ger of being choketl, "I yield." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 45 
 
 "Quarter to a spy!" exclaimed Morton. 
 
 "I ain't no spy. I'm Major Slocum, brevet-rank, 
 of Ginral Hampton's staff." 
 
 "Not a spy! You were to have been shot for one." 
 
 "I was on special service, when I was informed 
 on by an ongrateful cuss. I'm an honorable officer 
 and appeal to yer honor as a Britisher. Take my 
 sword; I yield your prisoner." 
 
 "If I let you go; will you lead me in safety 
 across your lines, and release my guide Hemlock, 
 if he has been taken prisoner?" 
 
 "Sartainly I will; Slocum's word is a? good as 
 his bond. Take your hands off me and i will set 
 you and your Injun to hum in an hour." 
 
 Morton released his grasp, and stood up, drew 
 his sword, and awaited Slocum's rising. With a 
 deft movement the American thrust his hand into 
 his belt, drew a heavy, short-bladed knife, and shot 
 it forward from his palm with an ease and dexter- 
 ity that indicated much practice. Morton's eye 
 caught the gleam of the steel and he sprang back, 
 and in so doing saved his life, for the point of the 
 blade, which would have pierced his breast, stuck 
 in his right thigh for an instant and dropped out. 
 In a towering passion of indignation, which made 
 him unconscious of the pain and flow of blood, he 
 rushed upon the American, who had sprung to his 
 feet and lifted his sv/ord in time to foil Mor- 
 ton's thrust. "Vile wretch, you shall die as traitors 
 die!" exclaimed Morton, and the clash of steel was 
 
4G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 
 incessant. He was much the better swordsman, 
 but his impetuosity and anger deprived liim of the 
 advantage of Ins skill, and stepping backward, 
 Slocum's long swor»l. wielded l>y his long arm, kept 
 him at bay. Morton's anger increased with the 
 difficulty in dealing a deadly thrust, until, in mak- 
 ing a lunge, he stumbled over a fallen log. Had 
 he been unwounded he would have instantly re- 
 covered himself. The wrench to his pierced leg 
 shot a thrill of agony to his heart, and the weak- 
 ened knee refused its office. In a moment Slocum 
 had him on his back and planting his foot on 
 the bleeding wound, pressed it with all his might, 
 while he placed the point of his sword on his 
 throat. A mocking leer lit up his yellow face as 
 he said composedly: "I don't see how yer mother 
 hit you go out alone; you're green as garden -sass. 
 Thought Major Slocum would be your obedient 
 servant and lead you and yer infernal Injun past 
 the lines! You poor trash of a Britislier! An you 
 sucked in my talk about honor and let go yer holt 
 on my throat! You poor innocent, its like stabbing 
 a baby to put my sword through yer gizzard. Say, 
 sonny, wouldn't you like to live?" 
 
 The pain of his wound was excruciating, yet 
 Morton answered composedly, ''I'd die a thousand 
 times before I would beg my life of you. I am 
 not tlie first of His Majesty's service to have lost 
 his life throu<;h believini:: there was honor in an 
 American officer." 
 
 "110 a citi 
 Juing a pati 
 Vashingtou, 
 Winare meal \ 
 a red -coat j 
 )infort in ki^ 
 fegive, if Ilei 
 real. Slocun 
 lonest dollai' £ 
 [laybe is a Lo 
 uidsum. W. 
 do all the U 
 If I was fc 
 your life it is ( 
 jishonorable j: 
 Jritish soldier 
 "^^er can, el 
 plJyou? Per 
 toting you I 
 Iritish officer i| 
 funiel Slocun 
 Vln't yer betf 
 h's agents fc 
 focuiii for valll 
 
 enquired 
 jiust the toe 
 [orton gave a s| 
 f iJo his toruK 
 ^ile, enjoying] 
 fJwI in agon^ 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 47 
 
 'i; 
 
 I'm a citizen of tbo jrreat Republic and will be 
 iuin<'' a patriotic <looty in killing you, and, like 
 ^'dshington, after hanging Andre, will take a good 
 luare meal with the satisfactory feeling that there 
 a red-coat less in the world. But there ain't no 
 )infort in killing a chick like you. Say, what will 
 §0 give, if I let you go? I will take an order on Mon- 
 lival. Slocum ain't the man to refuse to earn an 
 ionest dollar and do a charitable action. Yer father 
 iijiybe is a Lord or a Dook, and he can come down 
 iandsum. Why don't yer speak? I ain't a min<l 
 i[) do all the talking." 
 
 If I was fool enough to believe you and spare 
 )ur life it is enoug-h. Torture me not with vour 
 ishonorable proposals. I can die as becomes a 
 Iritish soldier." 
 
 "Yer can, eh? Waal, what if I don't mind to 
 
 fll you? Perhaps Slocum sees he can make more 
 
 toting you into camp. It ain't eveiy day a 
 
 Iritish officer is caught and I mout get promotion. 
 
 ^urnel Slocum would sound well. Come now, 
 
 idn't yer better sign a little order on your fa- 
 
 ier's agents for a neat little sum, payable to Major 
 
 locuiu for vally received? Yer wound hurts, don't 
 
 enquired Major Slocum with a grin, as he 
 
 iiust the toe of his boot into it. Involuntarily, 
 
 [orton gave a stifled shriek of pain and lay gasping, 
 
 lile his tormentor looked down upon him with a 
 
 lile, enjoying his suflerings. As Morton's eyes 
 
 Bled in agony, the sight of Hemlock met their 
 
48 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 gaze 
 
 He was stealing stealthily up behind Slocuni, 
 who stood all unconscious of his danger, torturing 
 his victim in the hope he would purchase his re- 
 lease. Nearer the Indian came ; his arms now 
 opened out, — he stood behind Slocum, — they closed, 
 — he was in their grasp, and was thrown with a 
 heavy thud on the ground, when, Hemlock bound 
 his arms and le^fs with his sash. Then, with 
 dreadful calmness, he drew his scalping-knife and 
 knelt, one knee on the breast of the prostrate man. 
 "Many times you have escaped me, Slocum, but 
 you die now. The oki granted what I asked; thi 
 spell is gone. I tracked you long, but now yon 
 are mine. I will not kill you at once. You shall 
 die by inches, and have a taste, before the dark 
 cloud swallows you, of the bitterness I have drank 
 at your hands for years." 
 
 So saying, with infernal ingenuity, the herita^' 
 of his tribe in the art of torture, he stripped Slocuii 
 of his clothing and proceeded to draw cuts with hi 
 knife on different parts of the body, nowhere mak 
 ing an incision any deeper than requisite to can? 
 the quivering flesh to feel the full pain. Tli 
 wretched man plied the Indian with all manner vi 
 promises to induce him to desist, and on seeing li^ 
 was relentless in his purpose, was about to shrieli 
 in the hope of attracting aid, when Heml ^k cauglii 
 him by the throat, and snatching up handfuls 
 forest-litter forced them into his mouth. Then li^ 
 resumed his dreadful task. Morton, who had alter 
 
 Uil 
 
 nated froi 
 hility, loo] 
 horror, an 
 the sh'nrht( 
 over the « 
 wound as 
 dreadful e; 
 his ear, an^ 
 going to t] 
 you with 
 They will 
 wound. A 
 venire." \\ 
 
 the throat c 
 he severed 
 head, vanis 
 wards a bo( 
 who shoutc 
 naked, stifl 
 officer lyin* 
 those who 
 him and mc 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 40 
 
 natod from a state of semi-stupor to that of insensi- 
 bility, looked on in his lucid intervals with sickened 
 horror, and begged Hemlock to desist. He paid not 
 the slightest heed but went on for liours, gloating- 
 over the agonies of his victim, and adding a fresh 
 wound as the others dulled. Alert even in his 
 dreadful employment, a rustle in the bush caught 
 his ear, and he listened. "It is the Yankee picket 
 L^oinir to the blockhouse. If Hendock could take 
 you with him he would, but you cannot travel. 
 They will make you prisoner and care for your 
 wound. And now Hemlock must finish his re- 
 venge." With one swift sweep of the knife, he cut 
 the throat of his now fainting victim, with another 
 he severed his scalp, and flourishing it above his 
 head, vanished in the woods. Innnediately after- 
 wards a body of blue uniformed soldiers appeared, 
 who shouted with surprise at seeing the major, 
 naked, stiff' and scalped, and a wounded British 
 officer lying near him. Part hurried to eacli. As 
 those who went to the side of Morton stooped over 
 him and moved him, he fainted. 
 
..,■;^.„ 
 
 4 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 i'l 
 
 When Morton recovered consciousness he found 
 he was in a large apartment, the sides formed of 
 heavy logs, and surrounded by American soldiers, 
 who were talking excitedly of the discovery of tlir 
 dead body of Major Slocum. On seeing their pii 
 soner was restored to his senses, they plied him 
 with questions, in the hope of clearing up tlii 
 mystery, but he felt so languid that he made no 
 reply, and simply begged for w^ater. On the ar- 
 rival of two ox-carts, the corpse w^as lifted int< 
 one and the wounded man into the other. On 
 being carried into the air, Morton saw that tin 
 building he had been in was a small blockhouse, 
 so placed as to command the road which led to I 
 Canada. The jolting of the cart during the short I 
 drive was agony to him, and he was thankful when 
 the log shanties of the village of Four Corners | 
 came in sight and the rows of tents of the camp. 
 The cart halted at the door of a tavern, where In I 
 assumed the general must be, and soon an orderly | 
 came out and directed the driver to an outhoust 
 into which two soldiers carried him. It w^as al 
 small, low^-roofed stable, and in one of the stalls 
 ^hey laid Morton. Closing the door, he was left] 
 in darkness, and so remained until it reopened t' 
 
 J 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 51 
 
 admit what proved to l>e a surniMHi. Hl' cxanuiK'il 
 the wound, pi 'u'd it clean, put in a tVw stitches, 
 Ifound a wet bandage roun<l it, and had a pail ot* 
 water placed near. "You keep that cloth wet," he 
 said to Morton, "and drink all you |)lease, it will 
 keep (h^wn the fever, and you will he well in a 
 week. You have only a Hesh-cut; had it been on 
 the inside of the lej^' instead of the front you would 
 have been a dead man in five minutes." 
 
 "T am very weak." 
 
 "Yes; from loss of blood; I will send you some 
 whisky and milk." 
 
 When the attendant appeare<l with tlie stimu^ 
 lant, Morton sickened at the smell of the whisky, 
 hut drank the milk. The man appro\ed of the ar- 
 ranj^ement and disposed (jf the whisky. Havin<^ 
 placed clean straw below Morton, he left him, 
 harrinff the door. The soothin*'' sensation of the 
 wet Ijandage lulled hijn to sleep, and lie slundjered 
 soundly until awakened by the sound of voices at 
 the door. 
 
 "Now, mem, you'd better go liome and leave Jim 
 alone." 
 
 "You tell me he's wounded, and who can nurse 
 him better than his ohl mother:'" 
 
 "Be reasonable; the doctor said he was not to be 
 •listurbed." 
 
 "Oh, I will see liim; look what I have brought 
 him — a napkin full of the cakes he liked and this 
 bottle of syrup." 
 
52 
 
 GI.EANEll TALES. 
 
 I M 
 
 "Leave them, my good wonian, with ine ami lie 
 Avill <;et tliem." 
 
 "No, no, I must sec my handsome l)()y in his uni- 
 form; my own Jimmy tliat never left my side until 
 he listed the day before yesterday. The sight of 
 me will he better than salve to his hurt." 
 
 "1 can't let you in; you must go to the colonel 
 for an order." 
 
 "An order to see my own son! Jimmy, don't you 
 hear me; tell the man to let me in to you. (A 
 pause.) Are you sleeping, Jinnny:' It's your mo- 
 ther has come to see you. (Here she knocked). Ai\: 
 you much hurt? Just a scratch, they tell me; per- 
 haps they will let you go home with me till it 
 heals. O, Jinnny, I miss you sorely at home." 
 
 Again the woman knocked and placing her ear 
 to a crack in the door listened. 
 
 "He ain't moving! Soger man, tell me true, is 
 my Jinnny here^' 
 
 "He is, mem; you must go to the colonel. I can- 
 not let you in; I must obey orders." 
 
 "If Jimmy is here, then he must be worse than 
 they told me." 
 
 "Very likely, mem; it is always best to be pre- 
 pared for the worst." 
 
 "He may be dyin' for all you know. Do let me in. 
 
 "There is the captain passing; ask him." 
 
 "What's wanted, Bill?" 
 
 "This is Jimmy's mother and she wants to sec 
 him. Come and tell her." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 53 
 
 "That I won't," answered tlie captain, with an 
 oatli, "I want ^o liave a han<l in no scene: <!(• as 
 von like to break it to the ohl woman," and <»n tlie 
 captain passed. 
 
 "What does he mean? Jinnny ain't to 1m> pun- 
 ished, is he? He would not do wron^. It was Just 
 Tuesday week he went to the pasture for the e(»ws 
 and as he came hack, there marched a lot of sobers, 
 with Hai^s atlying and drums and fifes play in' Ihmu- 
 tiful. '(), mother,' says he, 'I would like to join 
 I'lii,' an he kept acoaxin an aworryin me until 1 
 let him come up to the Corners an take the bounty, 
 which lie brings back to me, dressed in his tine 
 clothes, the lovely boy." 
 
 "Now, good woman, you go liome an' I will send 
 vou W(n'd of him." 
 
 "'J'hat I won't; if Jinnny is here I see him. Word 
 (juiie this morning that the Injuns had sprang on 
 to the camp an' there was a soger killed, stone dead, 
 ;ui' two taken prisoners. An', says I, lucky Jinnny 
 ain't one of them, for so they told me, an' I will 
 hurry up my chores an' go and see him this evcnin', 
 an' here I am. An' at the camp they tells me he 
 is over here, and won't you let me see him?" 
 
 "Your Jimmy, mem, yes, your Jinnny is By 
 
 <!(k1, I can't speak the word. Here, take the key 
 and go in: you'll tind him i-ight in front o' the door." 
 
 The door opened and Morton saw a tidy little 
 woman, poorly dressed, step in. She looked won- 
 'It'iingly around, glancing at him in her search for 
 
rJI.K.WKIt TALKS. 
 
 litT son. Xot s('oin<^ liiin, slu' stepptMl liu;htly to- 
 wards u heap covered with an army bhmket, of 
 which she liftecl a corner, ijave a pitiful cr}^ and 
 fell s(^l)l)in^ on what lay Ix'neath. To his horror 
 iiiid pity, Moi'ton perceived it was the corpse of a 
 youth, the head with a bloody patch on the crown, 
 from haviiiL^ been scalped. "'I'his is what I'erri^^cj's 
 iiion did," hv. thouf^ht, "and this is war." Here two 
 women, warned by tlie sentiy of what was passing, 
 entere(i and di<l what tl.cv could to soothe the in- 
 eonsolable mother. 1'he succeedinir half hour, dur- 
 in^ which preparations were made for burial, was 
 accounted by Moi'ton the saddest in his life, and 
 when the detachment arrived with a cofiin to take 
 the body away, and he saw it leave, followed by 
 the heart-broken mother, he breathed a sigh of 
 relief and took a mental oath that it would go ill 
 with liini if he tlid not help the poor woman to the 
 dav of her death. 
 
 Some biscuit were brought to him, the bucket 
 refilled with spring-watei", the door closed, and 
 barred, and he was left for the night. Weakness 
 fiom loss of blood made him drowsy, and forget- 
 tino" his miserable situation, he slept soundlv until 
 next morninuc, when he woke feelinu' more like 
 Iiimself than he could have believed possible. His 
 wound felt easy and he was glad to lind he C(niM 
 luove withcnit much pain. The doctor looked in, 
 nodded approval of his condition, and said he would 
 .send him breakfast, after partaking of which Mor- 
 
H KM LOCK. 
 
 5.) 
 
 toll tnriuMl his attontiiMi to his porsoiml appoamnct', 
 and with th(^ aid of water, which the sentry i^ot 
 liiiii as wanted, improved it somewliat. 'I'he day 
 passed witliout incident, no one interruptini;- the 
 monotony of )iis iniprisonmeut. From the sound 
 of wM;^n)n- wheels and the liurryin^ of messengers 
 to and from the tavern, he surmised the army was 
 preparing to move, and that in the l)ustl<j he was 
 fori^otten. The following: nioi'nin<x his vi<»-or had 
 returned to such a degree tliat he fell to examining 
 liis prison-house an<l so far as lie could, hy peeping 
 tln';;jgh crevices in its walls of logs, his surround- 
 ings, with a view to endeavoring to escape. He 
 jiud finished breakfast, wlien an officer appeared, 
 ^ who introduce*] himself as Captain Thomas of the 
 staff and announced that the (Jeneral wished to see 
 him. By leaning rather lieavily on the American, 
 wIhj proved to be a gentlemanly'' fellow, Morton 
 nianao'cd to liobble the short distance to Smith's 
 tavern, and was led directly to the General's room. 
 On enteriniT, Morton saw" a fine-lookiuiif old (rentle- 
 man of dignified bearing, whom he recognized as 
 j the one lie saw inspecting the troops on the even- 
 ing of the surprise. He sat in a rocking-cha'r 
 and before him stood a roujih-lookino- farmer, with 
 whom he was speaking. Waving Morton to take 
 a seat, lie went on with his conversation. 
 
 "You tell mc your name ir Jacob Manning and 
 that you are acipiainted with every inch of the 
 country between here and Montreal. I will give 
 
 i 
 
.")() 
 
 (ir^EANEK TALES. 
 
 y(ju a liorse from my own stud, which no Canadian 
 can come within wind of, and you will <^o to the 
 Jii'itisli camp and hrin^,^ mc word of its strengths" 
 
 "No, sir," replijMl tlu^ backwoodsman. 
 
 "You will be richly rewarded." 
 
 "That's no inihicement." 
 
 " Fellow, you forget you are my prisoner, and that 
 I can order you to be shot." 
 
 "No, I don't, but I'<1 rather be shot than betray 
 my country." 
 
 "Your country! You are American born. What's 
 ("Canada to youi*" 
 
 "True enough, General, I was brouj^ht up on tlu' 
 V)anks of the Hudson and would have been there 
 yet but for the infernal Whigs, who robbed us first 
 of our liorses, then of our kewows, and last of all 
 of our farms, and called their thievery patriotism. 
 If we Tories hadn't had so much property, there 
 wouldn't a ben so many (ieorge Washington - Tom 
 J(?ffei\son patriots. When we were hunted from 
 our birthplace for the crime of being loyal to tin* 
 good King we were born undei', we found shelter 
 and freedom in Canada, and, by God, sir, there 
 ain't a United Empire loyalist among us that 
 wouldn't tight and die for Canada." 
 
 "You rude boor," retorted Gen. Hampton hotly, 
 "we have come to give liberty to Canada, and our 
 armies will be welcomed by its down-trodden people 
 as their deliverers. I have reports and letters to 
 that efiect from Montreal and, best of all, the per- 
 
HKMI.OCK. 
 
 57 
 
 SDiial report of one of my stut!*, now tlea<], sent on 
 }i special mission." 
 
 "Don't trust 'em, (Jenoral. We wlio came from 
 the States know what you mean ]»y liberty — free- 
 dom to swallow Whii^^ery and persecution if yoU 
 It fuse. The Old Countrymen are stiti' as liickory 
 iii^^ainst you, and the French — why, at heart, they 
 uie a;;;ainst both." 
 
 "It is false, sir. I have filled up my re;^iments 
 since I came tu this fi'ontier with French." 
 
 "It wa'nt for love of you; it was for your J^4() 
 lM)unt3\" 
 
 The General rose and throwin*^^ open the shutter, 
 closed to exclude the sunshine, revealed the army 
 ill review; masses of infantry moving with passable 
 precision, a lon«^ train of artillery, and a dashin<^ 
 corps of cavalry. Proudly turnin<;- to the farmer 
 he said, 
 
 "What can stop the sweep of sucli an army? 
 England may well halt in her guilty career at the 
 siirht of these end)attled sons of lihertv and loosen 
 lier bloody clutch upon this continent of the New 
 World." 
 
 Xeii/her the sight of the army nor the poiiipoiis 
 speech of the General appalled the stout farmer, 
 who replied, "The red-coats will make short woi*k 
 of 'em, and if you don't want ti> go to Halifax 
 you'd better not cross the lines." 
 
 General Hampton made no reply, his good-sense 
 apparently checking his pride, by suggesting tlie 
 
 I 
 
58 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 folly of arguing with a backwoodsman, who ha<l 
 changed to be taken prisoner in a foray. Suninion- 
 ing an orderly, he commanded that Manning be 
 taken back to prison and not released until the 
 army moved. 
 
 "An<l now, Lieutenant Morton, for so I under- 
 stan<l you are named, you are the latest arrival 
 from Canada; and what did they say of the Army 
 of the North when you left^" 
 
 "They were wondering when they would lia\e 
 the pleasure of seeing it," replied Morton. 
 
 "Ha! it is well to so dissemble the terror our 
 presence on the frontier has stricken into the mer- 
 cenaries of a falling monarchy. They will see the 
 cohorts of the Republic soon enough: ere another 
 sun has risen we may have crossed the Rubicon." 
 
 "The; wonder expressed at every mess-table has 
 been the cause of your tarrying here." 
 
 "So I am the topic of the conversation of your 
 military circles," said Hampton, with a pleased ex- 
 pression. "And what was their surmise as to the 
 cause of my tarrying here." 
 
 "That you were awaiting orders from General 
 Wilkinson" 
 
 The General sprung to his feet in anger and ex- 
 citement. What! Do they so insult me ? Look 
 you, 3^oung man, are you telling the truth or dare 
 come here to beard me.'' ' 
 
 "On my honor, General Han.pton, I only repeat 
 what I have heard a hundred times." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 .0 
 
 "Tlien, when you liear it ajj^ain, that I await the 
 orders of tliat impudent pill-maker who mas(juer- 
 ades at Oswego as a general, say it is a lie! (General 
 Hampton takes no orders from him; he despises 
 liiin as a man and as a soldier — a sokliei-, (juotha! 
 A political mountebank, a tippler and a poltroon. 
 Here I have been, ready to pluck up the last ves- 
 tige of British authority on this continent for two 
 months past, and been hindered by the government 
 riiti'usting the Western wing of my army to a 
 craven who refuses to recognize my authority and 
 who lets I would wait on I dan> not." 
 
 'I meant no ofience by my statement," said Mor- 
 ton, as the (jreneral paused in striding the room. 
 
 "It is well for you that you did not, for 1 brook 
 no aspersion upon my independence or my reputa- 
 tion as a veteran who has done somewhat to de- 
 scrvi' well of his country, and that is implied in 
 iilK'ging, I take my orders from Wilkinson." 
 
 Moiton reiterated his reijfret at havinof unwit- 
 tingly given otlence and would assure the (Jeneral 
 that he had entertained so high iui opinion of him 
 that he did not attribute to him the harsh treatment 
 he liad ivceived since taken prisoner. Asked of 
 what he complained, he told of his having been 
 thrust into a misemble stable and having ivceived 
 no such attention as is universally accorded to a 
 wounded otlicer in camp. 
 
 Tiie General smiled somewhat grindy as he said: 
 Lieut. Morton, your ti'eatment is no criterion of 
 
I -l 
 
 GO 
 
 GLEANER TALES, 
 
 1 
 
 our hospitality to those whom the fortunes of war 
 tlirovv into our hands. You forj^et that you were 
 made prisoner under most suspiciou. circumstances. 
 You were found lying wounded besifle the muti- 
 lated corpse of that influential citizen who, I may 
 so express it, stepped from the political into the 
 military arena, the late Major Slocum, and eveiy- 
 thing points to your having been associated with 
 those who slew him and violated his remains. 
 Apart from that grave circumstance, the mere fact 
 of your being found on the territory of the Unite<l 
 States government would justify my ordering your 
 execution as a spy." 
 
 "Sir," indignantly interrupted Morton, "J am no 
 spy. My uniform shows I am an officer of the 
 King's army and I came upon American soil en- 
 gaged in lawful warfare, declared not by Kiny' 
 (Jeorge but by your own government. I am a pri- 
 sonei*-of-war but no spy." 
 
 "It is undoubted that you consorted with In- 
 •bans, that you were present with them in the child- 
 ish attempt to surprise my army the other evenini,'', 
 and that you wei-e with one or more redskins 
 when Mnjor Slocum offered up his life on the altar 
 of his country in a manner that befitted s^ celc- 
 brated a patriot, who to his laurels as a statesman 
 liad added those of a soldier. You must under- 
 stand, for you appear to be a man of parts ami 
 education, that Indians and those who associat*^ 
 with them are not recoiinized as entitled to tlu' 
 
HiLMLOCK. 
 
 61 
 
 ins. 
 'act 
 
 ted « 
 our 
 
 )ri- 
 
 the 
 
 riohts of war. Tliey ai"e shot or luing as barbar- 
 ous murderers without trial." 
 
 ''If that is your law, General, how conies it that 
 you have Indians in your anny?" 
 
 The General looked nonplussed for a moment. 
 "Our Indians/' he answered, "are not in the same 
 cntef>"ory. They have embraced the allegiance of a 
 free government; yours are wild wretches, refugees 
 from our domain and fugitives from our justice, 
 and now the minions of a bloody despotism." 
 
 "I do not see that if it is right for your govern- 
 ment to avail themselves of the skill of Imlians as 
 scouts and guides that it can be wrong for His Ma- 
 jesty's government to do the same. Between the 
 painted savages I perceived in your camp and those 
 in the King's service, I could distinguish no differ- 
 ence." 
 
 "Keep your argument for the court martial which, 
 tlio' I do not consider you entitled, I may grant. 
 Leaving that aside, sir, and reminding you of your 
 perilous position, I would demand whether you are 
 disposed to make compensation, so far as in your 
 power, to the government of the United States by 
 giving information that would be useful in the pre- 
 sent crisis? As an o^cer, you must know much of 
 the strength and disposition of the British force 
 who stand in my onward path to Montreal." 
 
 Morton's face, pale from his recent wound and 
 confinement, flushed. "If you mean, sir, that you 
 offer me the choice of proving traitor or of a rope. 
 
02 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 you kn(>vv little ot* t^»f' lionor of a Bi'itish soldier or 
 of his ^eiiso of duty. It is in your power to liaiiij 
 me, but not to niake nie false to my country and 
 my King." 
 
 "Come, come young man; do not impute dishonor 
 to a Southerner and a wntleman who bore a com- 
 mission in the Continental army. Leave me, who 
 am so nuich older and, before you were born, saw- 
 service under the immortal Washington, to judi^f 
 (jf what is military ethics. We are alone, and as a 
 gentleman speaking to a gentleman, I demand whe- 
 ther you are going to give me information useful 
 in the movement I am about to make upon Moiit- 
 I'eal?" 
 
 "You have had my answer." 
 
 The General took up a pen, wrote a few lines 
 and then rang a bell. Captain Thomas entered. 
 "Take this and conduct the prisoner away," said 
 the General handing him a folded paper. Morton 
 bowed and left the room, fully believing that the 
 missive was an order for his executicm. Conducted 
 back to tlie stable, he threw himself on his straw- 
 heap, indignant and yet mortified at being treated 
 as a spy. He thought of his relations, of his com- 
 rades, of his impending disgraceful death, and then 
 clenched his teeth as he resolved lie would net 
 plead with his captors but die without a nmrnun-. 
 
 The marching of a body of men was heard with- 
 out. They lialted and the door was thrown open 
 The officer in command said he had come to escort 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 o:^ 
 
 liim to the coi*rt-inartial. Morton ^ave no sign of 
 surprise and limped as firmly as lie could, surround- 
 ed by the files of men, to the ttiit where the court 
 was awaiting him. The clerk read the charges, 
 which were, that he was a spy, that he had associ- 
 ated himself with Indian mai-auders in an attack 
 Oil the camp and, that he had been an accomplice 
 in the murder of Major Slocum. In reply to the 
 usual (piestion of guilty or not guilty, Moi-ton an- 
 swered that he scorned to plead to such charges, 
 that his uniform was the best reply to his being a 
 spy and if they doubted his right to wear it, he re- 
 ferred them to Major 8tovin at Camp la Fourche; 
 that he had made war in a lawful way and with 
 men regularly enrolled in the British service, and, 
 before God, he protested he had no hand in the 
 killing of Major Slocum. "That," said the presid- 
 ing officer, "is eciuivalent to y^^ar pleading not guilty. 
 The prosecutor will now have to adduce proof of 
 the charges." 
 
 The only witnesses were the soldiers who had 
 found him lying in the bush beside the corpse of 
 Major Slocum. Morton peremptorily refused to 
 answer questions. "You place us in a painfid pos- 
 ition, Lieutenant Morton, by refusing to answer, 
 for we must conclude that you can give no satis- 
 factory explanation of the circumstances un<ler 
 which you were captured. A foul, a diabolical 
 murder has been committed, and everything points 
 to you as being, at least, a party to it. Ycjur 
 
64 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 wound in itself is witness against you tliat you 
 assailed our late comrade-in-arms." 
 
 Morton rose to his feet, and holding up his hand 
 said: "Gentlemen, I stand before you expecting to 
 receive sentence of death and to be shortly in 
 presence of my Maker. At this solemn moment, I 
 repeat my declaration, that I had no part in the 
 death of Major Slocum, that I did not consent to it 
 and that if it had been in my power I would have 
 save<l him." 
 
 "I submit, Mr President," said a member of the 
 court, "that the statement we have just heard is 
 tantamount to Lieutenant Morton's declaring lu' 
 knows how and by whom Major Slocum came to 
 his death. As one who has practised law many 
 years, I assert that the statement just made is a 
 confession of judgment, unless the defendant in- 
 forms the court who actually committed the murder 
 and declares his willingness to give evidence for 
 the state. If a man admits he was witness to n 
 murder and will not tell who did it, the court mav 
 conclude he withholds the information for evil 
 purpose, and is justified in sentencing him as an 
 abettor at least. In this case, the wound of tlu 
 accused points to his being the principal. Before 
 falling. Major Slocum, in his heroic defence, deals a 
 disabling wound to this pretended British officer 
 who thereupon leaves it to his associated red-skin> 
 to finish him and wreak their deviltry on the 
 corpse." 
 
 1^1 
 
HKMIAH'K. 
 
 65 
 
 "The opinion you have lieaid," said the presid- 
 iiHr-officer, "commends itself to this board. What 
 have you to say in reply?" 
 
 "Nothing," answered Morton. 
 
 "We will give you anotlier chance. W^e cannot 
 puss over the minder of a brother officer. Only 
 strict measures have prevented many citi/.ens in 
 our ranks, who esteemed Major Slocum as one of 
 their political leaders and of popular (|ualities, from 
 taking summary vengeance upon you. We nuike 
 tliis otier to you: make a clean breast of it, tell us 
 wlio committed the murder, give us such assistance 
 as may enable us to track the perpetrator, and, on 
 his capture, we will set you free." 
 
 "And if I refuse," asked Morton, "what then " 
 
 "You will be hanged at evening parade. 
 
 "With that alternative, so revolting to a soldier, 
 I refuse your offer. What the circumstances are 
 which bind me to silence, I cannot, as a man of 
 honor, tell, but I again affirm my innocence." 
 
 "Lieutenant Morton, wdiat say you: the gallows 
 ur your informing us of a cruel murderer: which 
 do you choose?" 
 
 "I choose neither; I alike deny your right to take 
 my life or to extort what I choose not to tell." 
 
 "Withdraw the prisoner," ordered the presiding- 
 otficer, "while the court consults," and Morton was 
 led a few yards away from the tent. He could 
 hear the voice of eager debate and one speaker in 
 his warmth fairly shouted, "He must be made to 
 
GG 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 Ml 
 
 tell; we'll scjuceze it out of him," and then followed 
 a lonj^ colkxiuy. An hour had passed when he was 
 recalled. 
 
 "We have deliberated on the evidence in your 
 case, Lieutenant Morton; and the clerk will rcjul 
 the finding of the court." 
 
 Fi^jin a sheet of foolscap the clerk read a lone,' 
 jsiinot , finding the prisoner guilty on each count. 
 
 otanl -^g up and adjusting his sword, the presid- 
 ing officer said, "It only remains to pronounce sen- 
 tence: it is, that you be hanged between the hour> 
 of five and six o'clock this day." 
 
 Morton bowed and asked if the sentence had 
 been confirmed by the commanding-officer. "It 
 has been submitted and approved," was tlie reply. 
 
 "In the brief space of time that remains to me, 
 said Morton in a firm voice, "may I crave the treat- 
 ment that befits my rank in so far that I may Im- 
 furnished with facilities for writing a few letters? 
 
 "You may remain here and when done writini,^ 
 the guard will conduct you back whence you canio. 
 there to remain until execution." With these words 
 he rose, and the others followed, leaving Morton 
 alone with the clerk and the captain of his guar<l 
 He wrote three letters, — to Major Stovin, to his 
 colonel, and the longest to his relatives across the 
 Atlantic, — being careful in all to say nothing about 
 Hemlock, for he suspected the Americans would 
 read them before sending. When done, he was 
 taken back to the stable, and left in darkness. He 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 07 
 
 had abandoncMl all hope: his voyage acrc»>s life's 
 ocean was nearly ended, and alrea<ly he t! ou;;ht 
 the mountain-tops of the unknown country he was 
 soon to set foot upon loomed dindy cm his ii)wanl 
 
 ♦ ye. The hour which comes to all, wlien the tliiii^s 
 of this life shrink into nothingness, was upoii hlni, 
 and tlie truths of revelation became to him the 
 only actualities. The conununings of that time 
 jire sacred from record: enough to say, they left a 
 sobering and elevatinjj influence on is dwiracter. 
 He was perfectly composed when Ue xtiwd the 
 Miiard return, and quietly took ) 's place in the 
 centre of the hollow square. Or; le Held u-^ed 
 as a parade ground he saw the tr >p^' drawn up in 
 double line. At one end were the preparaticais for 
 his execution, a noose dangling from the liub of a 
 tree and a rouorh box beneath to serve as his ccjfhn. 
 There was not a whisper or a movement as he 
 passed slowly up between the lines of troops. It 
 seemed to him there was unnecessary ilelay in 
 completing the arrangements; and that tlic pre- 
 liriiinaries were drawn out to a degree tl at was 
 a^^onizing to him. At last, however, his an .s were 
 pinioned and the noose adjusted. The officer who 
 had presided at his trial approached "By auth- 
 
 • rityof the General," he whispered, "I repeat the 
 "tt'er made you: assist us to secure the murdeier of 
 Major Slocum and you get your life and lileity. ' 
 
 Morton simply answered, "Good friend, tV r Jef- I'ii 
 sake, leave me alone." 
 
68 
 
 CiLEANEK TALKS. 
 
 The word was not <^ivcn to liaul tin' tackle aii.l 
 Murt )]i stood faciiiii the ass«'iid>k'd ranks for what 
 stH'im'<l to him to ho an ajic, though it was onl\- a 
 lew minutes. The bitterness of (U'ath was passcil 
 and tlie eahnness of resij^nation tilled his soul. 
 A^aiji the officer spoke, "What say yon, Lieutenant 
 Moi'ton:' ' Morton merely shook his head. Vn>- 
 
 on 
 
 tly a 1 
 
 loi'seman was seen 
 
 to 1 
 
 eave 
 
 the ( 
 
 lenei'al s 
 
 fjuart<'rs and an oi'deily rode up. "Hy connnaud 
 of the ( Jenerai, the execution is postponed." Mor- 
 ton's tirst feeling was that of disappointment. 
 
 As li»' was liurried back to the staV)le, the order 
 disniissing tin; troops was oiven. As they broke 
 up, a soldier remarked to his comrade, "Theyl 
 soonei" have him s(pieal than stretch his neck." 
 
 I|: 
 
 I : 
 
(HAITKIl V. 
 
 On' thv aftcrnooTi ot* tlie socond <1jiv ntt( r the 
 I'vciits of last chaj)trr, Allan F()rsyth it ttiiiitMl 
 from his daily visit to (^lmp la Kourcht' ('xcited 
 ;ui(l in<lignant. "What think ye, ' \\v said t( his 
 wit'o and Maooi*', "Lieutenant Morton is in the 
 
 liaiid 
 
 liiiii. 
 
 s o 
 
 tl 
 
 »(' 
 
 ik 
 
 inKces aru 
 
 1 tl 
 
 K'V re <ran\\ 
 
 t. 1 
 
 an£r 
 
 Ma<^^jjjie palrd jind involuntarily st^'pp^'d iictier 
 her father. 
 
 "The deils that tlu'y be; ho<^ did they «4« t hand 
 ()" him;'' asked Mrs Forsyth. 
 
 "The story is snnc tell't," replied hi'r Ini-^hand. 
 'He was sent, as ye ken, wi' a despatch t( the 
 lines; while there he took \n\yi in a bit skirmish, 
 ;iir the day after was foun<l by the Yankees lyin' 
 wounded in the woods beside the iKxly o' a Vraikee 
 officer." 
 
 "Weel, they eavnia hang him for that, (ilu the 
 Yankees will feeht, they niaun expect to be kilt." 
 
 'Ah, 
 
 ye 
 
 d 
 
 anina un( 
 
 lerstan. Tl 
 
 tl 
 
 ley say tneir (<mcer 
 
 mi 
 
 wasna kilt in regular coorse o' war. The botl\ was 
 
 o 
 
 scalped and carvt in a gruesome fashion, showini;^ 
 }»laiidy the hand o' the Indian, an' they hold Mr 
 Morton accountable." 
 "But he didna scalp tlui Yankee?" 
 
''O 
 
 i\) (il.KANKIl TAI.KS. 
 
 •'Ti' !♦', «^U(lewitV*, l»tit ho winiui toll them whadid. 
 His s'.vonl they found beside the corpse, showiiiLj 
 thev had lM*en in mortal conjbat." 
 
 "Is S»' sorely wounded;'" asked Magfjie. 
 
 "J Cfiima say for that. It's no likely, for they 
 \\\\A hi a oot ae evening to hang him, and took <i 
 better ihoeli^. when he was below the gallows." 
 
 "i-|o,v did you hear all this?" 
 
 "A iiessenger came in today with letters froiu 
 him, sent across the linos under a flag o' truce. Jt 
 wa>< said in camp Major Stovin was stampin' angry 
 finl .vas ijfoinf; to write back that ijin a hair o* tin- 
 Lieiitetiant's head is harmed he will hang every 
 Yankee officer that fa's into his bans. I gaed owci 
 to see the messenger and he tell't me the word 
 wont that Morton defied General Hampton and his 
 ofHcers to do their worst, that, to save his life, he 
 wadiia l)rin2: disjjfraco on his commission." 
 
 'Who is the messenger: has he ffone back?" 
 
 "]-b''s a young lad, a son o' ane o' the settlers in 
 Hinehinbrook. He goes back tomorrov*' with letters 
 from Major Stovin." 
 
 •'Will he see Morton?" 
 
 "X), no: to be sure thae folk on the lines gHiin 
 back an' forrit, but they're no likely to let him 
 near. His letters will be taken at the outposts." 
 
 "Do you think Major Stovin's letter will saw 
 
 "That it won't. The lad said the Yankees weiv 
 fair v.:id ower the death o' their officer an' will 
 
HKMI.OCK. 
 
 71 
 
 luiiv^ puir Morton to a (lead certainty gin hedoesna 
 rt'veal to them wlia did the deed." 
 
 'An' for what will he no tell?" a -iked Mrs For- 
 syth. 
 
 "That he kens best. Maybe gratitu(ie to an In- 
 dian caM Hendock .seals his lips, for oor men bt*- 
 lit've he was with him at the time." 
 
 "What does Hemlock say?" interjected Maggie. 
 
 " He's no in camp. He came back three days 
 ago and left for Oka, where he bides." 
 
 Cntil bedtime Morton was the subject of con- 
 versation, and the more they talked of him the 
 kt'iner their interest grew in his serious situation. 
 That one whom they had learned to like and re- 
 spect so much should die an ignominious death 
 sliocked them, and even Mrs Forsyth wjus con- 
 strained to say, that much as she disliked Yankees, 
 "(Jin I were near eneuch to walk to him, I wad 
 gang on my knees to Hampton to beg his life." 
 
 Next morning, while engaged in the stable, Mr 
 Forsyth was surprised by the appearance of his 
 daughter. 
 
 "Hey, my woman, what's garrd ycu to come oot 
 vu the grey o' the mornin'? Time eneuch an hour 
 t'rae this." 
 
 "Father, I could not sleep and I wanted to speak 
 to you. If Hemlock was brought back, would Vr 
 not save Morton?" 
 
 'Ah, he winna come back. Doubtless he kens 
 the Yankees wad rax his neck for him. His leevin 
 
(U.KANER TALES. 
 
 for liame sliows he is afeard o' what he has dune." 
 " Yet there's no other liope oi' saving Morton. " 
 "Too true; gin the actual slayer o' the officer is 
 not surrendered witliin a few days poor Morton 
 will suffer." 
 
 'Well, then, father, you cannot go to seek fur 
 Hendock, and my hrothers would not be allowe<l 
 to leave their duty in camp, so I will go. I can W 
 in Oka before dark and will see Hendock." 
 
 "Dinna think o' such a thing," entreated tlic 
 father, "the road is lang an' the Indian wad just 
 laugli at you gin you found him, which is dootful. ' 
 A favorite child has little difficulty in persuad- 
 ing a parent, and before many minutes Mr Forsyth 
 was won over, declaring "it wad be a shame gin 
 we did naething to try an' save the puir lad." It 
 was arranged she sh uld go at once, the father un- 
 dertakinii: to break the news to his wife. All hoi 
 other preparations having been made befoi'ehand 
 the slipping of a plaid over her head and shoulders 
 rendered her fit for the journey, and with a cheery 
 goodbye to her father she stepped quickly away. 
 She went to the camp at La Fourche, where she 
 surprised her brothers and got them to search out 
 the messenger who hau brought the startling tid- 
 ings. Slie had a talk with him, learning all he 
 knew of Morton, 'liien she went to see the In- 
 dians in camp, who readily enough told what little 
 they knew^ of Hemlock, 'i'hey believed he was at 
 (>ka and did not expect him back, as he said lif 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 7.3 
 
 would Join the force that was being assenihlerl 
 ;\l)Ove Cornwall to meet Wilkinson. Thus int'')rni- 
 cd she took the road, a mere bush track, that led 
 to iVnntield Mills, now known as the town of 
 Heauharnois, which she reached in the course of 
 two hours or so and walked straight to the house 
 of the only person in it who she thought could 
 help her. It was a log-shanty built on the angle 
 where the St Louis rushes brawling past an<l 
 the calm waters of the l)av, and was of unusual 
 iLiigtli, the front end being devoted to the pur- 
 poses of an office. The door stood open and 
 Maggie walked into a little den, in one corner of 
 wliich stood a desk w^ith pigeon-holes stuffed with 
 papers, and beside it were a few shelves tilled with 
 hottk's and odds-and-inids, the whole dusty, dark, 
 and smellinjx of tobacco. At the desk sat a little 
 man, dressed in blue with larjxe 2'ilt buttons. 
 
 "Oh, ho, is this you, Maggie Forsyth:' Often 
 have I gone to see you, but this is the first time you 
 have dropped in to see me." 
 
 "See you, you withered auld stick! I just dropped 
 ill to speer a few ([uestims at you." 
 
 "Auld stick, Mag; I'm no sae auld that I canna 
 lot' ye. 
 
 "Maybe, but I dinna loe vou." 
 
 "Look here, lassie; see this bit aii'n kistie: its fu 
 " siller dollars; eneuch to varnish an auld stick an 
 kt'cp a silken gown on yer back every day o' the 
 vt-ar." 
 
74 
 
 CiLEANER TALES. 
 
 "An eneuch in thae dirty bottles to pooshen ww 
 when ye wad ?" 
 
 " Ha, ha, my lass; see what it is to hae lear. I 
 didna g;ang four lang sessions to new college, Aber- 
 deen, for naething. I can heal as well as pooshen. 
 It's no every lassie has a chance to get a man o' my 
 means and learnin." 
 
 "Aye, an its no every lassie that wad want them 
 alang wi* an auld wizened body." 
 
 " Hech, Mag, ye're wit is ower sharp. When h 
 man's going down liill, ilka body gies him a jundit'. 
 If ye winna, anither will, but we'll let that Hit 
 stick i' the wa' for awhile. Where is your faitherf" 
 
 "At hame: I just walked ower." 
 
 "Walked ower yer lane, an a' thae sogers an' In- 
 dians roun ! * 
 
 "Jf yer ceevil yell meet wi' ceevilty, Mr Mihv: 
 an' I'm gaun farther this day, an' just looked in for 
 yer advice." 
 
 "Oh ye maun hae a drap after your walk," an^l 
 here he pulled out a big watch from his fob. "Gra- 
 cious! it is 20 minutes ayont my time for a dram.' 
 
 Stooping beneath the table that answered for a 
 counter, he filled a grimy tin measure, which h^ 
 tendered to Maggie, who shook her head. "Na, na 
 I dinna touch it. " 
 
 Finding persistence useless, he raised the vessel 
 to his mouth and with a "Here's tae ye," einptiti 
 it. "Hech, that does me guid, — -but no for lan^ 
 Noo, lass, what can I do to serve you?" 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 i o 
 
 Maggfie unreservedly told hiiu all. 'An' what's 
 this young Morton to you?" 
 
 'Xaething niair than ony neebur lad." 
 
 "Tell that to my grannie," said the old buck, "I 
 can see through a whin stane as far as onybody an' 
 1100 unnerstan why ye turn yer back on a graduate 
 u' new college, Aberdeen, wi' a kist o' siller, and a' 
 for a penniless leftenant." 
 
 "Think what thochts ye may, Mr Milne, but 
 tliey're far astray. The lad is naething to nie nor 
 im; to hiui. I am eroinfj^ to Oka because nae man- 
 body is allowed to leave the camp, and I couldna 
 stay at hauie gin it was in my power to save a 
 tV'l low-creature's life." 
 
 'An what can I do to help you to save him?" 
 
 "Help me to reach Oka and find Hendock." 
 
 " Were it no for thae stoury war-times I wad get 
 >ut my boat and gang m3'^ser, and there's naebody 
 to >end wi" you. My lass, gif ye'll no turn hamt* 
 again, ye'll have to walk the road your lane." 
 
 "I hae set my face to the task an' I'll no gang 
 luune." 
 
 ' Weel, then, yell hao a snack wi' me an' I'll 
 ilirect ye as well as njay b(\" 
 
 A few rods up the St Louis, in the centre of tlu- 
 stream, where it trickled over a series of rock\' 
 >lielves, stood a small mill, and on the adjoining 
 lank the house of the miller, and thither they went 
 iikI had something to eat. The miller's wife, a 
 -jood-looking woman, ccnild not speak English, but 
 
70 
 
 Or.EAXEll TALES. 
 
 inadt^ (ip lier lack in lively gt'sticulations, wlii](> 
 Ma<^gie helped the coinnion uudei'standinL^ with 
 i)dd woi'ds and phrases in French. Justice don*- 
 to the t'(X)<l hurrie<]ly spread before them, Mao-^ic 
 walked Vwuk with Milne until they stoo<l in front 
 of the house. 
 
 "There," he said, pointing- to planks restinjj^ on 
 hif^ stones, "you cross the 8t Louis and keep tin- 
 ti'ack until you come to the first liouse after you 
 pass the rapids. It is not far, but the I'oad is 
 shockingly bad. I'here you will ask them to ferrv 
 vou to the otlier side, when you've a \oivr walk to 
 the Ottawa before you. I'd ad\"Lse you to turn 
 yet." Ma<i^gie shook lier Ir-ad decisively. "Wetl 
 weel, so be it; lie that will to Cupar maun t<i 
 •Jupar. Here tak this," and lie put in her hand 
 two silver dollars. 
 
 MaofJ/i*' winced. "I'll hae nae need o' sillei-." 
 
 or? 
 
 "Ye dinrwi fo i; ye may get into trouble that 
 money will aelp you out o'. Dinna fear to takt 
 it: I've made (and here his voice .sank to a whiv 
 per) I've made a hunner o' thae bricht lads by ;!• 
 j-uiil I'un o' brandy keg's across the Hinchinltrock 
 line. Its Yankee siller." 
 
 Maggie smiled and, as if the (piestionable nioilt 
 of their ac((uisition justified their acceptance, clasp 
 «'d them, and nodding to the little man, tripped 1ih 
 way to the other side of the river The road, a- 
 })redicted, proved execrable. Walled in and sha^! 
 t)wed by ti'ees, neither bre(.'ze nor sunlight peni-: 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 i I 
 
 inxtvd to dry it, and it was a succession of lK)lt's 
 Hllt'd with liquid iiuid. So bad was it, tlwit au 
 attempt to haul a small caiuion along it ha<l to he 
 abandoned despite the efforts of horses, oxen, and 
 a party of blue Jackets. Tripping from side to 
 side, and occasionally passing an unusually <le(>p 
 liole by turning into the bush, Maggie made all 
 haste. Once only she halted.* A party of artillery- 
 iiK'ii and sailors were raising a breastwork at the 
 head of the Cascade rapids, whei -on to mc unt a 
 ^lui that would sweep the rivei-, and she watcluMl 
 them f(H' a while. That was the onlv si^^n of life 
 alonu' the road until the white-washed shantv of 
 the ferryman came in sight, in front of which a 
 troop of half-naked children were tundthng in 
 hoisterous play, and who set up a shrill eiy of 
 wonder when they saw lier. Their mother, so 
 sliort and stout as to be shapeless, came to the 
 door in response to their cries and gazed wondr 
 ingly at the stranger. She volubly returned Mag- 
 'de's salutation and led her into tl house, the 
 interior of which was as bare as French Canadian 
 houses usually are, but clean and ti ly. Her hus- 
 hand was away, helping to conv< \' stores to the 
 fort at the Coteau, and there was nv)t, to her know- 
 led<5^«', a man within three miles capable of ferrying 
 hor across. Could not madam paddle her over^ 
 The woman's hands went up in pantoniimic amaze- 
 ment. Would she tempt the good Uoi' by venturing 
 in a canoe alone with a woman? Did she not know 
 
 
78 
 
 (jJLEANER TALES. 
 
 ' II 
 
 11; 
 
 tlie current was swift, an<l led to tlie rapids wliosr 
 loarin^; she lieard! No, she must stay overnight, 
 and her good njan woukl take her over in the 
 morning. Maggie could only submit and seated 
 herself behind the house, to gaze towards the oth(^r 
 bank which she was so anxious to set foot upon, 
 From where she sat, the bank abruptly sank to u 
 depth of perhaps thirty feet, where a little bay 
 <rave shelter to a canoe and a laroe boat titte<l to 
 convey a heavy load. Beyon<l th«! locks that 
 headed the tiny inlet, which thus served as a cove 
 for the ferryman's boats, the river swept irresist- 
 ibly, and where in its channel between the shore 
 and the islands that shut out the view of the north 
 bank, anv obstacle was met, the water rose in 
 billows with foaminic heads. Mao-me knew that 
 she was looking upon the south channel of thf 
 great river, and that the main stream lay on tlie 
 other side of the tree-cov*red islands, wdiich varie<i 
 in size from half a mile long to rocks barely lar*,^* 
 enough to afibrd foothold to the tree or two whosi 
 branches overhung the foaming current. The ni( - 
 tion of the rushing w^ater contrasted so finely with 
 the still-life and silence of the forest that fraiiu'l 
 it, and the many shaped and many colored islan 
 that diversilied its surface, that the scene at on( 
 soothcii the anxious mind of the pca.sant maid iiu> 
 inspired her with fresh energy. 
 
 "Time is passing like that mighty stream," sh 
 thougiit, "and before another sunset help for Moi 
 
 ( s 
 
 •(■ 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 79 
 
 ton may be tuo late," and then she asked lierself 
 why she, so use<l to the management of a canoe, 
 sliould not paddle lierself across!* She sought out 
 madam and told her what she proposed, was met 
 with energetic protestation, and then was allovve<l 
 to have her own way. Fortified with directions 
 which she only partially understood, Maggie took 
 her place in the canoe, and waving good-bye to 
 inadam and her troop of children, who stood on 
 the landing, pushed out. Uiunindful of how the 
 light skiff drifted downwards, she kept its head 
 pointed to the island that lay opposite to her an<l 
 paddled for dear life. Once she received a shower 
 nf spray in passing too near to where the cur- 
 rent chafed and fumed over a sunken rock, but 
 >he retained her presence of mind, and was glad to 
 ^ee the island draw nearer with each stroke. Just 
 us the gravelly strand seemed within reach, the 
 ilrift broUifht her nijjh to the end of the island, 
 and she paddled into the channel that lay between 
 it and the islets adjoining, which nestled so cU)st-ly 
 that the tops of the trees upon them interlaced, 
 furnishing a leafy arcade to the narrow channels 
 that divided them. As Maggie paused for breath 
 after her severe exertion, a sense of the <juiet 
 heauty and security of the retreat came over her, 
 and drawing the canoe on to the pebbly beach, she 
 laved her feet while, idly picking from the bush<^s 
 and vines within reach, she formed a boucjuet of 
 colored leaves. She heard the roar of the rapids 
 
80 
 
 OI.EANEH TAIJ:s. 
 
 })eiH'ath find she knew that a few vards farther (ui 
 lay tlie <leep-t1owin<^ ncjrth channel, hut her natuiv 
 was not one to horrow trouble and she enjoyed tlit- 
 present to the full in her cool retreat. When slit- 
 aoain took her place in the canoe, a f«'w dips of tli-' 
 I)addle took it outside the islands, and slie saw tln' 
 main channel of the river -smooth except fnr 
 great i^reasy circles of slowly whii-ling water, as if 
 the mighty river, after its late experience of bein- 
 shredded in the rapids above, had a ni^^htmare ^\'i 
 forebodin^M)f a Repetition of the same agony in tli* 
 rapids to which it was liastening. With steady 
 strok(^ Maggie urged the canoo forwanl and did 
 not allow the consciousness that she was driftin*^ 
 toward the rapids discompose her. As the cane. 
 iieared the bank, the sweep of the cm'i'ent in- 
 creased, and her arms began to ache with tlit 
 violent and long-continued exertion. To her joy, 
 she saw a man stamiinf; at the landiny; and tli* 
 strokes of lier paddle (juickene<i. The canoe was 
 swept past the landing, when the man, picking up 
 a coil of rope, ran downwards to a point, ami 
 watching his chance, threw it across the canor. 
 Maggie caught an end of the rope, and in a miniit' 
 was hauled ashore. The man, a French Canadian 
 employed to assist the bateaux in passing between 
 lakes St Francis and St Louis, expressed his a> 
 tonishment at a woman daring so perilous a feat 
 and his wonder increased when she told him of Iki 
 intention of j^oinc: to Oka. ''Alone! madamoiselK' 
 
 lie exclaili 
 
 forest will 
 smiled in 
 >f'"ght tli( 
 Fann'liar a 
 
 follow iuir \ 
 had heir u II 
 tlie woodp 
 cheered he 
 ijuick step, 
 [»ervade<l tl 
 touch the 
 \V(»uld come 
 
 dl 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 81 
 
 he exclaimetl, "why you will lose your way in the 
 forest which is full of bears and Indians." She 
 siuile<l in answer, and receiving his directions, 
 sfniiiht the blazed track which led to the Ottawa. 
 Frtiailiar with the bush, she had no <lifticultv in 
 followinjr the marks, for the litter of fallinu: leaves 
 had begun to shrou<l the path. The tapping- ol* 
 the woodpecker and the chirrup of the scjuirrel 
 cheered her, and she pressed on with a light and 
 i|iiick step. Hours passed initil the gloom that 
 pervaded the forest told her the sun had ceased to 
 touch the tree-tops and she wished the Ottawa 
 would come in sight. While giving way to a feel- 
 ing of dread that she might liave to halt and, 
 passing the night in the woods, await dayliglit to 
 show her the way, the faint tinkle of a bell readied 
 her. With expectant smile she paused, and poising 
 herself drank in the grateful sound. "It is the bell 
 of the mission," she said, and cheerfully resumed her 
 journey. All at once, the lake burst upon her view 
 —a great sweep of glassy water, reflecting the hues 
 of the evening sky, and sleeping at the foot of a 
 long, low lull, covered to its double-topped sum- 
 mit with sombre - foliaged trees. At the foot of 
 the slope of the western end of tlie hill, she distin- 
 ,;^iiislied the mission-buildings and, running above 
 an<J below them, an irregular string of huts, wliere 
 she knew the Indians nmst live, and behind those 
 <»ii the river's edge rose a singular clitt" of yellow 
 sand. The path led her to v/here the lake narrowed 
 
82 
 
 (JLKANEK TAr.KS. 
 
 :i 
 
 into a river and slio porcoived a lan<lin^ - plfU'c 
 Standinj^^ at tlie f'artlicst point, she raised lier liuii'l 
 to her mouth and sent a shout across the wat( rs 
 lon;^, clear, and stronj^, as she had often done to her 
 fatlicr and brothers, while working; in the bush, to 
 tell of waiting-meals. In the dusk, she perceived 
 a movement on the opposite bank and the launch <>f 
 a canoe, which paddled rapidly across. It C(jntaiiK d 
 two Indians, whose small eyes and heavy featurt> 
 gave no indication of surprise on seeing who want- 
 ed to be ferried. Stepping lightly in, the canoi 
 swiftly skinuned the dark waters, wdiich now faihd 
 to catch a gleam from the fading glories of tlif 
 evening sky. The silence was overwhelming, arnl 
 as she viewed the wide lake, overshadowed by tin 
 melancholy mountain, Maggie experienced a feel- 
 ing of awe. At that very hour she knew her fatlier 
 would be conducting worship, and as the scene of 
 her loved home passed before her, she felt a fresh 
 impulse of security, and she murmured to herself, 
 "My father is praying for me and I shall trust in 
 the Lord." 
 
 On getting out of the canoe she was perplexed 
 what step to take next. To her enquiries, made in 
 English and imperfect French, the Indians shook 
 their heads, and merely pointed her to the mission- 
 buildings. Approaching the nearest of these, from 
 whose open door streamed the glowing light of a 
 log-fire, she paused at the threshold on seeing a 
 w^oman kneeling, and who, on hearing her, coolly 
 
HK.MI.Of K. 
 
 S.J 
 
 turned, surveyed licr with an iiHjuisitlvr nud drlil)- 
 cnite starc^and tlicn caludy n'suiniMl lior drvfjtions. 
 When tli<' last bead was told, tlw woman roso and 
 l»ado her welcoMic. Maixtri<- tcild Iwr of her errand. 
 The wonjjin ;^rew curious as to wliat she; e^tidd 
 want with an Indian, \'es, she kn«'W Kcndoek, hut 
 liad not soon Jiiiu; h(; is a pa;^oin and ncrvrr conies 
 iH-ar the' pn.'shytery. The father hud ^one into the 
 l^'urden t<; repeat his oHice and luid not returned; 
 she would ask Iiini when he came* in. Madenioiselh' 
 could liavo liad no sup[)er; nu^n Dieu, peo[)le di(l 
 not pick up ready-cooked suppers in the woods, 
 Itut she would hasten and '^i\'(t her of her hest. It 
 was a treat to s(?e a wldte woman, even if she was 
 !iii Aui^lais and, she feare<l, a here'tic. The emlx-rs 
 on the hearth were urj^ed into a hlaze, and hefore 
 lon;:^ a platter of pottai^e, made from Indian corn 
 beaten into a paste, was heated, sprinklecl over 
 with inaple-su;^ar and set down witli a l)Owl of 
 curdled-cream on the taitle. Ma^^'^j^ie had tinislH'd 
 her repast when the prie-st entered. He was a 
 liimpisli man with protrudin^^ underlip,w}iich hunt^ 
 ilownwards, small eyes, and a half-awakened look. 
 'Ah, good-day," he snid with a vacant stare. Maggie 
 rose and curtsied, while the housekeeper volubly 
 repeated all she had learned of he-r and \u;r erranrl. 
 'Hemlock!" he exclaimed, "we must take care. He 
 is a bad Indian and this young woman cannot want 
 liiin for any good." 
 "True; 1 never thought (^f that." 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 
 
 (716) 872-4S03 
 
1^ 
 
 
M4 
 
 (iLEANKK TALKS. 
 
 "All, we must keep our fyes alwMys open. Wluit 
 can a <^nil like this want with that bohl man.''" 
 
 "An«l to run after him through the woods, the 
 infatiiitel We must save her." 
 
 "1 will ha\e her sent to the sisters, who will 
 save her luxly and soul from destruction. Shf 
 would make a U.'autiful nun." And the priot 
 ruhhcfl his chulthy hands together. 
 
 " May it [)lease your reverence," interposed Ma^- 
 i;ie, who had cau'»ht the drift of their talk. "I seek 
 yourai<l to tind Hendock. If you will not help iiif 
 I shall leave your house." 
 
 The priest gasped for a minute with astonish- 
 ment. "I thought you were English; you undti- 
 stand French:'" 
 
 " Enough to take care of mj'self, and I wisli 
 ministers of your robe were taught in college t ' 
 have l)etter thoughts of us potn* women." 
 
 'It is for your good we are instructed; so tluit 
 we can guar<l you l>y our advice." 
 
 " For our good you are taught to think the woi>t 
 of us ! 1 look for Hendock that he may go aiil 
 ,<xive evidence that will save a man condemned tn 
 die. For the sake of innocency I ask your help. 
 
 The priest shrugged his shoulders, stared at lui 
 gathered up his robe, grasped his nnssal with oii' 
 hand and a candle with the other, and saying, I 
 leave you with Martine, ' passed up the open stfiii- 
 way to his bedroom. 
 
 "Ah, the holy fatherl" ejaculated the housckeepti 
 
iili 
 
 »1 EM LOCK. 
 
 Sf) 
 
 (M 
 
 •when we are sunk in stupid sleep, lie is on liis 
 knees prayinjj^ for us all, an<l the demons dar«- n<>t 
 coine near. Will you not come into the true ehuieh :* 
 Sister A<,ratha wouM teach you. She has had vis- 
 jdiis in her raptures. Mon Dieu, her knet-s have 
 (urns from kneeling* on the stone steps of the nltar. 
 Vou will not. Ah, well, I will ask their praviis 
 lur you and the scales njay drop from your ey« s." 
 
 "])() tell me, how I can find Hi-ndock:'" ])lea<lt'd 
 MaLTirie, and the current of her tlKJUiihts thus 
 flianired, Martine insisted on learnini"- whv and 
 li<»w liis evidence was needed, and Ma<j;;;ie rept-at- 
 
 l as nmch of the story as was necessary. i'lie 
 housekeeper j^n'ew interested and said decisi\rly, 
 the voun<:f hrave nuist not die." Cyoveriui:* her head 
 with a l)lanket-like shawl, she told Mat-jjir to f«>l- 
 low, and stepped out. It was a calm, clear ni^ht, 
 the <;lassy expan.se of the lake reflecting- the stars, 
 llun-yinjx onwanls, they passed a innnher of huts, 
 until reachin<( one, they entere<l its open door. 
 Tlie interior was dark save for the faint uiow that 
 l)roceeded from the dvini»- embers on the hejirth. 
 Mao7(ie .saw the forms of several asleep on the floor 
 and seated in silence were three men. "This wo- 
 iiiiUi has come to iind Hendock; can you guide h«'r 
 to him:'" 
 
 "What seeks she with him?" 
 
 "She has come from the Chateau<j^ay to tell him 
 his word is wanted to save his best frien<l from 
 .leath." 
 
 ,?<' 
 
 ^ 
 
m 
 
 (JLEANEK TALKS. 
 
 'I'lio conversation wont on in the gutturals of tin- 
 Inxjuois for some time, when the housekeeper sai<l 
 to Maggie, "It is all right; they know where Hem- 
 lock is, hut it would not be safe to go to him now. 
 ''i'hey will lead you to him at daybreak. Come, we 
 will go back and you will stay with me until morn- 
 
 ing. 
 
('HAPTER VI. 
 
 The rising of tlie housekeeper, whose bed she 
 shared, woke Maf]jgie, and a f^lance throuj^h the 
 small window showed a faint whitening in the sky 
 that betokened the coming of day. Knowing there 
 was no time to spare, she dressed herself quickly, 
 and, joining the housekeeper in the kitchen, asked 
 if the messenger had come. She answered by 
 pointing to the open door, and Maggie saw, seated 
 on the lowest step, in silent waiting, tlio figure of 
 an Indian. She was for going with him at once, 
 when the housekeeper held lier and, fearful of dis- 
 turbing her master, whispered to eat of the foofl 
 she had placed on the table. Having marie a hur- 
 ried repast, Maggie drew her shawl over her head 
 and turned to bid her hostess good-bye. The good 
 soul forced into her pocket the bread that remain- 
 ed on the table, and kissed Iier on both cheeks. 
 When Maggie came to the door, the Indian rose 
 and, without looking at her, proceeded to lead the 
 way through the village and then past it, by a path 
 that wound to the top of the sand-hill that hems it 
 in on the north. Motioning her to stand still, the 
 Indian crept forward as if to spy out the object of 
 
88 
 
 (JI.EANER TALES. 
 
 tlu'ir scarcli. (Jlanciiif^ around lier, Majj^g'ie saw 
 through tlic spruces tliu Ottawa outstrt'tcluMl at 
 lier tVt't, rcfiectino- the first rosy ^Heam of the ap- 
 ])r()acliing sun. A twitch at her shawl startlru 
 her. It was her jjjuide who had returne<l. Follow- 
 injj^ him, as lie slowly threaded his way tlirou;;li 
 the j^rove of halsanis and spruces, they soon canif 
 to a halt, and the Indian pointed to a black ohject 
 outstretched upon the <^round a few yards from 
 them. F(,'ar overcame Maii'irie, and she turned to 
 i^rasp the arm of her <^niide — he was gone. Her 
 commonsense came to her aid. If this was Hem- 
 lock, she had nothing to feai*, and mastering !»» r 
 airitation she strove to discover whether the timnt'. 
 which the dawn only rendered perceptible amid tlx 
 gloom of the evergreens, was really the object of 
 lier (juest. Silently she peered, afraid to move u 
 hairsbreadth, for what seemed to her to be an age, 
 and she came to see clearly the outline of a man, 
 naked save for a girdle, fantastically fashioned out 
 of furs of varied colors, stretched iunnoveable on 
 the sod, face downward. Suddenly a groan of an- 
 guish escaped from the lips of the prostrate man 
 and the body swayed as if in convulsions. Ht.r 
 sympathies overcame her fears, and advancing 
 Maggie cried, "Hendock, are you ill? Can I help 
 you^ 
 
 With a terrific bound the figure leapt to its feet. 
 the right arm swinging a tomahawk, and, despite 
 an effort at control, Maggie shrieked. The liglit 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 89 
 
 wjis now stron^^ cnouj^h to sliow the lincaiiictits of 
 iht* Indian, whose face and hody were snjeare<l witli 
 .jToase and soot and whose countenance wore the 
 rxpression of one I'oiised from deej) <'niotion in 
 siidden rai^e. 
 
 "H< mlock, do not look at nie so: I am Man^i** 
 Forsyth, come from the Chateauji^ay to seek y<tu. ' 
 
 Instantly the face of tlie Indian softene<l. "Wliy 
 >huuld the fawn leave the (proves of the Chateau- 
 •^ay to seek so far the lair of the lynx?" 
 
 "Your friend Morton is doomed to die h\' the 
 American soldiers and you alone can save him. ' 
 
 "What! ])id he not escape? Tell me all." 
 
 Maggie told him what she knew, he listening 
 with impassive countenance. When she liad don«', 
 he paused, as if letlecting, an<l then said curtly, "I 
 will go with you." It was now fair daylight, and 
 Maggie saw, to her <lismay, that the mound upon 
 which she had found Hemlock outstretched was a 
 Lirave, and that, at the liead of it was a stake up<>n 
 which liung several scalps, the topmost evidently 
 cut from a recent victim. (j[lancin<i' at the radiant 
 wistward sky, the Indian started, and ignoring the 
 presence of his visitor, fell on his knees on tlie 
 ;Tave, and turning his face so as to see the sun 
 when it should shoot its first beam <»ver the hroad 
 liike, which was rcliecting the glow of the rosy 
 clouds that overhung its further point, he com- 
 muned with the dead. " I leave thee, Spotte«l 
 Fawn, for a while, that I may meet those who did 
 
J>0 
 
 (jr.EANKK TALES. 
 
 thee hurt and ln'in^ back another scalp to satisfy 
 tliy spirit. Thy fatlier's arm is strong, but it is 
 stronj^or when he tliinks of thee. Tarry a vvhil.- 
 before you cross the river and 1 will finish my task 
 and Join thee in the journey to the huntinfj-t^rouufl; 
 the arm that oft bore you when a child, will CfUTy 
 you over the waters and rocks. Farewell! Oh, my 
 child, my dauj^hter, how could you leave me? Tread 
 softly and slowly, for I will so(^n leave my lo<l«(e ot 
 sorrow an<l see you and cla.sp you to my heart. 
 There was a pause, a <(roan of unutterable S()rn)\v 
 escaped his lips, and he sank lifeless upon thr 
 i^rave. Agitated with deep sympathy, Maggif 
 steppecl forwanl and kneeling beside the Indian 
 stroked his liead ami shoulders as if she had been 
 soothing a child. 
 
 *'])inna tak on sae, Hendock. Sai;* it is to mom-n 
 the loved and lost, but we maun dae our duty in 
 this warl and try to live .sae as to meet them in thf 
 warl ayont. He tliat let the stroke fa', alane 
 can heal the hurt. (Jin yer daughter is deed, it is 
 only for this life. Her voice will be the first to 
 welcome you when you cro.ss death's threshold." 
 
 "I .saw her an hour ago. It is your creed tluit 
 says the dead are not .seen again in this life. I got 
 the medicine from my father that melts the scales 
 from our earthly eyes fc^r a while. Last night I 
 saw my child — last night she was in these arm.s— 
 last night my cheek felt the warmth of her breatli 
 — last night my ears joyed in the ripple of her 
 
IJKMr.CKK. 
 
 91 
 
 liiiiLrliter. Oh, my SpottiMl Kawii, tlio joy, tlio life 
 of my lu'art, why «li<l y<m stray from ine:'" Then, 
 his iimxkI chaiij(in<^, lie spran;^ up with the words, 
 Curses] he the wolves that hunted you, cursed be 
 the catamount that ere])t near that he mi^ht rend 
 yoii! I wiil seek them (ait, I will track them day 
 ly tlay, until I slay the last of them." Here he 
 ground his teeth and remained absorhed for a 
 minute, then turnin<; slwirply, with a wave of the 
 IdukI, he b(»ckoned Ma'^i^ie to follow, and led to the 
 V('rt,'e of the dirt' ()verhan<^in)L^ the Ottawa. "Stay 
 luri' until I come back," he whispered an<l, disap- 
 |ttare<l over the declivity. 
 
 The <;lorious landscape outstretched at her feet 
 ^ootlied, as naut^ht (dse could, the ai^itation of 
 Ma;(f,Me's mind, for Nature's touch is ever gentle 
 ami liealinj^. The <^reat expanse of water, here 
 iirtiTowed into a broad river, there swelling into a 
 lioldc lake, was smooth as a mirror, reHecting hill 
 and tree and rock. Beyond it, was uiu'olled the 
 fuivst as a brightly colored carpet, for the glory uf 
 Autumn was upon it, an<l a trail of smoky mist 
 liuntf on the horizon. An hour might have sped, 
 uht'ii H(;mlock reappeared, with paint washed otl' 
 and ilresse«l in his usual attire. Across his back 
 was slung Ins riHe; at his heel was a gaunt, ill- 
 'tiapeJ dog. "Follow," he said, an«l turning back- 
 ward a few paces, led to where the bank could be 
 It'scended without difiiculty. At the foot of it, lay 
 waiting a canoe, with a boy in the bow. Maggie 
 
 hi 
 
 !•' 
 
 ■:^'- 
 

 (JI.KANKU TALKS. 
 
 sb'ppc)! li^litly intn tlio n-ntn'.and ffciiilock '^\'ii^\t 
 \t\^^ the juuMlr, sliot tlif \\*^]\i skiH' swiftly acr 
 
 < »«.s 
 
 tlio strcjiiii. Wlirn tin* opposite' luiuk was piin..! 
 he s|>raii;^^ asliorr an<l was followed liy MuL-yir 
 Tlu" boy, witliout a won), ])a«l«]l«Ml luick to tli- 
 
 \ illaL^e 
 
 Heiiiiock was in lU) iuoo«l foi* conviM'sation. Tli. 
 cxliaustioii followiuL,^ upon his ni;i'lit-\ i^il was upon 
 Iiini, auil lu' stnujc forward tlirouuli tin* f'liv.r 
 
 foll< 
 
 oWinL"' MIS L-UKlaUc. 
 
 without speak in;;,', Ma;^'';^n< 
 
 ( )nce he halted, on seeinjx Ids dot; creepini;' forwan 
 
 on scentin^^ ;;aine. Pickini;' up a stick, he stepp.-i 
 
 ii;4]itly aft<*r it, and when a covey of partrid;.,'*- 
 rose, threw his missile so successfullv that twont 
 the hirds dropped. Tyi'^o them to his helt, he r. - 
 sumed his monoti)n<)Us trot, and se'Veral miles \\( r. 
 ])assed when the sharp yelps of the do^ su(Mtiily 
 arrested their steps. The alarm came from a point 
 to their h'ft. Hemlock, unslintiiuuf his riHe, r.iuii 
 the <lirecti(ni of the do;;*, whose haying was now in- 
 tense and continuous, and Mae';jie, afraid of losin- 
 
 nn 
 
 sight (jf him, hastened after. A short run l)r()u;ili: 
 the Indian to the edoe of a slouufh, in a tliicket in 
 the centre '»f which his dog was evidently engai:*'/. 
 in mortal comhat with some wild animal. Witli- 
 out a moment's hesitation, the Indian started !■ 
 pick his way across the morass: partially dried 1'} 
 the prolonged drought, and had passed the ceiitiv 
 when there was a crashinjjf of branches an<l a hiii- 
 bear burst out, followed by the dog, which Wii^ 
 
HKMI.ocK. 
 
 98 
 
 limping, from n frnctiin'«l paw. IJeforc lie could 
 turn aside, Ht'inlock \v»is kruK-kod down hy tlu' liirn- 
 l.«'riiiL' brute, wliicli ^Jiiiu'd the solid trmund and 
 
 \V'l.« 
 
 hurry 
 
 iuLT t'orwar* 
 
 1. wl 
 
 H'U, scein 
 
 ^'^^ 
 
 jiL'LTK' conlm<^ 
 
 it spnm;^' for »i hu<^-e hreeh tre*-, with the intent of 
 cliiiihini^ it. lU'foi'e it was a yard up, thr doj^ over- 
 t<Mikit, had fastened its teeth in its hide and pulK'd 
 it down. The hear, rou.sed to utmost ferocity hy 
 l»t.'ini; thwarted, I'asil}' cauj^ht hold of the disahled 
 >\i)if, held it in its forepaws, and standin;^ on its 
 iiiiid feet, with back r«'stin«^r ji;4ainst the tree, was 
 I»r(ic'»'edinfi^ to hu<^ its victim to death, when Mrm- 
 lock came up. He had dropprd his i-itle in the 
 .««luiiL»li, and instead of waiting- to ])ick it up, had 
 rushed forward to rescue his do^*. With upraised 
 hatchet he approacluMl the Itrar, and dralt it so 
 ttiritic a stroke, that the lii;ht w«'apon stuck in 
 tilt' skull. With a ^n*owl of i-aije and pain, the 
 lifiir tiunj; the <lo<' down and hefoi'e Hendoek could 
 ivcuver himself after dealinr^ the blow, fell upon 
 him, too stunned and weak, lu^wever, to <lo more 
 than keep 1dm under. On catchiui^^ her first 
 Lfliiiipse of the bear, AbxLjgie's inclination was to 
 Hce, but, tlie next moment, the* instinct of self- 
 |»ivservation f^ave way to a feelin<( oi .sympathy 
 t\>r the disabled doij, followed }»v absorbinir excite- 
 ineiit as the contest went on. When Hemlock fell 
 underneath the brute, slie gave a shriek, and rush- 
 ed to where the rifle lay. Snatching it, she ran to 
 tlui bear, which lay panting with outstretched 
 
!)4 
 
 <JI.KA\KII TALKS. 
 
 tnn«^'.H' jiinl liJili'-cl<)s«Ml eyes, iiii«i (Icalt liiin a lilow 
 witli tho Imtt. With ii f^roiiti tlu' mnvirMy aiiiinnl 
 rolled over iii<>tioiiless, and Unnlock sprang,' to lijs 
 l\'<'t, and drew his knife. It was unnecessary; th- 
 hear was dead. Nhi«;<^i«' looke«l wildly at the In- 
 <lian, strove to sj)eak, tottered, and fell: the reaction 
 from the <leliriuin of excited feelin;^^ that had sus- 
 tained her liavinj; set in. Tenderlv llendock raiscl 
 her in Ids arms, and carryin^^ her to the edge of tlit 
 swamp, scooped np sntHcient water to hathe li.r 
 forehead. A few anxious mimites passed, wli«ii 
 thi; pallor Ix'gan to j>ass away, and suddenly open- 
 in<^ lier eyes, iMa<jfgie asked, "What of the dogT 
 
 "Never mind Toga; are you hurt?" 
 
 "No; are you?" 
 
 "I am as well as ever, and had not my foot slijip* 1 
 after striking the hear, would havi; spared you wliiu 
 you did." 
 
 "That (k)es not matter," said Maggie, simply, "it 
 was God that put it into my silly head to get tli' 
 gun and it was His stren;;th that gave the blow— 
 not mine." 
 
 "I care not for your God," answered Hemlock in 
 a hollow voice, "I hav(^ known too many who pr*- 
 fess to be His followers to believe in Him." 
 
 "Dinna speak sae," pleaded Maggie. 
 
 "Yesterday," Hemlock went on, " I met tli- 
 topped crow that clings to Oka while taking from 
 a s(juaw her last beaver-skins to say masses for lur 
 dead husband, and I cursed him to his teeth as a 
 
iCK. 
 
 95 
 
 .IcO'ivtT that hi' may vat tlie c<->rn uiul give hack to 
 his (hipcs the coh." 
 
 rnhwdin^ his words, Ma;^«^'it' roso ainl went to- 
 wrtrds the do^r, which was still alive, and he;^an to 
 >troke its hra<l. Its eyes, however, sought not her 
 l.iit his master, and when Hendoek |)iit down his 
 hand, the dying animal t'eehly tried to lick it. At 
 this sign of att'ection, the eyes of Hendoek moisten- 
 ed, and falling on Ids knees he alternately patted 
 the dog and shook his uidmrt paw. "My Toga, my 
 (id friend, my help in many a hunt, my comrade 
 ".vheii we were alone for weeks in the wilderness, 
 are you too going to leave me? You are dying, as 
 the Indian's dog sl»ould die, in the fury of the 
 hunt. A claw of the bear I shall wrap in a piece 
 of my wampum belt and put into your ikiouth, so 
 that Spotted Fawn may know whose dog you were, 
 and you will serve lier and follow her until I join 
 you in the happy liunting-ground — and that will 
 not be long." 
 
 As if sensible of wliat lie said the dog whimpered, 
 and with a last effort place<l its head in his out- 
 stretched hands. Then it gave a kick or two, and 
 tlied. 
 
 The Indian rose, and selecting a knoll where 
 ■spruces grew thickly, kindled a fire. Wrapping 
 the two partridges tightly in wet grass and several 
 folds of green birch bark, he waited until there 
 were embers, on which he placed them, and lieaped 
 fresh fuel. Asking Maggie to keep up the fire, he 
 
9G 
 
 OLEANER TALES. 
 
 I 
 
 I'll! 
 
 I '.it 
 
 Vi> 
 
 left and was away for some time. When lie canir 
 back he had the bear's pelt and several slices of 
 steak, which he proceeded to broil. On lifting tlu' 
 partridges, their bodies came out clean from their 
 covering of feathers, and on tearing them apart tli( 
 entrails, dried and shrivelled, were easily drawn. 
 Maggie had eiiten many a partridge, but a sweotii 
 bite than the breast of one so cooked she had ne' ( r 
 tasted, and with a piece of the bread in her pocket, 
 she made a light but refreshing dinner. The bear- 
 steak she could not look upon, but like qualms did 
 not interfere with Hemlock's appetite, who ate them 
 with greater relish because part of his late enemy 
 and the slayer of his dog. He had filled Ids flask 
 with water from a spring near by, and Maggie re- 
 marked, if she "only had a pinch o' saut, she coul(hia 
 have asked for a better dinner." Trimmino- aii-l 
 scraping the bear's hide, to make it light as pos- 
 ble. Hemlock wrapped it into a bundle, and strapped 
 it on his back. Then looking to the priming of hi- 
 rifle, he told Maggie he was ready. 
 
 "But the puir dowg; will ye no bury him?" 
 "I have buried him," answered Hemlock, "and 
 poisoned the carcase of the bear that it may sicken 
 the wolves that eat of it." 
 
 The toncfue of Hemlock was now free, and a- 
 they trudged on, he kept up a constant conversn- 
 tion, surpr' jing Maggie by the extent of his infor- 
 mation and the shrewdness of his judgment. B 
 cominjx conscious that the sun was descending, sin 
 
 I'- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 07 
 
 expressed a fear that she could not reach home 
 tliat night. "No, you cannot, and I do not mean 
 you should, but you will rest safe before sunset. 1 
 am taking you to the fort at Coteau-du-lac." 
 
 "That is oot o' oor way, Hemlock." 
 
 " Xot very far; it is necessary I see Colonel Scott 
 i\s to how to save Morton." 
 
 Maorffie said no more, for that was reason enouf^h 
 to go a hundred miles out of the way, though she 
 thought with pain of the anxiety her absence for 
 another night would give her parents. "Father 
 will think I did not find Hemlock at Oka and that 
 I am looking for him," she concluded at last, "and 
 will not borrow trouble about me." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Colonel Scott was pacing the walk in front (•! 
 the battery of the little fort of Coteau-du-lac, view- 
 ing alternately lake 8t Francis, glittering peacefully 
 in the rays oi the fast westering sun, and the swii't- 
 running river into which it contracted where Ih 
 stood, with the surge.: of the rapids farther down. 
 He was tall, and his face was that of a man win 
 had intellect to conceive and will to put his con- 
 ceptions into force. To the door of a house larger 
 than any of its neighbors, and before wiiich a 
 sentry paced, the Colonel often glanced and when 
 a lady came out, he stepped to meet her. It v'a.< 
 his wife, who joined him for an airing before 
 dinner. After admiring, as she had done every 
 day since her arrival, the contrast between the 
 lake and the river, as it went sweeping downwards 
 between forest- covered islands, she asked, "Anrl i^ 
 there any news? I heard an arrival reported." 
 
 "N«yne since the despatch of last night and it 
 said Wilkinson was still at Sackett's Harbor." 
 
 "So we may not expect his Hotilla of boats this 
 week?" 
 
 "No, and were I in Sir George Prevost's placi. 
 they would never 1 .ive Sackett's Harbor." 
 
\ 
 
 H KM LOCK. 
 
 99 
 
 '•Wliv, voii luivci told me liis Exc(vlk'ncv lias nut 
 >utficient navjil iorce to atbick them." 
 
 "I would not attack the flotilla; 1 would render 
 ils purpose abortive. What is the American plan ol' 
 invasion!' I can oive it to you in a nutshell, Helen, 
 Wilkinson is to take possession of the St Lawrence 
 with his flotilla an<l is to meet Hampton at the 
 •.iiouth of the Chateau^ay rivei-,when the combined 
 torces will land on the island of Monti'eal and cap- 
 ture it and the city. Now, to defeat this plan, it 
 is not necessary to destroy tin* flotilla. If the line 
 nf communication between Wilkinson and Hamp- 
 ton is cut, the whole scheme fails." 
 
 "And how would you cut the liner" 
 
 "Why, as I have represented time and a<j;'ain to 
 liea(l(iuarters, V)y the capture of French Mills. Four 
 hundred men could take and hold that piace, and 
 with it in British liands Wilkinson and Hampton 
 wouM be as completely prevented from actini^ in 
 concert as if Hampton was back to his slaves in 
 Carolina and Wilkinson to his gally-pots. It pro- 
 vokes me to see the opportunities our foi-ces miss. 
 The war in the time of Washington w^as a s<'i-ies of 
 blunders on our side and it looks as if the second 
 was <^oing to be a repetition." 
 
 "And you blame his E.xcellency?" 
 
 "Yes and his staff'. He is brave personally, and 
 lie is active to fuesiness, but he is unable to plan a 
 campaign or carry it out. Hei-e we have the flower 
 i the British army arriving by every convoy, yet 
 
 s\ 
 
100 
 
 OLEANEH TALES. 
 
 our policy is a purely defensive one and clmiigcd 
 every day. Out upon such a peddling course ot 
 action! I would teach the braggarts who lurk (ui 
 yonder lieights that Canada is not to be invadtd 
 with impunity, and that she has hearts to dare jvn<l 
 die in defence of her independence." 
 
 "Well, Norman, it may prove to be all for tli< 
 best. So far Canada has repulsed every attempt 
 at invasion." 
 
 "It is not for the best. I have made suggestion 
 after suggestion to improve the opportunities pn- 
 sen ted to me, and every one has been set aside, aii'l 
 I am con<lemned to a course of inaction that galN 
 and frets me." 
 
 Here an orderly approached. "An Indian anl 
 a young woman want to speak with you." 
 
 "I will go," said Mrs Scott. 
 
 "Do not," cried the Colonel, "what tete-a-tet' 
 may I not have with the lovely squaw." 
 
 "Please, sir," said the orderly, "she is not a squaw 
 She is white and a Scotchwoman by her speech." 
 
 "And young to boot," exclaimed Mrs Scott archly 
 "I shall certainly stay and keep you from fallin; 
 into temptation." 
 
 "Bring them this way," said the Colonel, and tli* 
 orderly returned with Hemlock nnd Maggie. 
 
 "In truth an odd-matched pair," whispered th' 
 Colonel as he saw them approach. 
 
 " Why, it's you. Hemlock. I thought you wen 
 raising the war-whoop on the Huntingdon frontier 
 
 And w 
 I'c you 
 The 
 .'ippj"(»a( 
 •'•I, "An 
 >tnick 1 
 " W(.J 
 ('liinl»r()( 
 Jn rcj 
 at Oka, 
 what pii 
 pri'ssion 
 thv huVu 
 tions. V 
 Ills h'st <|< 
 lie stood 
 were boa 
 hie of sn 
 wcaj-inrr 
 t" escape 
 tanners a 
 tiiey send 
 "thcer in 
 'hitytoch 
 With a 
 
 •^b-s8cott 
 from his 
 
 Addressini 
 '^lorton to 
 these woo( i 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 101 
 
 Alul who limy your companion bo^ Too young to 
 lie your wife — too fair to be your sweetlieart." 
 
 The Indian's features relaxe<l into the nearest 
 nppioaeh tliey ever came to a smile, as he answer- 
 ed, "An arrow from another bow than mine has 
 struck tlie doe." 
 
 " Well, Hemlock, do you brinj^ me news from Hin- 
 cliinhrook:' When is Hanipton goin^i^ to n)arch T' 
 
 In reply, Hemlock la-ieHy told liow he had been 
 ;it Oka, was souj^ht out there by Mat^gie and for 
 what purpose. The Colonel listened with stern ex- 
 pression as he was told of Alorton's peril, and when 
 the Indian had done, lu^ plied Magf^ie with (pKis- 
 tions. When she had told all, the Colonel brought 
 his fist down heavily on the cannon beside which 
 Ik; stood as he exclaimed, "I knew these Americans 
 were boasters but I did not think they were capa- 
 l>le of such cruelty. Once they hung a gentleman 
 wearing His Majesty's unifoi'in and were allowed 
 to escape under the belief that, tradesmen and 
 tanners as they were, they ki.'^w no better, but if 
 they send a second to the gallows, there is not an 
 <ttlicer in C^anada wh(^ would not consider it his 
 • hity to challenge every one concerned in the deed." 
 
 With a glatice of apprehension at her husband, 
 Mrs Scott with admirable tact strove to divert him 
 from his vengeful uhxhI by changing the subject. 
 Addressing Mai^ine she asked, "And what is Mr 
 Morton to you that you should risk the peril of 
 these woods to save him:* Is he a brother?" 
 
102 
 
 (; LEA NEK TALES. 
 
 "Hl" is ii('ith»*r kitli nor kin to mi'," answercl 
 Mnorrie. 
 
 "'J'liL' attraction is of another sort, then. Cupiil 
 flios Ins aiTows in these woods as well as tlie red 
 wanioi*." 
 
 Ma^i»ie ]jhishe<l and the Colonel, t'ori'ettino' his 
 anger, fjallantly came to lier rescue. "And if li»- 
 does, madam, 1 would say to Master Cupid, j^ivr 
 ine the maiden who, like our fair Magf,ne, wouM 
 (lai'e the dra'^ons (jf the Held and Hood to save her 
 J over. 
 
 "(Jh!" retorted Mi*s Scott, "that is as much as t<> 
 say, I would not do that and more for ycni. What 
 thankless monsters you men are!" 
 
 "Xay, spare me, Helen, and as l)y what she ]ui> 
 told us, she has walked from Oka today, perhaps 
 you will take her with you and play the hostess." 
 
 "She has done more than walk from Oka today, 
 said Hendock, "she killed a bear and saved niv 
 life." 
 
 "What!" cried Mrs Scott in astonishment, and 
 Hendock told the story of the encountei*. When 
 lie had done the C^olonel stepped forward and 
 o^raspint]^ Maggie's hands he said, "I honor you n> 
 a brave man honors a brave woman, and if their 
 is any possibility of saving Mr Morton's life, it 
 shall be done " 
 
 Maggie was too overcome to reply, and Mrs Scott. 
 slipping her arm into hers, led her away to her hus- 
 band's (quarters, leaving Hendock and the Colonel 
 
¥ 
 
 HEMLOCK. 
 
 io;{ 
 
 in oaf(or converse, -Nvlnch lasted until (l{iylii;bt had 
 iit-arlv tVuled and until a servant came with word 
 that dinner was waitin^"- the Colonel. Ordering the 
 stTvant to call one of the sergeants, the Colonel 
 coiiunitted Hemlock to his hospitable care and then 
 entered his own (juarteis. Maggie spent one of the 
 most delightful evenings of her life in the company 
 of the Colonel and his wife, forjrettinix her weari- 
 iiess and the excitement she had passed through in 
 the enjoyment of social convei'se of a brighter and 
 virler scope than she had been accustomed. When 
 hi'fltiine came she was solicitous about beino- called 
 (7irly so that Hendock might not be kept waiting, 
 wlieii the Colonel assured her he would take her res- 
 toration to her home by the Chateaugay into his own. 
 liaiuls. When she made her appearance next day, 
 >he found her cnitertainers seated on the veranda, 
 •And was concerned to learn that it was near noon 
 <ind that Hendock had left at sunrise. The anxi- 
 ous look V.dt flitted across her face, the Colonel 
 relieved by telling her that Hemlock had chosen 
 a route she could not have followed, across the 
 '4ivat swamp that lay between the 8t Lawrence 
 and the Chateaugay, and that he carried a letter 
 to her father, telling where she was and that she 
 would go home by the first safe opportunity. 
 
 "And now, my dear Maggie," said Mrs Scott, 
 '\ou need not be concerned about those at home 
 liiit be my companion for a few days. Buried 
 away here in these romantic wilds, you cannot 
 
104 
 
 <iL?:ANEK TALES. 
 
 conceive wliat a treat it is to me to have your 
 society." 
 
 "You are welcome, Miss Forsyth," added tlif 
 Cvolonel, "and you will get a chance before lonjj;- nt' 
 a convoy to Annfield, for I expect one from Kiii;;- 
 ston by the end of the week." 
 
 "But they niay be needing me at home, Colontl: 
 my mother is frail and if the Yankees have cross«'(l 
 she will be sore in need of my help." 
 
 "Make yourself easy as to that," said the Colonrl 
 with a smile. "Oeneral Haujpton, as I know for 
 an assured fact, has not crossed the fi'ontier ami 
 will not for several days, at least — perhaps nevt-r, 
 for he has no heart in the undertaking. As to 
 Wilkinson coming, I wish he would. I am just 
 afraid he is going to deprive me of the pleasure of 
 giving him the warm reception I have gone to so 
 much trouble to prepare. After lunch, or I'atht'r 
 your breakfast, we will take the boat and seo 
 that everything is in order for him." 
 
 A couple of hours later they were seated in tlio 
 Colonel's long boat, manned by four tars, who, 
 however, were spared the labor of rowing all the 
 way, for the wind was favorable. Heading Grando 
 Isle, they sailed down the south channel of the 8t 
 Law^rence to a narrow point, where, by means of 
 the trunks of huge trees anchored above where 
 rapids foamed, the passage of boats was made im- 
 possible and before these obstructions could be 
 lifted out, the Colonel pointed to his wife ami 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 10; 
 
 i) 
 
 MaL((;ie how a concoaltMl batWry aided by sliarp- 
 >lu)oters hid among tlie t'oliaj^e tluit lined the river 
 would decimate the occupants of the hoats. He 
 considered the southern channel to he so eti'ectually 
 dosed that Wilkinson would not attempt it and 
 would, therefore, liave to take the northern, where 
 lie would have to run the <(auntlet of the tire of 
 the fort at Coteau-du-lac. "True it is," added the 
 Colonel, "that that channel is wide and the current 
 Hwift, yet with a fire from hoth hanks many hoats 
 must needs be crippled or sunk, and those that do 
 escape would have to face a similar ordeal at Lonj^ 
 Point, opposite the Cedars rapids, where another 
 liiittery has been placed." 
 
 "What if the Americans passed in tlie dark?" 
 >ui(irested Maggie. 
 
 "Yes," added Mrs Scott, "or what if they landed 
 ii part of their large force before they came within 
 range of the Coteau batteries and assailed then» 
 from the land-side?" 
 
 "All that I have considered. Were they to p..ss 
 ill the dark, they would not see to shoot the rapids 
 properly, and their angry waters would be moi-e 
 tlisastrous than our shot. As to a flank movement, 
 I rely on the Indian scouts to bring me w(jrd and, 
 fully warned of their coming, these woods are so 
 dense and cut up by swamps, that, with a hundred 
 men, I would undertake to repulse a thousand." 
 
 "So you keep constant watch?" asked Maggie. 
 
 "Unceasing," answered the Colonel. "If you 
 
 i 
 
100 
 
 rir.EAXKll TAF-ES. 
 
 it 
 
 t>il\(; this telescope you will perceive a sail at tlir 
 upper end of the lake. It is one of the i^unhout- 
 on th(; watcli, and which would, on appearance (•!' 
 Wilkinson's Hotilla, either make for C'oteau or il" 
 the wind were unfavorahle send a row-hoat. Then, 
 on that farthest island there is a <niard of re<rulrtr^. 
 who are likely to i^nve the island a name, for al- 
 ready it is called (Jrenadier island. ^I'o the ^uani 
 on that islan<l, scouts on the scnithern sliore repoit 
 daily." 
 
 'Surely you Iwive contrived well," exclainifl 
 Mai^o'ie, "and I just wish the Yankees would cuuir 
 and ^et what you have prepared for them." 
 
 '"Tlieir kail hct throu;^h the reek, as the Scotch 
 sav,'" lau^^hcd the C\)lonel, "well I am just afraid I 
 will not see them. Along the river, between Pres- 
 cott and Cornwall, there is such a succession of 
 ])oiTits of attack, tliat, from all I learn of liim. 
 Wilkinson is not soldier enou<;h to overcome." 
 
 In returninjT, the boat landed the party in a cove 
 on Cirande Isle, whence, tVom under the shade of 
 maples, they scanned the lake, shinnnering in tin- 
 sun, and the islets, heavy with trees I'ichly coloreil 
 by Autunni's tinoei's, set in it like gems. 
 
 "This is so pleasant," remarked Mrs Scott, "that 
 I do not wonder at people growing to passionately 
 love Canada. ])o you prefer Canada to Scotland. 
 Mafjorie?" 
 
 "I never saw Scotland," replied Maggie, "but I 
 dearly love Canada and can lind it in my heart to 
 
in;.Mi.(M K. 
 
 lo: 
 
 \\i>li tlwi* tlic ( 'oloncl iimywrin^ tin* necks of those 
 wlin arc ti*vin«f to take it awjiv tVoiii us." 
 
 ' W'rll sjiid!" slioutc*! tlic ( \)loncI, "uiid Canada i» 
 ,(. fiivoi'cd )>v nature in her line of (K't'ence and in 
 li.r climate, that 1 cannot conceive how. if her 
 pi'u]>le are true, she can ever conie under the heel 
 of a conr|Uei'or." 
 
 The day passed ha])|)ily and so<lid seveivil otlun's. 
 A(r<»iii])anvin<4; Mrs Scott, Many-ie visite(l the little 
 canals that enahled the boats, that plied hetwecn 
 MMiitreal and Uppei* Canada, to overcome the 
 mpids, to sec the lockmen and their families, and 
 wjitch the peculiar class of men who assisted tm- 
 Koats in ])assing' upwards, either hy polinn^ and 
 tu\vin<^ or l)V li^'htenini,^ their load with the lielp 
 (•f their diminutive cai'ts and ponies. With tlie 
 'ari'ison and its daily life she became fjimiliar, and 
 tilt' detachment of blue jackets, drafted from the 
 iiu'ii-of-war at Quebec, partly cnii'aued in niannini;' 
 the i^unboats already afloat and in building others, 
 >lio never wearied in watchinj^. Kach day endeared 
 litT n»ore to Mrs Scott, who, she learned, liad sacri- 
 tiird her comfort and safety, by accomi)anyinix her 
 husband on duty. Followinii' the reiiiment, she 
 hatl been with him in India, l%ypt, and Spain, 
 and, when ordered on special service to Canada, 
 liad unliesitatingly followed him, leaving* their two 
 children with friends in Enu'land. Maooie saw that 
 h»*i- pi-esence was a lielp rather than a drag upon 
 the Colonel, whom she assisted and cared for as 
 
 f 
 
108 
 
 ri LEAN Ell TALES. 
 
 only a true woman can and pn'srrvcd )iini t'r<»iii 
 many privations ho must otlicrwist' have innhr- 
 ).,^()ni'. While most anxious to he at liomr a^^ain, 
 it was not without a pan^^ of rr^^n't that iMa;.,^<ri(' 
 h'arne<l ono mornin'r that a th't-t ot* the Kiiiirs 
 Ijatraux wr*s in si;^dit coniiiiL,^ <lown the lake. An 
 liour afterwards she was on hoard of one, waviii;; 
 farewell to her friends. J^anded at tlio foot of tlif 
 Cascade rapids, she walked home before sunset. 
 
CHArTKU Vlll. 
 
 The army did not l)e<^iii a forward moveiiK'ut 
 tuwanls Canada on tlie day of Morton's interview 
 with Hampton. It was only tlu* tirst of scvenil 
 Hlnative starts, and i\w autumn days were draw- 
 int,' towards an end with the army still encamped 
 at Four Corners. The American puhlic was in- 
 dignant at its inaction: much liad heen expected 
 of the army, yet it had accomplished nothin*;, and 
 the campaigning season was near an end. The 
 denunciations of the Albany an<l New York news- 
 papers Hampton could not stoop to reply to- thost; 
 of the Washington authorities he answered by lay- 
 ing the blame upon Wilkinson. He was to move 
 on Montreal in conjunction with that general, and 
 his failure to leave Sackett's Harbor he gave as 
 the cause of his own inaction. To the critics who 
 suggested he had sufficient strength to capture 
 Montreal unaided, he repFcsented that his orders 
 from Washington expressly re<iuired him to co- 
 operate with the flotilla that was hugging the 
 shelter of Sackett's Harbor. If he was left free 
 to act by the secretary-of-war, he would show the 
 country what he could do, but he was not free. 
 
i 
 
 110 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 There were tliose who thon<j^ht his excuses wtri' 
 the offsprinf^ of his secret wish, to get out of tlic 
 c.aiiipaign without risking any great moveiiioiit. 
 In all those clays of dallying, Morton lay forlorn 
 in the stable, sick of his confinement and of pro- 
 longed suspense, until the doctor, taking pity upon 
 him, asked, if the General could be induced to grant 
 him the freedom of the camp on parole, would lie 
 accept it^ Eager to get out of his dismal prison 
 and hopeless of escape, Morton eagerly embraced 
 the offer, and next day lie was told he was at 
 liberty to leave his wretched abode during day- 
 light. The boon proved to be of less advantage 
 than he had anticipated. The officers would not 
 consort with him, professing to believe he had been 
 a party to the disfigurement and murder of thtii- 
 late comrade, and the rank-and-file swore at liim 
 as an abettor of the Indians and as a Britislu r. 
 The miscarriage of the campaign had soured tho 
 tempers of the troops, and they were ready to vent 
 it upon Morton or any othei* of the enemy who 
 came witliin reach of tlieir tongues. After a few 
 hours' unpleasant experience, Morton i-eturned to 
 his stable indignant and humiliated. Altho' thus 
 cut oft* from intercourse with the military, he en- 
 joyed the freedom of moving about. Even lyiiiir 
 on the grass and watchinc: the face of nature, was 
 inexpress'bl}'' sweet to him. In course of time li<' 
 scraped ac(juaintance with a few civilians, and 
 especially with a storekeeper, Douglass, a Scotch- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 man, wlio showed hiiu such kindness as lie dared 
 without bringing upon liiniself the suspicion of 
 disloyalty. The weather, which had been uninter- 
 ruptedly dry and hot, underwent a sudden change, 
 to wet and cold, and from suspense as to when 
 they would march into Canada the troops began to 
 liope that orders would come from Washington to 
 retire into winter-tpiarters. One particularly cold, 
 rainy evening, Morton retired to rest in a mood 
 that was in keeping with his dismal surroundings, 
 and courted sleep to give him temporary relief. 
 How lonor he miorht have been lost in slumber ho 
 was unconscious, when awakened by something 
 lightly passing over his face. "Keep (piiet," said a 
 voice: "do not cry or you may attract the guard." 
 The darkness was intense; the patter of tlie rain 
 i^n the roof the only sound without. The voice 
 Morton recognized at once as Hemlock's. 
 
 "How did you get here? Do you not know they 
 would tear you limb from limb if they found you?" 
 
 "1 know it all, but an Indian brave counts noth- 
 ing when lit' goes to save a friend. Get up and go 
 with me." 
 
 A momentary feeling of exultation fluttered in 
 Morton's breast at the prospect of liberty, followed 
 I'y the depressing recollection that he had given 
 his word not to escape. 
 
 "I cannot go with you," he said in a voice of 
 despair. 
 
 "Why? You are well of your hurt, and you can 
 
112 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 
 run a mile or two if we are followed. Como, mv 
 arm will help you." 
 
 "Hemlock, had you come a fortnight ago I wouM 
 have jumped at your call: I cannot tonight, for 1 
 have given my word of honor not to escape. I am 
 a prisoner on parole." 
 
 'Honor! Did tliese Americans treat you as men 
 of honor, when they put the rope round your neck.' 
 Your promise is nothing. Come!" 
 
 "I cannot, Hemlock. Let them be what thev 
 ma;^ , it shall never be said that a British offictr 
 broke his word. Leave me; get away at once, or 
 you may b. caught." 
 
 "I will not leave without you. Think of the 
 fair doe that sorrows in secret by the ChateaufT^ay 
 for you and sought me out to bring you. Come, 
 you shall be wnth her before another sun has set. ' 
 
 Morton was puzzled by this speech, but was toii 
 anxious concerning Hemlock's safety to delay by 
 asking what it meant. 
 
 " Save yourself, Hemlock ; the patrol will bo 
 round soon, and if you are discovered you are lost. 
 
 "I fear not: they cannot take me alive." 
 
 "For my sake, then, go; I will not leave, I will 
 Iceep the promise I have given. Consider this my 
 fiiend, if you are found here it is death to me as 
 well as you. Go." 
 
 "Not without you; I will carry you on my back, 
 whether you will or not," and ho laid his hand 
 upon Morton to grasp hold of him. At that mo- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 113 
 
 ment, the sound of the tramp of an approaching 
 detachni'int of soldiers was heard. "It is the pat- 
 rol, Hemlock; fly for God's sake." 
 
 Hemlock stepped to the door for an instant, then 
 turning to Morton whispered, "they have torches 
 and will see what I have done, and that will give 
 the alarm. Come, go with me." 
 
 "I cannot," said Morton decisively. 
 
 "Then, give me a token to show her who sent 
 me that I did my duty," said Hemlock. Eager for 
 his escape, Morton plucked the signet-ring from 
 his finger and pressed it into the Indian's hand 
 with a farewell grasp. Noiselessly and swiftly 
 Hemlock glided out, across the open, and was lost 
 to sight. Seeing how near the patrol were, Morton 
 closed the door and lay down upon his bed of straw. 
 He heard the tramp of the troops draw nearer, and 
 then a sharp cry of "Halt!" followed by a shout of 
 horror and a volley of curses. "The damned In- 
 dians are about!" a voice cried. "Poor Tom," said 
 another, "he died like a stuck pig." "See to the 
 i'ritisher," shouted a third, "he must know of it." 
 "B: ck to your ranks," commanded the officer, "I 
 will see to what is to be done." Sending a mossen- 
 ger to headquarters to report, he detailed three 
 others to approach the stable and bring out Mor- 
 ton. One of the three remonstrated. "Tlie redskin 
 may be hiding there and kill us." "Obey orders," 
 yelled the officer to his men, who had peculiar ideas 
 of military obedience. "Our muskets cover you." 
 
114 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 1 I 
 
 Reluctantly they approached, and two sinuiltanc- 
 ously burst in the door with a rush, while the tliinl 
 held a torch. Their only discovery was Mc^rtoii 
 lying in his bed. He was roughly dragged to the 
 captain, who, with his men, stood around somethin- 
 stretched upon the grass. 
 
 "What do you know of this, prisoner?" asked tli. 
 captain, and a soldier waved a torch over the ol - 
 ject. Morton, with a shudder, perceived it was tin 
 body 0^^ a soldier that had been stabbed in tli. 
 breast, and scalped. 
 
 "This body is warm," said the captain, "the ihv^l 
 has been done within a (juarter of an hour: you lay 
 within 20 yards of its perpetration; I demand vsliat 
 you know of the slaughter of this sentry of tin 
 United States army." 
 
 Morton liesitated. He had no moral doubt thai 
 Hemlock had committed the deed, and that tin 
 scalp of the dead n)an was then dangling from hi> 
 belt, and in his horror of the act was about +o tell 
 all, when he suddenly recollected that by doing sm 
 he would show himself ungrateful to Hendock. 
 
 "I neither saw nor heard aught of this foiil mur- 
 der," answered Morton, but his hesitation in reply- 
 ing was noted by men disposed to suspect liim. 
 "Let n^e put my bayonet through him," said oneut 
 tlie soldiers with an oath, as he rushed upon Mor- 
 ton. There was a flash from the adjoining Imsli. 
 the crack of a rifli and the soldier fell dead, with 
 a bullet in his forehead. 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 n 
 
 l) 
 
 "Out witli tlu' liL^Hits," slirie'ked tlio captain in a 
 transport of tVar, as he struck one torcli down with 
 his sword and tlie otliers were tln'own into the 
 pools of rainwater. For a minute or two they 
 listened witli palpitatini^^ hearts in tlie darkness, 
 and then tlie captain whispered for them to move 
 to headquarters, the lights of whicli were seen near 
 Ity. Forgotten hy thetn in their alarm, Morton 
 made his way l)ack to the stable and Hung himself 
 down on his pallet nf straw, pei'plexed and agitat- 
 t J. In vain he tried to sleep and the night dragged 
 wearily on. When daylight at last hegan to dawn, 
 upon a scene of sullen rain and sodden fields, the 
 sound of voices told him his capt(3rs were on the 
 alert. The door was violently opened and a sol- 
 'lier looked in and reported to his comrades outside, 
 
 The varmint is still here," to which he heard the 
 reply, "That beats me!" An hour lat<'r a scout en- 
 tered lighted a candle, and proceeded to examine the 
 Hoor of the stable and its contents. When he was 
 ilone, the door was bolted and, Morton felt assured, 
 a .cL-ntry placed outside. Breakfast time passed 
 without his caterer appearing and the forenoon 
 was well advanced before he was disturbed, wlien a 
 k'tachment of troops halted and an officer entered. 
 I have come, Mr Morton, to take you to head- 
 luarters." 
 
 (loing out, Morton was placed between tiles and 
 iiiarcherl to the General's (quarters, where he was 
 ^hown into a room wliere several officers wei-e seat- 
 
J 16 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 e<l. Motioned to stand at the foot of the table, the 
 presiding officer, a tall, cadaverous man, asked him 
 to tell what he knew of the event of the past night. 
 
 "Is this a court-martial and am I on trial?" 
 
 "No, it is a committee of enquiry. There ain't 
 no call for trying you, seein' you are already a con- 
 demned culprit." 
 
 "Then, why should I answer you?" 
 
 " Wall, if you make a clean breast of it, we moiiglit 
 recommend the General to commute your sentence." 
 
 "And should I not see fit to answer this irre<;ular 
 tribunal?" 
 
 "I ain't going to knock round the bush with you. 
 At home, everybody knows Major Spooner as up- 
 and-down, frank and square, and I tell you, if you 
 don't spit out all you know, the rope won't he 
 taken off your neck a second time." 
 
 " What I know of last night's shocking event I 
 am ready to communicate to any gentleman who 
 approaches me in an honorable manner, but I scorn 
 to say a word under threats." 
 
 The officers here exchanged nods and winks, and 
 one said: "I knew Mister President, he wouldnt 
 tell — he dassn't. He had a hand in killing Jack- 
 son — gagged his mouth, mebbe, while the redskin 
 drew his knife." 
 
 Morton, stung to the quick, turned indignantly 
 to the speaker, "Sir, if I had my sword you would 
 either take back your words or know what cold 
 steel is." 
 
 "Pf 
 
 care f 
 
 "Th 
 
 one." ( 
 
 Then 
 
 afearec 
 
 lose til 
 
 give ev 
 
 A o, 
 
 "Tha 
 
 "EXC! 
 
 Morton 
 officer w 
 professio 
 "I came 
 
 therefore 
 you will 
 tlie accus 
 "Sartai 
 "Then, 
 "jght one 
 you slept 
 •^ay, I do 
 ^ny hand 
 ♦'xperts wi 
 Petrator, a 
 •^oil, trace( 
 Indian to 
 J'xjging . PI 
 
 ^vhence cai 
 
ii*:mlock. 
 
 117 
 
 "Pshaw," was the contemptuous retort, "I don't 
 care for anything in the shape of a Britisher." 
 
 "That's so, and you know first-rate how to rile 
 one," exclaimed the presiding officer approvingly. 
 Then addressing Morton, he added, * We ain't 
 afeared of your threats, young man, and won't 
 lose time with you — yes or no, are you going to 
 oive evidence?"' 
 
 "No," answered Morton firmly. 
 
 "That will do: withdraw the prisoner." 
 
 "Excuse me. Major Spooner," said a voice behind. 
 Morton turned and saw standing by the door an 
 officer whose bearing indicated he was a soldier by 
 profession and not one of a few months' standing. 
 "I came in after the examination had begun and 
 therefore did not take my seat at the board. If 
 you will allow me, I will endeavor to represent to 
 the accused how matters stand." 
 
 "Sartainly, Colonel Vanderberg; yer ken try him." 
 
 "Then, Mr Morton, the case stands thus: last 
 night one of our men on guard, posted near where 
 you slept, wa? stabbed and scalped. I need not 
 say, I do not believe for a moment you had 
 any hand in that deed. However, this morning 
 experts were sent to discover the trail of the per- 
 petrator, and they, favored by the softness of the 
 soil, traced the steps of the moccasined feet of an 
 Indian to where the guard stood, thence to your 
 lodging - place and finally from it to the bush 
 whence came the shot that killed one of the patrol. 
 
118 
 
 (JMOANKK TAIXS. 
 
 Moro than all this, I may tell you the i'ootiiiark^ 
 of the Indian arc plain inside the stable and beside 
 the place in it where yon slept are marks caused 
 by drojis of lilood. It is thus beyond all (picstion 
 that the Indian visited you, and, with a view to 
 (liscoverinLi' him and so checkinjjf a system of bar- 
 barons warfare repulsive to all true soldiers, wr 
 ask you to tell us what you know of him — ask you, 
 not under threats or takiuLT advanhii»:e of your un- 
 fortunate position, but as a i^entleiiian and a soldier 
 to assist us by tellinu' what you know of the mys- 
 terious affair." 
 
 Morton bowed to the Colonel and replied he 
 had no liesitation in telling him what lie knew, 
 and he recounted briefly how he had been awaken- 
 ed during the night by an Indian and urged to fl\' 
 with him. He was prepared to take oath that he 
 knew not of his sla^^ing the guard, and the drops 
 of blood upon the straw that formed liis bed nnist 
 have dripped from the scalp as the Indian stooped 
 over him and urged him to accompany liim. Mor- 
 ton miMitioned no name, and none of his questioners 
 seemed to think he could have known the Indian. 
 At any rate their incredulity of liis story, vergin*^ 
 on disgust, rendered cross-questioning superfluous, 
 Major Spooner said he could not swallow the yarn, 
 and another officer remarked it would be easier for 
 him to 2fO without his bitters for a month than be- 
 lieve a Britisher would not run away when he had 
 a chance, to which the others agreed. 
 
HEMI/)C'K. 
 
 110 
 
 •'Wlirtt!" cxclaiinod Morton, "do you think, after 
 ^ivin^^ my word of lionor to your (leneral that I 
 woiiM not attempt to escape, that I would do so?" 
 
 "That is just what we do think, and that there 
 was something we don't know of that kept you 
 fntin running away with the Indian." 
 
 .\h)rton's an^^er amxin rose and lie was ahout to 
 sav somethinf^ rash, when Colonel Vanderhero- crave 
 Ills shouhh'r a monitory touch. "If none of you 
 ulfii'ct, I will take chari»;e of Mr Morton." 
 
 "Ver welkim to the critter," remarked Major 
 Spooner, at wliicli tlie others expectorated in order 
 to laugh. "He is under sentence of death, and it 
 liu.s with the General to say when it shall be carried 
 uiit. If he is willing you should undertake the 
 provost-marshars duty, this conunittee of enquiry 
 KtitT vou their confjratulations." 
 
 To this raillery Colonel Vanderberg said naught, 
 and taking Morton by the arm led him into a 
 vacant room. "Stay here for a minute," he said. 
 On re-entering he grasped Morton by the hand, 
 while he informed him "the General has given me 
 pirmission to take you with me, and will you ride 
 with me to Fort Hickory?" 
 
 'With all my heart," answered Morton, and go- 
 ing to the door found several troopers waiting the 
 Colonel, who pointed to Morton to get on the back 
 of one of three spare horses. He did so and they 
 galloped out of the village. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Maggie was busy with household duties when 
 Hemlock entered and sat down near the table at 
 which she stood. 
 
 "All away?" he asked. 
 
 "All except mother, who is having her aft jrnoon 
 nap." 
 
 Casting a suspicious glance round, the Indian 
 drew something out of his pouch. "Do you know- 
 that?" 
 
 It was a ring. Maggie examined it and as she 
 recognized whose it was, blushed. 
 
 "Is he alive?' >he asked, in a low earnest tone, 
 as if fearful that it was a memorial gift. 
 
 "Yes; I was with him and spoke to him night 
 before last." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At Four Corners." 
 
 "Tell me all?" entreated Maggie, and Hemlock 
 recounted his visit, closing with the remark, "If he 
 had come with me, he would have been here now." 
 
 "But he would have broken his word to the 
 Yankees," urged Maggie in his defence. 
 
 "And perhaps they will break his neck," answered 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 121 
 
 Hemlock with a grunt. "Major Stovin told me 
 that Hampton's answer to his letter was that 
 he could allow no interference from outside in his 
 disposal of spies." 
 
 "Morton is not a spy," exclaimed Maggie in 
 dignantly. 
 
 "They will punish him all the same unless I 
 give myself up," said Hemlock, "and I mean to." 
 
 "Oh, Hemlock, they would kill you." 
 
 "Maybe, but Indian would save his friend." 
 
 "He may get off when our men beat them." 
 
 The Indian's lip curled. "The owls are telling 
 the eagles what to do. When the order came to 
 the Indian bands not to fight but just watch, I left. 
 We would have hung to their sides like wasps on 
 a deer, and marked every mile they marched with 
 deeds that would have caused widows to raise the 
 funeral song from Champlain to the Ohio, but our 
 arms are held fast." 
 
 "You did not tell me how you came by this 
 ring?" faltered Maggie, as she shyly tried it on her 
 fingers. 
 
 "I asked him for a token, and he gave me that." 
 
 "A token for whom, Hemlock?" 
 
 "For you." 
 
 "For me!" gasped Maggie, with beaming eyes, 
 while her color came and went. 
 
 Hemlock nodded and said no more. Turning 
 her head aw^ay from him, Maggie pressed the token 
 to her lips. On the Indian's rising to go, she en- 
 
122 
 
 cn.KAN'EK TAF.KS. 
 
 tivatcnl liiiii to stay. Hlt hrotlnTs were at tlit- 
 camp, Imt her fatlwr was only at tlic rear end of 
 the; lot stookiiiL;' coi-n, and Ik- nii^dit t^o and scf 
 him. llcmlof'k, wlio liad the? dislike of his race to 
 manual lahor, said lu? would wait, and eatchin*^^ up 
 the tis]iinL;-rod of hi'i* youn^^ci* hrothn-, prcpaivd 
 it to hc'^iik' th(,' denizens of the I'iver that Howed 
 past the shanty, and continued tishini,^ until the oM 
 man returne(l, who sat down beside Hendock and 
 jL;ot into an en^rossini^ conversation, winch was 
 ended by Mai^f^ie's cailiuf^ them to supper. When 
 the meal was fairly under way, the father said: 
 
 "Hendock wants us to leave. He says the Am- 
 ericans will be here in a day or two. He otters to 
 brin<^ Indians with cnou<^h of canoes U) take you 
 and Majifme to Montreal." 
 
 "Leave my hame for thae Yankees!" exclaimed 
 ^Irs Forsyth; "no a step will I gang oo' o' my way 
 for the deils." 
 
 "Hendock says they may burn down the house 
 and insult y(ni, an' ye wad be better oot o' their 
 way." 
 
 "I wad like to see the Yankee loon that wad try 
 to set a low to oor bit bio-nrin; I wad din^j sonic 
 dacency into his heid." 
 
 "Think o' Ma^^n^ie, fjuid wife." 
 
 Before her mother couM speak, Maggie declared 
 "she wasna fear't an' wad bide wi' her mither, 
 thankin' Hemlock a' the same." 
 
 "You see, Hemlock, hoo wi* Scotch bodies stick 
 
II KM LOCK. 
 
 \'Zli 
 
 l,v (»ur luiiiu's. Down to tlic woinni and loilnis, 
 we will t'cclit to th«' hist ^Hsp to Iwunl tliciii. " 
 
 Hrinloc'k sjiid j'otliiiiL,'' and Im'IjxmI liiinsrlt" to an- 
 other pit'co of johnny-cake. 'I'lie suhji'ct, however, 
 liAfl excited Mr.s Forsytli.wlio niin<^led demniciations 
 of the invaders with re;^n'ets at ieavini;- Scotland. 
 
 "Touts, woman, C.^mada is a l)etti'r country for 
 the |)iiir man than Scotlan." 
 
 "I am no denyin' that, hut eh, tliere was a couthie 
 security then; that's no here, an' for a sielit o' its 
 lioiinie howes an' ^lens I'd ^ie onythinj^^ 'I'he first 
 ail' the last siclit each day fi'ae my faither's door 
 was the Pentlands, an' no trees, trees, wi' snaw an' 
 ici' liniif the year." 
 
 'Ye wadna i^ae Ijack, mitlier, for a' tliat." 
 
 "Deed wouhl I, <rin we a' went the i^'ither." 
 
 "Hut yo have aften tcll't me ye wa<l never cross 
 the sea again, ye were so sick in cominof." 
 
 "Xa, neither I wad; nae boatie forme." 
 
 "Then, ye canna gang." 
 
 "Hoot, lass, what arc ye sayin'; is that a' ye ken? 
 We could walk roun'." 
 
 "Providence, dear wife, has cast oor lot here an' 
 its oor duty to he content. l*lease (lod, we will 
 lu'lp to mak o' Canada a country oor children will 
 iic proud ()', an as for thao Yankees, wha come to 
 I'oh us o' oor liberty, I am sure their conceit will 
 It'ad to their fa' an' that their designs upon us will 
 Come to naethinff." 
 
 Hemlock rose and prepared to leave. "I will go 
 
. / 
 
 124 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ¥ 
 
 with you," said Forsyth, "and hear what is the 
 news in the camp." 
 
 Getting into the canoe they arrived at the forks 
 in due time, and found great activity in erecting 
 buildings, while carts were arriving every few min- 
 utes from the Basin with supplies or leaving empty 
 to reload. In every direction were soldiers en- 
 camped, and the evening being cold their fires 
 crackled and blazed along the lines. The soldiers 
 were of all kinds, from habitants in homespun 
 blouses and blue tuques to regulars of the line. 
 The noisiest were the volunteer regiments, com- 
 posed of young men, lumbermen and city trades- 
 men,whose exuberant animal spirits the discomforts 
 and privations of camp failed to tame, and where 
 they were, screams, laughter, and singing resound- 
 ed. Hemlock led the way to a large, white house, 
 the home of an American settler, named Baker, 
 but taken possession of for. headquarters, and pass- 
 ing the guard as a privileged character, told the 
 orderly he wanted to see the General. On enquiry, 
 the two visitors were admitted into a good-sized 
 room, in the centre of which was a large table, at 
 which sat a thick-set officer of foreign aspect, Gen. 
 ti'^Watteville, his secretary, and Major Henry, who 
 had succeeded Stovin as local commander. They 
 were evidently engaged in examining ; ^gimentnl 
 loports. 
 
 "Hemlock, so you have got back? What news 
 from the lines?" asked the Major. 
 

 HEMLOCK. 
 
 125 
 
 ''Yankees will break camp tomorrow." 
 
 "'How do you know? Have you any despatches 
 from our spies?" 
 
 "No, but I saw a waggon loaded with axes arrive 
 at Fort Hickory." 
 
 "Well, what about that?" 
 
 "The advance camp, nearest to here, is called Fort 
 Hickory: the axes are to chop a road from there to 
 our outposts on the Cbateaugay." 
 
 DeWatteville became all attention. "How lono- 
 would the road be?" 
 
 "Three leagues," answered Hemlock. 
 
 "Pooh," remarked the General, relapsing into in- 
 difference, "they cannot cut a road that long through 
 the woods." 
 
 "You don't know Yankee axemen," said Hemlock, 
 "they will do it in a day and turn your flank." 
 
 The General simply waved his hand contemptu- 
 ously. Major Henry, knowing from past acquaint- 
 ance. Hemlock's worth and intelligence, asked in a 
 respectful tone, "What do you advise?" 
 
 "Send me with all the Indians and we will cut 
 them off." 
 
 DeWatteville could not withhold a gesture of 
 horror. " You would fall upon these axemen, you 
 say are coming, butcher them with your hatchets 
 and scalp them. Eh ?" 
 
 "Every one of them," answeu a Hemlock in an 
 exultant voice. 
 
 "Faugh, that is not war; that is murder," said 
 
126 
 
 rj LEANER TALES. 
 
 the General, "we will fight the Americans in no 
 such way." 
 
 "It is how they would deal with you," said Horn- 
 lock, "but if you do not want the Indian to tight 
 in the way of his fathers, he will leave you." 
 
 Henry here leant over and whispered into the 
 General's ear; who answered aloud, "Xo, I will not 
 liear of it: I will fight as a soldier and will haw 
 no savagery." The Major was evidently discon- 
 certed, and changed the subject by asking Hemlock 
 what led him so far from the lines as to visit 
 Fort Hickory. 
 
 "I followed Morton." 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed the General, "poor fellow, what 
 of him?" 
 
 "They were going to hang him, when Colonel 
 Vanderherg took him from Four Corners." 
 
 "You see. General," said Major Henry with a 
 smile, "the savagery of the invader against whom 
 you would not use the services of Hemlock and 
 Ins braves in self-defence." 
 
 The General twirled his heavy grey mustache 
 and bit it nervously. "If they hang him, I will 
 let every redskin in the country loose upon Dieni." 
 
 "It would serve Morton better to do so before 
 the rope does its work," suggested the Major. "Oiu" 
 remonstrances addressed to Cieneral Hampton have 
 been met with combined e(|uivocation and insolence. 
 'Give up,' he says, 'the murderer of Major 8k)cuiii 
 and I will set Morton at liberty.* As much as to 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 127 
 
 say we screen the murderer — a man I know nothini^ 
 of and for whose deed His Majesty's service is not 
 accountable." 
 
 Hemlock said, "Read that again?" 
 
 Taking up General Hampton's despatch in an- 
 swer to that regarding Morton's treatment, the 
 Major read it in full. The Indian listened intently 
 and made no comment, but Forsyth said (juietly, he 
 was sure Mr Morton had no hand in nuirdering 
 anybody. 
 
 "We all know that," answered Major Henry, "a 
 more humane and yet a more gallant officer the 
 King has not got. And now, Forsyth, what are 
 vou and the settlers croinp^ to do when the Ameri- 
 cans cross the frontier?" 
 
 "Ye'U excuse me for saying so, but that is a silly 
 (luestion to ask o' men wha hae gien their sons to 
 serve as sogers . nd placed their horses, and a' their 
 1 tarns and cellars contain at your service." 
 
 "You don't understand me. I mean do you in- 
 tend staying in your houses should the enemy 
 come, or will vcu seek safety in Montreal?" 
 
 "It wad be hard to gie up to the destroj'er all we 
 hae and that we hae gaithered wi' sic pains in years 
 gane by. My ain mind is, and my neebors agree, 
 that we will stand by our property an' tak chances." 
 
 "It is the resolve of brave men," remarked the 
 General, "but it may be in the interest of the cam- 
 paign to waste the country and leave neither sup- 
 plies nor shelter for the enemy." 
 
128 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Gin sic should prove the case," answered the 
 farmer, "there's no an Auld Countryman on the 
 river that wadna pit the tire to his biggin wi' his 
 ain hand. Gear is guid, but independence is sweet." 
 
 "I hope you will not be asked to make such a 
 sacrifice," said the Major, "we have reports here of 
 reinforcements on the way that, if they arrive in 
 time, will enable us to meet the enemy." 
 
 The General here intimated to them to retire. 
 Hemlock started as if from a reverie. Going close 
 to the General, he stretched out his right hand 
 after the manner of Indian orators. "You meet 
 the Yankees as soldier meets soldier. The red 
 man meets them as the robbers of his lands, the 
 destroyers of his villages, the slayers of his race. 
 The land was ours, and they have driven us to the 
 setting sun and left us not even standing-room for 
 our lodges. You have called us savages. Who 
 made us savages? The Indian forgets no kindness 
 and forgives no wrong. The hand that has de- 
 spoiled and struck at us, we will seek late and 
 early, in light and dark, to smite. Our enemy for 
 generations, the enemy we are always at war with, 
 is your enemy today. You may make peace with 
 him tomorrow. We never will. W^hen the Indian 
 dies, he gives his hatchet to his sons. We offer 
 you our help. Tell me to go and do what I will, 
 and the Americans will not drink of the St Law- 
 rence. Ten score Iroquois will keep up the war- 
 whoop along the frontier until they turn." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 129 
 
 The General seemed annoyed and said sharply, 
 " We take you as scouts, not as comrades-in-arms. 
 I will have no barbarian warfare." 
 
 Hemlock drew himself up with dignity as he 
 said: "We are your allies, not your hirelings. Our 
 tribes declared war against the Americans before 
 you did, and if you will not accept our aid we with- 
 draw this night from your camp and shall fight on 
 our own hand." 
 
 Major Henry perceived the mistake made by the 
 General and hastened to undo it. "King George," 
 he said, "is true to the treaty made with his Indian 
 allies and 1 am sure you will stand by it too. The 
 General is preparing his plans for receiving the 
 Americans and the Indians will have their place 
 in it. 
 
 Without apparently heeding these words, Hem- 
 lock approached close to the General. "I warn 
 you," he said, "if you reject our aid, great soldier 
 as you may be across the sea, in the warfare of 
 these woods your light will go out like this," and 
 with a wave of his hand he put out the light of 
 one of the two candles on the table. Turning on 
 his heel, he walked with stately stride out of the 
 room. That night he and his band left the camp 
 and ceased to receive orders from headquarters. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Well, Morton,, our days of inglorious idleness 
 are ended," exclaimed Col. Vanderberg. "I return 
 from headquarters with orders for an immediate 
 advance." 
 
 "Thank heavens!" ejaculated Morton. 
 
 "What! Do you rejoice at an attack on your 
 country? Come, my good friend, I see your judg- 
 ment is overcoming your feelings, and you are 
 going to cast in your lot with us — the latest con- 
 vert from monarchism to republicanism." 
 
 "No, no: you need not banter me. What I re- 
 joice at is the ending of a policy of inaction that 
 has kept you, my friend, and your humble prisoner 
 alike in wearisome suspense." 
 
 "It is ended: the die is cast, whatever the result 
 may be. After dinner squads of men begin to chop 
 out a road from Smith's, and tomorrow Izard comes 
 with reinforcements and under him we bear the 
 banner of the United States into Canada." 
 
 "And what do you propose doing with me when 
 you advance?" asked Morton. 
 
 "Hum! To leave you behind means your being 
 returned to Four Corners, with a chance of meeting 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 131 
 
 the fate you twice escaped. It is against all mili- 
 tary rule, but you must go with us. I will not 
 risk you in the hands of these legal Sons of Mars 
 — Spooner et al." 
 
 "Thank you, Colonel; again you have placed me 
 under an obligation I can never repay." 
 
 "I hope not," answered the Colonel with a smile,. 
 "I'd rather not be His Majesty's prisoner even with 
 Lieutenant Morton as my custodian." 
 
 "No, never; I wish to pay my debt of gratitude 
 ill no such way." 
 
 "Say no more, Morton, on that score. The hap- 
 piest days I have spent this summer have been 
 since I made your acquaintance. If I did you a> 
 good turn, I have had compensation. And now to 
 work: there comes a waggon creaking under its 
 load of chopping axes." 
 
 The conversation took place at an outpost of 
 Hampton's army, close upon the frontier, styled 
 Douglas camp in official documents but known 
 familiarly among the soldiers as Fort Hickory, 
 from the character of the trees that prevailed at 
 this spot. Colonel Vanderber^, instead of placing 
 Morton in custody as he half anticipated, when he 
 "lismounted after his ride from Four Corners, took 
 liim into the house where he was quartered, and 
 told him in few words he was again on parole and 
 Ms guest. Without further allusion to the humili- 
 ■iting and perilous position from which he had 
 snatched him, Col.Vanderberg made him his friend 
 
182 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 and associate aiul each passing day strengthened tlic 
 bond between them. Each had experiences of in- 
 terest to the other. The Colonel had tales of peril 
 on the Pennsylvania and Ohio frontiers In proteet- 
 injj the settlements from Indian attacks, and Mor- 
 ton, in return, gratified his curiosity as to the 
 organization and character of the British army 
 and Enjjlish life and habits. 
 
 The following morning they had breakfast by 
 candle-light, and on going out, found the camp in 
 a flurry of preparation, troopers ready to mount, 
 engineers with their tools over their shoulders, and 
 a large scjuad of brawny fellows in flannel shirts 
 with axe in hand, drafted from the various corps 
 and hired from among the surrounding farmers to 
 clear a road to the Chateaugay. All w^as life, 
 bustle, and confusion. Jumping on horseback, tho 
 Colonel speedily got each man into his place, and 
 by the time this was efTected, the drum-taps, by 
 which they kept step, of Izard's column were heard, 
 and that officer gave the word to advance. Prt- 
 ceded by a squad of scouts and sharp-shooters to 
 cover them, the engineers and axemen moved on, 
 then a body of infantry, followed by the troopers, 
 a few commissariat wagons bringing up the rear, 
 The Colonel and Morton were with the troopers, 
 As the long and picturesque cavalcade scrambled 
 over the brow of a hill, the sun had gained the as- 
 cendency, and the frost that had whitened every- 
 thing now sparkled on every stem and leaf as it 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 1.S3 
 
 iiu'lted in the sunbeams. The atmosphere wa. !ear 
 and crisp, and the very odor that rose from th(« 
 fallen leaves added to its exhilaratinfj (lualit}*. 
 When the summit of the ascent was reached, the 
 (loclivity was abrupt enough to afibrd a lookout 
 over the tree-tops, and Canada lay outstretched a 
 vast plain at their feet. Far in the distance, could 
 be seen a gleaming line, like a rapier flung across 
 a brown cloak. It was the St Lawrence. The 
 Colonel drew his horse to one side of tlie road, to 
 permit the troops to pass, while he scanned the in- 
 spiring scene. 
 
 "All looks peaceful," he sai<l to Morton, "no sign 
 that under the cover of these woods an ent-my 
 awaits us." 
 
 "It is a grand view of a noble country," i-eplied 
 Morton, "and you may r<dy on it, there are men 
 awaiting you who will shed the last drop of their 
 blood in its defence." 
 
 The Colonel, drawing his bri/lle, joine<l in the 
 march and the glimpse of Canada was lost under 
 overhanging vistas of trees. "Do you know, Mor- 
 ton," he said, "it seems strange to me that our 
 armies should meet resistance from the Canadians. 
 We speak the same language; we are of tlie same 
 stock. Why should they fight to the death against 
 uniting with us as equal partners in a free govern- 
 ment?" 
 
 "You forget, Colonel, that speech and origin are 
 not the strongest elements in national sentiment. 
 
]34 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 i 
 
 |l 
 
 You meet a woman with a big man supporting her 
 and bearing liimselt* as if he were proud of lier, 
 and you wonder at it, and say the rnan could find 
 plenty whose faces are pleasanter to look upon 
 and which indicate i lore intelligence. The man 
 will admit all that, but he tells you the woman ia 
 liis mother, and to him she is better and more 
 beautiful than all the women in the world beside. 
 In the same way, the British government may be 
 inferior in some points to your new Republic, may 
 liave made mistakes in the past, and might be 
 better in some regards, but then she is the mother 
 of the Canadians, and they will not desert her for 
 bouncing Miss Columbia." 
 
 "That won't do, Morton; you forget that the 
 British g vernment was once, as you term it, our 
 mother also." 
 
 "I did not forget that, and I hope I will not 
 offend you, Colonel, by saying that for that very 
 cause the Canadians dislike Americans. You turn- 
 ed upon your mother, you strove to compass her 
 humiliation ; the very base of your patriotic feeling 
 is hatred of her." 
 
 " That is putting it strong, Morton." 
 
 "I think not; the preamble of your declaration 
 of independence is a tirade of gratuitous charges 
 against Great Britain." 
 
 "Then you think Canada will never unite with 
 the Republic?" 
 
 "I certainly think so, and those w^ho live to see 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 135 
 
 it, will find two great English-speaking commtini- 
 ties on this continent, with this radical difference 
 between them, that one reviles and seeks to injure 
 the mother-land from which they sprung and the 
 other succors and honors her." 
 
 A commotion in front stopped the conversation 
 and two scouts were seen dragging an old man be- 
 tween them towards the Colonel. 
 
 "What's this?" he asked sharply. 
 
 "We have taken a prisoner!" r.ied one of the men 
 in an exulting voice. 
 
 "The divil take you," interrupted the old man 
 with contentious manner. "Yees had no business 
 wid me." 
 
 "We found him hidinof behind some brush watch- 
 ing our men. He is a spy," said the scout. 
 
 "Behind some brush! An* whose brush was it? 
 Me own, bedad." 
 
 "You had no business there." 
 
 "Xo business to be on my own farrum ! Bad scran 
 to ye, if I had yees in Wixf ord I'd get the constable 
 to arrist every man o' yees for trispass." 
 
 "Come, hold your tongue," said a scout roughly. 
 
 "Hould yer own whisht. Ye havn't m« nded yer 
 manners since I saw yer backs at Brandywine." 
 
 Col.Vanderberg smiled as he said to the scouts, 
 "I am afraid you have been too hasty. We are 
 now in Canada and must not molest its inhabitants. 
 The old man is a non-combatant, and, as he declares, 
 was on his own farm when taken." 
 
 
13G 
 
 c; LEAN EH TALES. 
 
 "If you liad sten liiin kick and scratch and wri^^. 
 glc when we put hands upon liini, you wouldn't say 
 ho was a non-combatant, Colonel. lie swore at tht; 
 United States and said he kept one of our flags t'ur 
 his pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 "Tut, tut," exclaimed the Colonel, "we liave not 
 come to fight old men; let him go." 
 
 "Ye'd bctther," remarked the old man with a m-'m, 
 "or I'll make ye sorry." 
 
 "Now, what could you do?" asked the Colonel with 
 an amused smile. 
 
 The old man sidled up beside the bridle of the 
 Colonel's horse, and in a tone of mock solemnity, 
 while his eyes sparkled with fun, whispered, "I'd 
 put the curse of Cramwell an ye." 
 
 "Say, friend," said Morton, "there is something; 
 about you that tells me you are an old soldier. 
 Were you ever in the army?" 
 
 " Yis, but not in yer riffraff that ye's call an army." 
 
 "You are mistaken in me," replied Morton, and 
 drawing aside his cloak showed the scarlet coat of 
 the British service. 
 
 "An' how did ye fall in wid dem rebels? A pri- 
 soner are ye, God save us ! You'll be Leftenant 
 Morton that was to be hanged, as I heard tell. 
 Well, well, since ye wern't born to be hanged, it is 
 drownded ye may be. Av coorse I was in the army 
 an' got me discharge an' a grant of land from King 
 George, an' may the divil catch a hould o' dem that 
 don't wish him well." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 137 
 
 "Arc all your neigliliors of the same mind ?" ask- 
 eil the Cok)nel. 
 
 "They are that same. Come will me to my shanty 
 an' while I sincl for 'im, you will have an illij^ant 
 ilinner of praties an' milk. There is not wan on 
 the frontier that does not say with Capt. Barrv)n, 
 God hless the Kin^ an' canfound his inimies.'* 
 
 "Thank you," answered the Colonel, "hut I have 
 other fish to fry today. Tell me this, old man, 
 Wimt difference would it make to you and your 
 neighbors that you should eat your potatoes and 
 milk under the Stars and Stripes instea<l of the 
 Uiiion Jack ?" 
 
 "Sure, that's aisy answered. The differ between 
 atin' in an inimy's house an' aitin' in yer awn." 
 
 "Come, Morton, we lose time. Good - bye, old 
 man," and putting spurs to his liorse the Colonel 
 /alloped to regain his place in the column, followed 
 by Morton. 
 
 By noon the scouts had reached the Chateaugay, 
 which they forded without hesitation and advan- 
 cing on a shanty that stood on the bank, surprised 
 its inmates, a party of Canadian volunteers on out- 
 post duty, while taking an afternoon nap. This 
 capture was of advantage to the Americans, for it 
 delayed by several hours intelligence of their in- 
 vasion being received at the British head(piarters. 
 Shortly afterwards Col. Vanderberg arrived, who, 
 without halting for refreshment, accompanied Gen. 
 Izard down the river some distance, examining the 
 
fli 
 
 138 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 country. On returning, men were set to work to 
 prepare a camp for the main army, which he knew 
 was on the march. A thorough soldier, well train- 
 ed in bush fiorhtinfj, the Colonel made his arrange, 
 ments with an acumen and decision that increased 
 Morton's regard for him. Before sunset a line of 
 scouts was established across the valley, a strongly 
 fortified post established, tents pitched, and a mes- 
 senger sent with a despatch to Hampton informing; 
 him all was ready. Not until then, did the Colonel 
 divest himself of his long-boots and draw up beside 
 the log-fire of the shanty of one Spears to discuss 
 the fare his servant had provided. 
 
 V I 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ''I 
 
 4 
 
 Hi 
 
 On the morning after the events narrated in pre- 
 ceding chapter, General Hampton left his quarters 
 at Four Corners for the new camp. Escorted by 
 20 cavalrymen, he and his staff rode rapidly over 
 the newly-cut road, and by noon reached the Cha- 
 teaugay. Halting on the bluff that overlooks the 
 junction of the Outard with that river, and whence 
 he had full view of the camp in busy preparation 
 on the other side of the river, he awaited the ar- 
 rival of his tents. A stout man and well-advanced 
 in years, the exertion of the journey had fatigued 
 him, and he sat, or rather reclined, on a log in front 
 of a blazing fire, for the day was chilly, and group- 
 ed around him were the officers of his staff At 
 the foot of the bank and in the near distance, were 
 the troopers tending their horses and the officers* 
 servants preparing dinner. 
 
 From his elevated position, the General had a 
 full view of the opposite bank and he watched with 
 complacency the arrival at the new camp, with flut- 
 ter of flag and tuck of drum, of frequent detach- 
 ments. 
 
 "Everything bodes favorably for our enterprise," 
 
140 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 
 he remarked, "the despatches that awaited me tell 
 of unprecedented success. At every point attempt- 
 ed our battalions have entered the enemy's terri- 
 tory unopposed and advanced unmolested. The 
 Rubicon has been crossed and terror-stricken the 
 foe flies before us. This afternoon a special mes- 
 senger shall bear to Albany, New York and Wash- 
 ington the tidings of our triumphant progress — of 
 our undisputed taking possession of this country 
 to which the British authorities make a pretended 
 claim." 
 
 "Your despatch will cause great rejoicing," said 
 an officer. 
 
 "Yes, it will be hailed with loud acclaim, and my 
 enemies who clamored against me, will now per- 
 ceive that what they stigmatized as inaction was 
 the profoundest strategy. Sixteen miles have we 
 marched into the enemy's territory and not a hos- 
 tile bayonet has been seen. Ha, who is this? Draw 
 your swords." 
 
 All eyes turned in the direction of the Generals, 
 and a tall Indian was seen standing immovably be- 
 side a giant pine. It was Hemlock. As he remain- 
 ed motionless with folded arms, and was apparently 
 unarmed, the officers got over their alarm, and those 
 who had laid their hands upon their swords, drop- 
 ped them. 
 
 "Sirrah, what do you here? How passed you our 
 guards ?" shouted the (General. 
 
 "I have come to speak with you. You are ten 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 141 
 
 to one; your escort is within hail of you, will you 
 listen to me?" 
 
 "Go on," said Hampton. 
 
 "You have a British officer held as prisoner. 
 You wrote to Major Stovin that you would set him 
 free if the Indian who killed Slocum were given in 
 exchange. Do you stand by that offer?" 
 
 "Morton goes free when the Indian is sent in." 
 
 "Give me an order for his release; the Indian 
 goes to your camp at once." 
 
 "That will not do, Mr Redskin. The exchange 
 must be effected through the British commander. 
 Lot him send an accredited officer with a flag of 
 truce and we will treat w^ith him." 
 
 "Before that can be done, Morton may be dead. 
 If you get the Indian what care you for else? The 
 Indian who killed Slocum passes into your hands 
 the moment Morton is given liberty." 
 
 "This is altogether irregular," remarked an officer, 
 "General Hampton cannot deal with an irrespon- 
 sible redskin, who, for all he knows, has come here 
 on some scheme of deviltry. See here, was it you 
 that murdered Slocum?" 
 
 "I never murdered any man," answered Hemlock 
 proudly, "but I have killed many in war. Had you 
 the Indian who slew him,what would you do to him?" 
 
 " Well, I guess, if the General let us have our way, 
 we would hand him to the men of Slocum's old 
 regiment and they'd make him wish he had never 
 beeii born." 
 
142 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "The Indian might have had good cause for dcaj- 
 in^r with Slocum as he did?" 
 
 "No, you red devil, he could have no cause. He 
 carved him up out of pure deviltry." 
 
 "You are tired, General," said Hemlock, with a 
 courteous wave of the hand, "and while you rest, 
 will you listen to me, for I have heard that Indian's 
 story? In the Mohawk valley lived an English 
 family when you Americans rose against King 
 George. A neighbor, who had come from Massa- 
 chusetts, envied their farm, and, on the Englishman 
 refusing to forswear his allegiance, had it confis- 
 cated and took possession. The Englishman had 
 to fly and went through the woods, many days' 
 journey to Canada, guided by a band of loyal 
 Oneidas. When they reached Canada, a young 
 warrior of that band stayed with them and helped 
 them to find food in the w^ilderness until crops 
 grew. That Indian gave up his tribe, and lived 
 with them and a daughter came to love him, and 
 they were married and w^ere happy many years, 
 until the mist rose from the lake and she sick- 
 ened and died. The Indian so loved her that he 
 would have killed himself to follow her to the 
 spirit land, had she not left a daughter, who was 
 his joy and life. When she grew up, the Indian 
 said, She shall be the equal of the best, and he 
 took her to Albany to be taught all ladies learn. 
 A young man saw her, met her, learned of the In- 
 dian blood in her veins, and doomed her as his 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 143 
 
 spoil. He was aided by a companion in deceiving 
 her by a false marriage, she lived with him for a 
 while, was cast off, and her deceiver married the 
 governor's daughter. The Indian had gone on a 
 far journey; he went to seek for furs in the West 
 to get money for his daughter. In two years he 
 came to Montreal with many canoe-loads, he sold 
 them, he went to Albany, and found his child dying 
 of a broken heart. He took her away with him, 
 he nursed her by the Ottawa — he buried her there. 
 He went back to Albany, and was told the law 
 could not punish Slocum or his friend, who had 
 gone away. Then he sought Slocum and twenty 
 times he could have killed him, but he would not. 
 In his heart he said, Slocum must die not by the 
 knife or bullet, but by torture, and the chance 
 came not until a moon ago, when he met Slocum 
 face to face in the Chateaugay woods about to stab 
 Morton. The Indian took Slocum, and for hours 
 he made him feel part of the pain he had caused 
 liim and his child — only a part, for you who are 
 fathers can guess what that Indian and his daugh- 
 ter suffered. Was that Indian to blame? Did he 
 <lo more to him than he deserved ? Will you give 
 the father over to Slocum's soldiers to be abused 
 and killed ?" 
 
 "A good ys n," remarked an officer, "and a true 
 one, for I lived at Albany then and saw the girl ; 
 pretty as a picture and simple as a baby. If Major 
 Slocum had not got his hand in first, some other 
 
144 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I 
 
 follow would and she would have been made a fool 
 of anyway." 
 
 "We will have nigger fathers running after us 
 next," sneered another officer. 
 
 "Did you know Slocum?" asked Hemlock of the 
 first who had spoken, with a quaver in his voice he 
 could not control. 
 
 "Guess I did. Slocum and Spooner were chums 
 
 in those days, and by , I believe you are the 
 
 father of the young squaw you make such a bother 
 about. Won't we hold him, General?" So saying 
 he rose, as if waiting his assent to seize Hemlock. 
 Before he could take a second step. Hemlock, with 
 a quick motion, snatched his tomahawk, which he 
 had concealed in his bosom, threw it, and leapt 
 into the bush, where he was lost to sight in a mo- 
 ment. The officer, without uttering a word, fell on 
 his back ; the head of the tomahawk buried in his 
 forehead. Stunned by the event, the officers lost 
 a few minutes in giving the alarm. When search 
 was made, it was in vain; Hemlock had not left a 
 
 trace behind him. 
 
 « « « « » 
 
 The evening set in dismal and rainy, with a raw 
 east wind that made the soldiers seek every avail- 
 able shelter. In the Forsyth household there was 
 the alarm natural to the knowledge that the in- 
 vaders were within a sho/t distance, but the daily 
 routine of duty was not interrupted and everything 
 had gone on as usual. All had retired to rest ex- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 Uo 
 
 c»'pt Maggie, who sat before the tire ^u i Id ing castles 
 in the flickering flauies and dying embers. While 
 so engaged, the door, never fastened, opened softly, 
 and Hemlock stepped in. Regardless of his sodden 
 (garments, he crouched beside the girl, without 
 uttering a word. **Do you bring news of the com- 
 ing of the enemy?" she whispered. 
 "No: they are shivering in their tents." 
 "It is a cruel night to be out of doors." 
 The Indian nodded assent, and relapsed into 
 silence. "Maggie," he said suddenly, "I may have 
 to leave Morton to your care." 
 "Dear me, Hemlock, what can I do?" 
 "I have done everything," he went on to say, 
 "that I could. I gave him a chance to escape from 
 his prison and today I offered Hampton to surren- 
 der the Indian they want in exchange for him and 
 he refused. He will treat with the British General 
 alone." 
 
 "That is surely easy, Hemlock. When the Yan- 
 kees say they will give up Mr Morton for the Indian 
 they blame for murdering their officer, our General 
 will be glad to give up the Indian, provided he can 
 he got." 
 
 "No: our General refuses, saying it would be an 
 unheard of thing for the British to give up an ally 
 for an act of warfare, and he will not listen to the 
 Yankee demand." 
 
 "May be he says that because he cannot get the 
 Indian," suo:gested Maggie. 
 
 OO' 
 
 11 
 
14G 
 
 CiLEAXER TALES. 
 
 il 
 
 It > 
 
 "I airi the Indian," said Hemlock curtly, "and I 
 asked him to bind me and send me to the Ameri- 
 can camp with a fiajj^ of truce, and all he said was, 
 'He would sooner liear of Morton bein<^ hung than 
 ho guilty of such treachery to a faithful ally.'" 
 
 "My, Hendock ! What made you he. so cruel;" 
 That you have a feeling heart I know, for I have 
 sGcn you cry over your daughter's " 
 
 With a (juick gesture Hemlock stopped her. 
 
 "Speak no more of that. It was because of my 
 love for my child that I tortured the wretch to 
 death." Here he paused, his features workini,^ 
 with emotions that cast them into frightful con- 
 tortions. "Oh, Maggie, I thought if I could have 
 my revenge I'd be happy. I had my heart's wish 
 on the spoiler of my child and today I brained the 
 villain that helped him, and I am more miserable 
 than ever. My vengeance has done me no gofxl. 
 My child, my daughter, oh come to me! ' 
 
 The heart of Maggie melted with sympathy. 
 She rose and resting one hand on his shoulder 
 sought his with the other. "Take it not," he said 
 in a whisper, "it is the hand of blood." 
 
 "Hemlock, I dinna judge you as I would ane o' 
 oor ain folk, for the nature born with you is no 
 like oors, let alane your upbringing, but I ken you 
 to be an honest, and wronged man, with a kindly 
 heart, and I would share your sorrow that I may 
 lichten it." 
 
 The Indian was evidently touched. Grasping her 
 
 hum 
 Afte 
 
 :/ivc 
 
 vour 
 
 "I 
 
 I''urii( 
 
 duuM 
 
 and i\ 
 
 iijfin'si 
 
 "Lei 
 
 "To( 
 
 "Bui 
 
 iiiuny 3 
 
 "liVu 
 
 II le so 
 
 ll'lVO CO 
 
 J"V'e hill 
 
 100 
 
 tfrinc 
 
 Hiisliod 
 
 "Ik 
 
 ^1*-' loves 
 
 ^ know 
 
 '"•^ guar 
 
 ^'"n awa 
 
 ^""s track 
 
 y>n to gi 
 
 "This i 
 
 "Listei 
 
 ^'i'li and 
 
 m 
 
HLML()( K. 
 
 U7 
 
 liand 1h3 iMTit over it and pross«.'<l it to his lips. 
 After a lon^ pause, Mai;oit' a<l(U:<l: "If you would 
 "ive up vour iR'athen wavs ami turu to the Lord, 
 vour path would Ijecoine clear." 
 
 "I once followed the Lord," sai<l H«'udock, "I 
 Itanicd of Him fmni my wife, and I taught my 
 dautrhter to love Jesus, hut when the cloud cauie 
 and its<larkness Minded me, I put away the whi^e 
 iiian's(fod and went hack to the ways of my fatht.-rs.'^ 
 
 "Leave them a<'ainj'" entreated Mao'i^ie. 
 
 "Too late: I <lie as I am." 
 
 "But you are no j^'oing to die. Hemlock. You've 
 many years to live." 
 
 "I die before the new moon comes; my oki toM 
 me so in a dream last niMit, and that is why I 
 liave come to talk with vou about Morton. Vuu 
 
 luve 
 
 him 
 
 Too honest to utter the "no" that came to her fal- 
 tering tongue, Maggie's liea<l <lrooped and her face 
 tluslK'd. 
 
 "I know you do," Hemlock went on, "and I know 
 Ik' loves you, tho' his heart has not told his head yet. 
 1 know not where he is; if I did, we would attack 
 liis guard and rescue him this night. They took 
 liiin away from P\)rt Hickory and I have not got 
 liis track yet. When they iind where he is I want 
 you to give orders to my men when I am gone. ' 
 
 "This is beyond me, Hemlock." 
 
 "Listen: I have told my Indians they must sjtve 
 liiia and to obey you." 
 
us 
 
 (JLKANEK TAr.KS. 
 
 "'P»H in}' hi'othors or my father.' 
 
 "TIm' rndian:-; would not oljey tht'iii : they l>eliev(' 
 wliat I told them, that I have given you my medi- 
 ciiH'. If Morton is not saved this week, he dies." 
 
 " Ii our men heat the Yankees will they not rescue 
 hinj ■' 
 
 "Yankees would shoot him before they would Irt 
 him escape, and they will hang liim if they retreat. 
 They have let him live hoping to got me; when 
 they know tlu^}' cannot, they will kill liim." 
 
 Maggie shuddered. "And what am I to do?" 
 
 Hemlock answered: "The Indian has a good 
 liand but a poor hea<l. When they come and tell 
 you they have found where Morton is kept, you 
 will order them wdien and how to make the attack 
 an<l into the messenger's hand you will press this 
 medicine, and tell him it will make success sure." 
 Here he took a pouch from his breast and select- 
 ed a small package — .something sewed up in a hit 
 of bird's skin. 
 
 "I hope you will live to save your friend your- 
 self, ' said Maggie. 
 
 Hemlock gloomily .shook his head, and rising 
 walked towards the door, which he opened and 
 stepped out into the cheerless night. Maggie fol- 
 lowed and looked out. She could see nothinor: ht' 
 was gone. That night she rested all the more com- 
 fortably, from knowing that within hail was a 
 faithful band of Indians. 
 
CHAITKK Xli. 
 
 TV. 
 
 Two (lays later Hemlock was one of a i,noup 
 standing on the north bank of the river, when.' it 
 lii-oke into a short rapid, named from the settler 
 whose shanty overlooked it, Moirison's rapid. The 
 j;TOup included representatives of the ditierent corps 
 that had heen gathei'ed together, witlv several set- 
 tlers. They were watching, in the fading twilight, 
 a thin line of moving red, emerging from the bush. 
 It was a battalion of the Canadian Fencibles that 
 had come from Kinjxston to reinforce deWatteville. 
 The newcomers were soon among them, brawny 
 Highlanders from Glengarry, French Canadian lum- 
 bermen, and a number of farmers from the English 
 settlements in the east. They were greeted with 
 the earnestness men in peril welcome help, and as- 
 sistance was given in preparing such food as was 
 available, while many sought rest after their ex- 
 hausting journey in the outl)uildings of Morrison 
 ind in the sheds that had been prepared for them. 
 Their commander. Col. Macdonell, a thin, wiry man, 
 with a fair complexion that gave him the name 
 of Macdonell the Red, having seen his men disposed 
 uf, moved to the house. At the doc Morrison* 
 
 
150 
 
 rtl.KANKK TALKS. 
 
 Ijiinx'U' a flii;lil>in<l('r, hadr his i^^ucst wt'lcoiiic in 
 the ])incst of Ar<4}'llsliir(' (Jju-lic, an<l pnxhiccMl lii> 
 ))()ttl<'. At't(jr tli(! ^lass Iwul J)}is.sl'(1 i-ound, Mac- 
 (loiu'll said, "\V(j have come far to have a tilt witli 
 the ^'aMk('('s: will we be sure to meet them:'" 
 
 "'{'hat you will," answered Moriis«)n, "they arc 
 Avithin four miles of you and will ])ay us a visit, 
 mayhe, the morn." 
 
 "Ha! ^rhat news does me more <y(H){\ than your 
 dram. When thei-e is H<ditinii' to he done, a Hifdi- 
 landman's Mood I'uns faster, (let us some supper 
 ready, an«l while we wait I'll Hud out what has 
 hcen done. Is there none of the CJeneral's statf 
 licre?" 
 
 "Not an officer: they are all luisy at the makiiii;' 
 of Itarricade.s; but liere is an Indian with a longt i- 
 Jiead than any of them, and wlio can speak <jjo()<l 
 Knglish, which, liowever, is not to be compared 
 with our mother-lani'uaoe. ' 
 
 Resuming the use of the despised tongue — for he 
 scorned to oive EnoHsli the name of lanijuaoe — 
 Morrison introduced Hemlock, and drawing liini to 
 a coi-ner of the hearth, Macdonell plied him with 
 (juestions. The Jmlian, using the ramrod of hi> 
 musket, drew a plan v>f the country in the ashes at 
 their feet, explaining how the Americans were en- 
 camped a fe\; miles farther up the liver and that 
 to get to Montreal they nuist go down the road 
 that followed its lun-th bank. To prevent him. 
 General deWatteville had caused the numerous 
 
HKMI.ocK. 
 
 l.M 
 
 millics nf ciHM'ks wlu'iv they iMiiptiecl into t]w (Mui- 
 t»>in«;»iy, to !)(' proti'ctc)! ]>y ln-custworks of fjilNii 
 trees, hehind which tlie IJritish would contest 
 their a<lvance. Six of these i^ullies hjid heen so 
 |)i*t'p)ire(l. Tn rear of them, was the main line of 
 ilefi'nce, |)lace<l where thr ground was favorahh*, 
 and strengthened l»y hreastworks and two small 
 cannon. 
 
 "Aye, aye!" exclaimed Macdonell, "all very well 
 if the Americans keep to the; road: hut what are 
 we to <lo shcnild they tiy to Hank us:*" 
 
 The In<lian's face dai-kened as he whispered, "i\v 
 Watteville is a <;()od man hut he is an Old World 
 soldier who knows notliinn- jihout laish-tii^htinii. 
 He W()ul<l not helieve uie, when 1 told them there 
 were husli - whackers in the Yankee army who 
 could march to Ids i-ear thi'oui^li the woods." 
 
 "That they could I" a^i'eed the Colonel, "and where 
 would he be then? And wliat f;oo<l would Ins six 
 lines of l>arricades be;* My own lads today canie 
 over liround where reiiulars would have been boo- 
 i^a'd. Then the river can be forded opposite this 
 house. Could tlie Yankees ^et to this ford?" 
 
 Hendock said they cnild, when Macdonell an- 
 swered lie would see to it tliat preparations wei'e 
 made to checkmate such a move. Findini>* Hem- 
 luck acute and thoroughly ac(iuainted with the 
 tield of operations, the Highlan<ler's heart warmed 
 to him as one of like soldierly instincts as his own. 
 Uncontaminated by the prejudice of race conunon 
 
152 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I 
 
 to old residents, lie had no feeling against the red- 
 men, ard when supper v/as ready he insisted on 
 Hemlock's sitting beside him, and in treating him 
 as his equal. As the evening wore on, officers from 
 the neighboring encampments dropped in to ex- 
 change greetings with the new - comers, and an 
 orderly brought instructions from the General. 
 When Hemlock left to join his band in their vigils 
 along the enemy's lines, he felt he had not passed 
 so happy an evening for a dozen of years. 
 
 The night passed quietly and in the morning the 
 enemy showed no disposition to move, so that the 
 preparations for their reception went on, and the 
 troops worked all day, the woods re-echoing the 
 sound of their axes as they felled trees to roll into 
 heaps to form rude breastworks. In the afternoon 
 General de Watteville rode up and carefully in- 
 spected all that had been done, and returned to 
 his quarters satisfied, and altogether unwitting 
 that tiie attack was to be made from another 
 direction in a few hours. 
 
 The day had been cloudy, cheerless, and cold, 
 and as it faded, rain began to fall. The men 
 sought such cover and warmth v ttiey could find 
 and the officers assembled to spend the night in 
 carousing. So raw, dark, and uninviting was it 
 that not one in the British camp supposed the en- 
 emy would be astir. But they were. At sunset, 
 1500 men left the American camp, marched down 
 to the river, forded the rapids, and began their 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 153 
 
 march down the soutli bank with tlie intent of 
 capturing the ford at Morrison's at daylight. 
 
 Next morning, the eventful 2Gth October, 1818, 
 the Forsyths, unsuspicious of what was passing 
 miller the woods around them, were at breakfast, 
 when the door was dashed in and Hendock ap- 
 peared, dripping wet. "I want a messenger to go 
 to Macdonell to tell him the Americans are on 
 their way to him," he shouted. 
 
 "Confound them," exclaimed Forsyth, "I'll gang 
 lit ance." 
 
 "An' leave us twa women bodies oor lane?" com- 
 plained his wife, "No, no, you maun bide, an' pro- 
 tock us." 
 
 Hemlock was disconcerted. "Maggie," he ap- 
 pealed, "won't you go? Take the canoe and you 
 will be at the ford in a few minutes." 
 
 "Yes," she responded, with quiet decision, "and 
 what am I to say?" 
 
 "Tell the Colonel that the Americans in stiength 
 are marching through the woods on this side of 
 the river, intending to surprise him and capture 
 his position. Their advance will be on him in 
 lialf an hour. Say to him, to sen<l over men to 
 meet them and 1 will join w4th mv band. 1 ^o to 
 watch them." Without another word, he left and 
 rushed back into the forest. 
 
 Maggie stepped lightly to where the canoe was 
 moored, loosened the rope, and paddled down the 
 liver with all the strength she had. When it 
 
154 
 
 (i LEANER TALES. 
 
 sti'uck the bank at Morrison's she was glad to stv 
 so many astir and liastened to the door. "You, 
 Maggie, at this early hour/' cried Mrs Morrison 
 "naething wrang 1 hope:*" 
 
 "I must see the Colonel," she said, catching fdr 
 hreath. 
 
 "There he is," said Mrs Morrison, pointing to uii 
 officer engaged in reading a letter by the fire. 
 
 Maggie repeated Hendock's message. Macduikll 
 listened with sparkling e^^es, and when she hml 
 done said, "Thaidv you, my bonnie lass, you haw 
 done the King a service, and when th<^^ Yankees 
 come they will find us ready to gie their lang neli< 
 a smell o' oor claymores." 
 
 Hastening out, he gave his orders in quick suc- 
 cession, and with surpi'ising alacrity for a volunteer 
 force, the men fell in. Two companies were somi 
 complete. "Now, Captain Bruyere, if your men d^ 
 as well as y(ni will yourself all will be well; aii'l 
 for you, Captain Daly, I know by long experiencv 
 what a loyal Irishman is. Hold your ground until 
 I get up to you with the other companies." 
 
 The men (piietly descended the bank and plunge^l 
 into the river, which took them nearly to the middl' 
 for owing to the recent rains it was deep. Gaining 
 the opposite bank, they were swallowed up in th- 
 woods. Gazing over the tree-tops, wliich looker i 
 peaceful in the calm of a dull, moist, autunmal day 
 Macfiiio wondered what was ooino- on beneath their 
 
 'on 
 
 cover — wished she could see the advancino- Amen- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 1; 
 
 1-) 
 
 'S 
 
 ciiiis and tlit3 men wlio had just gone to meet them. 
 TliLTe was an interval of suspense. Tlien, sud- 
 , Lilly, there was a sharp volley and the (|uiet air 
 Ircaine tilled with shouts, and yells, and cries of 
 i'iii,ditened men. All at once there burst from the 
 liush on to the river bank, a good way up, a strint 
 
 if habitants, flying in terror, their blue tu(ju<^ 
 >treaming behind them, and few of them having 
 muskets, for they had thrown them away to aid 
 their Hight. "The cowardly loons," mutt(M-ed Mac- 
 
 loiu'll, "it vyould serve them right to give them a 
 uvste of shot." On reaching the ford, they tumult- 
 iioiisly dashed in. As the foremost came up the 
 iank the Colonel demanded an explanation. They 
 iiiid been surprised by the unexpected appearance 
 
 if a great host of Americans and ran to save them- 
 >t'lves. Attention, howevei', was now attracted from 
 [lie fugitives by the reconnnencement of the tiring, 
 which was sharp and continuous, relieved by the 
 W'lls and whoops of the Indians. 
 
 "Hasten!" shouted Macdonell to the troops who 
 Wfiv lining up, "do you not hear the tiring^ Oui' 
 L'Hiiirades need us." 
 
 The head of the column had ivached the water's 
 • iIliv, when *here was a burst of cheerino-. "'J'hat's 
 "iir lads," said the Colonel, "they must have won 
 the tlav. Halt! We will not seek to share the 
 HL'<lit of their victory." In a few minutes a body 
 
 f tilt' Fencibles reappeared, with several prisoners 
 iuid hearing a few wounded men. Their report 
 
156 
 
 (iI.EANER TALES. 
 
 was that tliey had oncounterod the advance ;^^uaril 
 of the American brigade, which, although elated at 
 the rout of tlie outpost of habitants, fled at tlie tirst 
 fire. The Colonel ordered the men to retire an.l 
 wait behind the breastworks that commanded tin 
 ford. "It is not likely," he remarked to his ail- 
 jutant, "that the Americans will now attack n> 
 seeing their design to surprise us has miscarrinl. 
 Half an hour later, Hendock arrived witli lii^ 
 braves, at whose girdles hung several fresh scalpv 
 He told Macdonell that the Americans had irivtii 
 up their intention of gaining the ford and hm 
 gone into camp nearly two miles above, in a grow 
 beside the river. Seeing how slight was the pros- 
 pect of more fighting on that side of the rivtr. li' 
 was ffoinf]: to join the main-body. On heariiiL^ 
 this reassuring news, Maggie slipped away to lit i 
 canoe and paddled homewards. 
 
 On coming in sight of the slianty she was ainaz* i 
 and alarmed by the change that had taken place ii 
 lier short absence. American soldiers were clu- 
 tered around it, and a few horses picketed. Fuai 
 ing the worst, she drew near. Seated by the tii' 
 were vseveral officers warminfi: themselves and drv 
 ing their clothes, and with whom her mother was ii; 
 altercation. 
 
 "Come to free us, say ye? What wad ye freeib 
 frae?" 
 
 " From the tyranny of European monarchy," fi"- 
 swered an officer with a smile. 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 157 
 
 "It maun be a licht yoke that we never felt. 
 Mak us free, tlootless, like that blackamoor servant 
 that's cooking yer breakfast." 
 
 "Waal, no," said another officer, "yer a furriner, 
 vi' know, but yer white." 
 
 'A foreigner!" exclaimed Mrs Forsyth, "hae I 
 lived to be ca'ed in my ain house, a foreigner! I bo- 
 laiiiT to nae sic trash. Manners maun be scarce 
 whanr you come frae, my man." 
 
 "That's all right, old woman; the old man will 
 understand how it is. We have come to make you 
 independent." 
 
 'Auld man! Auld woman! God forgie you for 
 liaein' nae respeck for grey hairs. My guid man, 
 >ir, taks nae stock in ye or your fine words. Nicht 
 and mornin' does he pray for King George an' that 
 his throne may be preserved. You're a set o' land- 
 loupers, wha hae nae business here an' its my howp 
 afore nicht you may be tleein' back to wdiaur ye 
 cam frae." 
 
 "Canada folk are not all like you." 
 
 'Ay, that they are. There's no an' Auld Country 
 family from here to the Basin that winna gie you 
 the hack o' thei. hand, an' no ane that wadna suner 
 lose a' than come unner yer rule." 
 
 Afraid that further controversy might result 
 unpleasantly, Maggie left her attitude of listen- 
 ing outside the door and entered. One or two of 
 the younger officers rose and bowed ; the others 
 stared. 
 
1 58 
 
 (;leanp:r tai.?:s. 
 
 "Oil, Maggie, I wisli you had stayed where you 
 were," said hei* niotlier, "you liave come into tlif 
 lion's den, for your father is no niaister here." 
 
 "I am sure, mother, these gentlemen will Hdt 
 harm ns." 
 
 "Not at all," interrin)ted one of the strangers, 
 "and in a few liours we will leave you alone again.' 
 
 "The sicht o' your backs will be maist weleoinc,' 
 ]"emarked Mrs Forsyth. 
 
 "Whei-e is father?" 
 
 "Helpin' thae Yankees to get a hand o' his ain 
 l)roperty. They took him oot t<j get fodder for 
 their horses." 
 
 There was a bustle outside and presently tw" 
 .soMiers carried in a young lad, in lieutenant's uni- 
 form, whose white face told that lie had iHtii 
 wounded. They were about to lay him down in 
 front of the fire, wdien Mrs Forsyth darted forw.inl: 
 "No, na: dinna pit the puir chiel on the floor: tak 
 him to my ain bed," and she helped to place him 
 there. Two surgeons took oft' his coat and shirt. 
 when the wound appeared ; a bullet had gouf 
 through the fieshy part Vjeneath the arm-pit, caus- 
 ing: some loss of blood without doinjx serious in- 
 jury. When the surgeons said he would recovei'. 
 Mrs Forsyth's face beamed and she bustled about 
 to get the I'equisites needed to clean and dress tli*' 
 wound, wdiile, under her orders, Maggie made gru<l 
 to revive his strength. While thus enofacred,ofiict'r>^ 
 came and went, and the house was never without 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 159 
 
 >»'veral of tbein. There came a tall, s(j\iare-l)uilt 
 man, whose shoulder-straps irnlicated ln<^di rank, 
 and his (juiet, resolute face one accustomed to 
 fommand. He advanced to the bed where the 
 wounded lad lay, asked a few questions, an<l spoke 
 encouragingly to tlie sufferer. 
 
 "It is too bad that Dingley, of all our corps, 
 sliould have had this luck," remarked an officer. 
 
 "Yes, and to no purpose. I fear the miscarriage 
 I if our plan to surprise the ford will lead to the 
 abandonment of the purpose to capture Montreal." 
 
 'There is not a man in the army that does not 
 wish we were in wunter-quarters. To fight in such 
 a country at this season is more than flesh and 
 lilood can stand." 
 
 "Yet to go back will disgrace us," said the su- 
 jcrior officer, who withdrew. 
 
 "Who is that?" asked Mairii'ie of one of the sur- 
 
 oo 
 
 ^vons. 
 
 "That is Col. Purdy, and if he had been in com- 
 mand we would not have spent all summer xluing 
 nothing and come here in the end of October." 
 
 "Yet he failed in capturing the ford," remarked 
 Maggie, with a sparkle in her eye. 
 
 "He could not help the weather and the dark 
 night that kept us standing in the woods until 
 laybreak. After all, we would have surprised the 
 uuard and taken the ford had it not been for some- 
 '•'dy, perhaps a traitor among ourselves, who carried 
 word of our cominsf." 
 
IGO 
 
 GLEANEll TALES. 
 
 *' Maybe," said Maggie demurely, "but you <1M 
 not iiet the ford and what can you do now?" 
 
 "Notliino-, I am afraid. Tlie failure of our l.ri- 
 gade to carry the key of the enemy's position nuiy 
 cause the General to give up the enterprise." 
 
 ^1 
 ! 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 On' leaving Morrison's, Hemlock hurried to the 
 froat, followed by his braves. As he reached each 
 successive line of defence he paused brieHy to scan 
 it, but when lie came to that which had been en- 
 trusted to the Indians, and which was within sight 
 of the front, he halted to fraternize with his breth- 
 ren and share their fare, for it was now noon. The 
 urLcent recjuests of the chiefs, that he should stay 
 with them and aid in the threatened conflict, he 
 (k'clined, saying he wanted to be with the first line, 
 and his dusky comrades afterwards recalled that 
 he parted with more than usual ceremony and that 
 when he and his small band gained the eminence 
 on the other side of the ravine, he looked back and 
 waved his hand in farewell. A tramp of a few 
 minutes broujjht him to the advance line, where he 
 found men still busy felling and rolling trees to 
 strengthen the abattis. Inquiring for the officer 
 in command he came upon him, a short, broad- 
 shouldered man, engaged in swearing at one of his 
 men for neglect of duty. On seeing the Indians 
 he turned, and with hearty gesture grasped Hem- 
 lock's extended hand. "Ha, bon camarado, have 
 you come to help?" 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 > I 
 
 :il 
 
1G2 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Will there be a fight?" asked Hemlock. 
 "Yes, yes; stand on this stump and you can stt.' 
 for yourself." 
 
 With cautious movement Heudock scanne«l tliti 
 scene. In front of the abattis there was a narrow- 
 clearing that skirted the river bank as far as the 
 view extended. On the road and adjoininir fields 
 were masses of American troops, with the smok'' 
 rising from the fires at which they were cookin;^ 
 dinner. " i^ou see, Hemlock," said Colonel deSala- 
 berry, "they may make an attack any minutf. 
 Those mounted officers looking at us from tlif 
 road are the General and his staff." 
 
 Hemlock gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Wlioiv 
 will we stand?" he asked. 
 
 "Get into the woods and cover our flank," deSal- 
 aberry replied. Without another word, Hemlock 
 motioned to his men and led the way to where the 
 line of defence ended in the bush. Here he spread 
 out his men and awaited the onset. Half an hour 
 passed when the roll of drums was heard, and 
 Hendock saw a brigade falling into rank on tlu' 
 road. When all were in place, the column moved 
 slowly, for the road was a canal of mud intersect- 
 ed by pools of water. As they approached with 
 in range the order to deploy was shouted, and 
 the men streamed on to the clearing until a linf 
 the length of the field was formed. Then they 
 faced round, and Hemlock heard the command t' 
 advance, when the Americans came on, a solid wall 
 
 • if hu 
 
 Jnstai 
 
 liritisl 
 
 alive V 
 
 of tho! 
 
 with e^ 
 
 they \\ 
 
 pJatoor 
 
 sued s] 
 
 The sh 
 
 the bus 
 
 mir the ( 
 
 It soon 1 
 
 a waste 
 
 into tlie 
 
 thecoin| 
 
 Were s\\ 
 
 .1,'ain a ]] 
 
 '■I cross- j 
 
 moved t\ 
 
 that cau.1 
 
 British 
 
 " criticall 
 
 f'f boir 
 
 \\ith IijJ 
 
 ''<fec(l thf 
 
 ^'^r Henil 
 
 tj'oops eii 
 
 'int'd foil 
 
 they weri 
 
H KM LOCK. 
 
 1G3 
 
 of liunumity, ipovin;^ witli slow aii<l steady stop. 
 Instantly, the hiisliy altattis, Itrliiiid which tht^ 
 l>ritish lay, silent as the ;^n*av(' until now, In'canKv 
 jilive with the puff's of n^' sket-shots and the shouts 
 of those who tired them. On the Aniei'icans came 
 with even step until well within hlank ran^e, when 
 tlioy were halted and the order ^iven to tire by 
 |)hito()ns. The re^nilar roll ot* musketry tfiat en- 
 sued spoke well for their nerve an<l <liscipline. 
 The shower of bullets they sent streaming into 
 the bush in front of them had no effect in clieck- 
 hv^ the opposing tire, which was irre<^ular buf lively- 
 It soon became apparent that firing by platoons was 
 a waste of annnunition, a mere flinging of bullets 
 into the tree-tops, and there was a movement in 
 the companies in the cohnini next the woods, which 
 were swung forward, in order that they might 
 i,^ain a position which woidd enable them to pour 
 a cross-fire into the British position. The me a 
 moved steadily, all the while pouring in volleys, 
 that caused the defenders of the upper end of the 
 British line to leave and go lower down. It was 
 a critical moment. The Britisli lin<' was in danofcr 
 of being flanked, and Hendock saw its peril. He 
 with his band were concealed in the woods that 
 t'dged the clearing, and so far liad not fired a shot, 
 tor Hemlock, who knew the futility of irregular 
 troops engaging in a musketry duel with a discip- 
 lined force, had determined not to show where 
 ihey were until the Americans came to close cjuar- 
 
IGi 
 
 CJLEANEK TAf.KS. 
 
 
 tcT<. Now lie saw liis opportunity. Sif(nin«; to lli^ 
 men to follow, he stealthily crept until he was close 
 beliind tlu^ Ani(*rican companies that wen? cdirin,' 
 to Hank the J>ritish lin«'. When near U})on tli< 
 unsuspectin;^- Americans, lie sprang to his feet, <,'»iv. 
 the war-whu(»p, an<l fired liis musket, his follo\v('i> 
 •<loin<r likewise. 1'he Americans looked round in 
 tori'iHecl astoin'shment, and saw the Indians ieapiiii; 
 towards them with ear-piercing yells and brandish- 
 ing their tomaliawks. They wavered, broke rank 
 an<l Hed towards their supports, who were a short 
 distance behind. Hendock bounded among the 
 Heeing men and two bad fallen under his hiuid 
 wlien a volley of bullets from the supporting 
 cohimn came shriekin<; throuf^li the air. All saw 
 one passed liarndessly over the heads of the ruil- 
 men — that one struck Hendock in the breast, aii'l 
 lie sank upon Ids right knee. Alarmed at his fall 
 his men desisted fi'om followinji' the tleeinii' eneniv 
 and seizinix hold of him hurried into the shelter nt 
 the woods. They laid him down and were about 
 to loosen his jacket, for he was in a faint, wIku 
 there rose a burst of cheering from the British lini. 
 on seeing the success of the Indians' diversion. Th' 
 sound caught the ear of the dying chief. His cyt.'^ 
 opened as from slumber, rolled wildly for a ni' 
 ment, and his breast heaved convulsively. H' 
 staggered to his feet, and lifting aloft his tunia- 
 hawk, dripping with the blood of its last victim 
 he raised the w^ar-whoop, suddenly stopped short 
 
H KM LOCK. 
 
 lii.J 
 
 rolled unsteadily, and thru fell as a piiic-tri'*' falls. 
 An Indian kiudt down hesidu him and raised his 
 head while he pressed liis hand on his forehead. 
 
 Then' was no responsive throb. Hendoek was dead. 
 
 « « « « « 
 
 "I would swear that was Kendock's whoop," said 
 Mortctn to Inniself. II<' stood amid a j^n-oup of eav- 
 ulryiiien who were watchin*"' intently what was 
 i:oiii<; on from a field within easy v'"W. He had 
 t(jll()wed the en^'agement with intelli^^Mit interest; 
 had noted how the American infantry had ad- 
 vanced, deployed, formed Hih?, and opened tire on 
 the British position. What followed provoked him. 
 When lie saw how ineffectual the Ihitish fire was 
 upon the American i-anks, thouoh stan<lin<,^ in the 
 npiTi and within easy ran«^e, he gr<)un<l his teeth 
 in vexation. "Those militiamen could not hit a 
 liarn; a hundred re^nilars would have? decimated 
 the American colunni witli half the annnunition 
 that has Vjeen spent," he nuittered to liimself. 
 When the upper end of the American line swun;^ 
 forward, his thoughts changed. "Ah, they are 
 ;.,'oing to fix bayonets and cany our position by 
 assault. God help our lads." He was mistaken; 
 the movement was to gain a point whence to rako 
 the British position with sni enfilading fire. As he 
 ^aw the Americans move forward unopposed and 
 the British fire slacken from the bush opposite, his 
 heart sank. "The day is lost: in five minutes the 
 Americans will have possession of the far end of 
 
1G6 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 that Imsliy entrenchment, and it will be untenable." 
 Suddenly the war-whoop of the Indians was heard, 
 then came their wild assault, and the flight of the 
 Americans. "Well done, Hemlock!" exulted Mor- 
 ton, "no other lungs than yours could have raised 
 that shriek and your timely move has certainly 
 checked the attempt to flank the British position. 
 What next?" Having ascertained so unpleasantly 
 that the wood to their left was held by Indians, 
 the Americans did not try again to turn the Britisl; 
 position, and the companies that had broken in dis- 
 order were leformed and placed in rear, while the 
 battalions in line continued to pour volleys into the 
 bush heaps in front of them. Hampton anu his 
 staff' were on horseback, watching the progress of 
 the contest from a bit of rising ground by the river. 
 At this juncture Morton observed him sirnal with 
 his hand to some one on the other side of the river, 
 ^nd from that ({uarter, soon after, came the rattle 
 of musketry. It did not last long and when it died 
 away, an orderly was detached from the General's 
 staff* and came galloping to deliver a message to 
 Izard, who instaniiy gave the order to cease firini,^ 
 The column fell back a few pacet and the men 
 jstood in rank, awaiting orders. To Mortor's sur- 
 prise, firing from the British line also ceased, ari'l 
 the two combatants simply looked at ont another. 
 ^'Can it be," asked Morton, "that our General does 
 not want to pi'ovoke an engagement and would be 
 contei t to see the Americans leave?" The brief 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 167 
 
 October day was drawing to an end, and still the 
 American brigade stood immovable and there was 
 not a sign of life along the British line. When the 
 rq-ey clouds began to be tinged by the setting sun, 
 and it was apparent nothing more could be done 
 that day, Izard received the order to fall back. As 
 if on parade, the evolutions recjuisite were gone 
 through and the column began its march to the 
 camp, three miles in rear. 
 
 "Hillo, Morton, you seem stupefied. Lost in 
 amaze at the gallantry of your comrades-in-arms 
 permitting a brigade to file off under their nose 
 without an attempt to molest them. Eh?" The 
 voice was that of Colonel Vanderberg. 
 
 "I confess you interpret my thoughts," answered 
 Morton. "I am glad to see you back." 
 
 "I have had a fatiguing day's duty and am not 
 yet done. I have just left the General, who in- 
 structed me to go over and see Purdy and arrange 
 for the withdrawal of his force. Will you come 
 with me?" 
 
 "That I w^ill; I am tired of standing here." 
 
 As they approached the river, Morton noted that 
 the bank was strongly picketted by infantry and 
 that a body of cavalry were bivouaced in a field 
 heside the road. Stepping upon a raft that had 
 I'oen extemporized to form a ferry with the other 
 side, the Colonel and Morton were landed in the 
 midst of Purdy 's men, who were making them- 
 selves as comfortable as possible before their camp- 
 
 
1C8 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 < 
 
 tires. They looked tired and dejected. The Colonel 
 was told Purdy had •^one to remain until morning' 
 with his outposts, as a night attack upon them 
 was looked for. Accompanied by a soldier to show 
 them the way they went on, now floundering thru' 
 marshy spots and again jumping little creeks, alter- 
 nating with bits of dry bank and scrubby brusli, 
 until they emerged into a clearing. Morton cauglit 
 his breath with astonishment. In front was the 
 shanty of the Forsyths! He had had no idea it 
 was so near. The door was open ind he could see 
 it was full of officers. Around the house were 
 I'esting a strong body of troops. Col. Vanderber^j 
 pushed in and was soon in earnest conversation 
 with Purdy, who sat smoking by the fire. Morton 
 i^cmained at the door and scanned the interior, 
 which was filled by a cloud of tobacco-smoke and 
 reeked with the odor of cookinij and of steaiiiini: 
 wet clothes. In the corner, where the bed stood, he 
 saw Maggie leaning over a recumbent youth, whose 
 white face and bandaged shoulder told of a wound. 
 Mortons heart jumped at sight of her and his lips 
 twitched. The next moment, as he saw how gently 
 she soothed the sufferer, a pang of jealousy succeed- 
 ed, and he clenched his teeth. Pulling his cloak 
 more tightly around him he entered and drew up 
 behind Colonel Vanderberg, who was saying, "Then 
 I am to tell the General from you, that you will 
 not join him tonight." 
 
 "Yes, tell him I cannot; that the river is too deep 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 1<)9 
 
 to ford and too wide to bridge and that it is out 
 of the (juestion to cross 1500 men on rafts. At 
 ilaylight we will inarch back the way we came 
 and join him at Spears." 
 
 "It will be an unwelcome messnge, for he count- 
 ed on your rejoining him tonight." 
 
 "I care not," blufHy retorted Purdy, ''I am a sol- 
 dier and know a soldier's duty and have to think 
 of those under me. I'll risk no lives to liumor his 
 wlnms. 
 
 "He fears a night assault upon your brigade." 
 
 "So do I," replied Purdy, Ijlowing a cloud of to- 
 liacco smoke, "and would fear it more if assailed 
 wliile on the march through these woods or in the 
 endeavor to cross the river. The General should 
 have ordered us to retire while there was daylight." 
 
 "Ah, well, I have delivered my message Jind must 
 1^(3 back with my answer. Come, Morton." 
 
 At the sound of the familiar name Magoie looked 
 round, and when her eyes fell on Morton, she bhish- 
 ed deeply. To hide her confusion from the roomful 
 of men, she turned her back and bowed her head 
 close to the pillow whereon lay the head of the 
 patient. More nettled than ever, Morton started 
 to move (juickly away, when there a})peared at the 
 •loorway t'.e frail form of Mrs Forsyth, "(iod be 
 glide to us, if this is no Morton. Oh but I'm gled 
 to see you and sae will the gudeman. I went out 
 to look for him, an' hav'na found him, but he'll sune 
 be here an', onyway, you're going to bide wi' us." 
 
 %f.i^ 
 
170 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot." 
 
 "But yc maun. Ye dinna ken boo yer takin' awn' 
 concerned us and pit us aboot." 
 
 "You forf^et I am a prisoner." 
 
 "Prisoner! You are nae prisoner. You're noo 
 in oor hoose an' you'll just bide liere an' let thae 
 Yankees gae awa." 
 
 "I am afraid they would insist on taking me with 
 them." 
 
 " Hoots, man, I'll baud ye. Maggie, do you ken 
 Morton's come ?" 
 
 "Yes, mother; I saw liim." 
 
 " Weel, come ower and mak liim stay an' no gan^ 
 back to be bullyragged by a wheen Yankees." 
 
 Maggie made no reply, but turned to avoid the 
 gaze of the Americans attracted by the scene at 
 the door and her mother's words. Morton also idi 
 mortified at the situation. "Thank vou, Mrs For- 
 syth, l)ut I must go, and tell yonr hs'soand and 
 sons I have never forgot them aiA never will." 
 Eluding her grasp he followed Colonel V"anderber<i;\ 
 who stood outside the door with lauorhino: coun- 
 tenance. He had not gone far when a swift step 
 was heard behind and his name was uttered. Turii- 
 ino' he saw Majjfijie, who held out her rio-ht hand. 
 "Tal this," she said, "I may not see you — again. ' 
 There w a^ a sob as she uttered the last word. He 
 grasped what she held to him and before he couM 
 say a W/id t^hc had turned and fled back to the 
 hous'. M\>rton held the object up to the light 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 171 
 
 of the nearest camp-fire. It was his signet- rin*^. 
 
 More perplexed than ever, an^^ry with Ma^^gie 
 and angry with liiniself, he braced himself and fol- 
 lowed the Colonel in silence until the camp was 
 reached. Supper awaited them, and that disposed 
 of, the Colonel, wearied with his day's exertion, 
 riung himself on the ground and fell asleep. Mor- 
 ton tried in vain to do likewise. 
 
 At daybreak the army was astir and the expecta- 
 tion of the men was an order to renew the assault 
 upon the British position. No such order came, 
 find it was wearing well into the forenoon when 
 the commanding-officers were sunnnoned to attend 
 at the General's tent to hold a council - of - war. 
 Amone: others Colonel Vanderbersj went. Morton 
 watched eagerly his return, and when he came his 
 (questioning eyes told what his tongue, from cour- 
 tesy, would net ask. "Well, Morton, 3'ou would 
 like to know what has been decided upon, and as 
 it is no secret, I will tell you. The campaign has 
 been abandoned and the army goes back to the 
 States to go into winter-quarters. We marched into 
 Canada to co-operate with Wilkinson. Last night 
 the General received a despatch that he had not 
 yet left Sackett's Harbor, while we supposed he 
 was now steering his triumphant way down the 
 St Lawrence, and miglit even be at the mouth of 
 the Chateaugay waiting for us. It was argued 
 that, as Wilkinpon liad not moved, and it was un- 
 certain if he would, nothing was to be gained by 
 
172 
 
 fiLEAXEIl TALLS. 
 
 ;:^i 
 
 ! 
 
 
 our army go\n<^ on, for, without the tlotiUa, we 
 could not cross the St Lawrence to take Montreal." 
 
 "And what of the disgrace of retirinfj before an 
 enemy whom you have burnt powder with for an 
 afternoon?' 
 
 "Thero you have us, Morton. I urged tliat, be- 
 fore we fell back, the honor of our flag required 
 our routing the enemy in front of us, but the 
 Oeneral showed that he has had all along com- 
 plete information of its position an<l strength, ob- 
 tained from spies and deserters — that there are six 
 lines of wooden breastworks, held by Indians and 
 light troops, and that only after storming them 
 would we come in face of the main position, where 
 the regulars are entrenched with cannon and C(jm- 
 manded by Sir Geoige Prevost in person. When 
 there was nothing to be gained, it was asked, what 
 was the use of further fiohtino:? The miscarriaire 
 of the attempt under Purdy to flank the enemy's 
 ])osition discouraged our officers, who, altho' they 
 <lo not say it, want to get away from this miser- 
 able condition of cold and wet and nuid." 
 
 "So we u'o back ivhence we came?" remarke<l 
 Morton moo(lil)', as lie thought of the stable at 
 (yhateaugay. 
 
 "My dear fellow, bear irp; 1 will do my best to 
 l.ave ycni exchanged, 
 
 Merton slu>ok his h id as he said, "I am not heUl 
 as a prison' r of war. " 
 
 The Colonel bit his lip. "I have not told you all. 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 17.S 
 
 The carryiiif^ of the decision of the council to Wilk- 
 inson was entrusted to nie." 
 
 "And so you leave nie!" exclaimed Morton sadly. 
 
 "I start after dinner, and cheer up, man; we will 
 have a f^ood one as a farewell feast." Then, with 
 evident hesitation, the Colonel went on, as delicate- 
 ly as possible, to show Morton that he had better 
 withdraw his parole an<l go again under a guanl. 
 Removed from his protection, it would not be 
 safe to move amonjjf men soured by an unfortu- 
 nate campaign. Morton assented and expressed his 
 thanks for advice he knew it pained the Colonel to 
 give. Dinner over, the Colonel's horse was brought, 
 and with a warm grasp of the hand he l»ade Morton 
 good-bye, leapt into the saddle, and galloped out of 
 sight. Morton saw him not again. 
 
 In a despondent mood Morton turned away and 
 sought the guard- tent, when he gave himself up to 
 the officer- of -the-day, who accepted his surrender 
 as a matter of course. The soldiers took little 
 notice of him, being in high spirits at the prospect 
 of going back to the States and busily engaged in 
 the preparations to leave. That afternoon part of 
 the batTiJfaffe- train left and went tloundcrinc^ alonii' 
 the nuiddy road to Four Corners. As evening drew 
 nigh, the rain, accompanied by a raw east wind, 
 recommenced, flooding the level clearances upon 
 which the tents were pitclied and making every- 
 body miserable. Tlie captain of the guard souglit 
 shelter from the blast and the water l)y causing 
 
174 
 
 (iLEANEll TALES. 
 
 m 
 
 the tonts he controlled to be pitched on the slope 
 of a hollow scooped out hy a creek, and in one of 
 tlieni Morton lay down along with seven soldiers. 
 Sleep soon came to relieve him of his depression in 
 mind and discomfort of body, and the hours sped 
 while he was so unconscious that he did not heui- 
 when ''is companions left to take their tiu'n on 
 duty and those they relieved took their places in 
 tlie tent. Jlis first deep sleep was over when In- 
 felt that some furtive hand was being passed over 
 the canvas to Hnd the opening. When the flap wus 
 drawn aside, so dark was it that he could not dis- 
 tinguish who stood there. He supposed it was 
 some belated private seeking cover from the pelt- 
 ing rain and lie w\as about to turn and resume liis 
 slundjer wdien a flint was struck and the tent was 
 lit for a moment by its sparks. Somebody liglit- 
 ing a pipe, he said, too drowsy to look. A minute 
 afterwards he felt that the curtain of the tent 
 where his head lay was being cautiously lifte<l 
 and soon a hand reached in, touched his face, and 
 then catching the collar of his coat began pulling. 
 He made a motion to resist, when a voice whispered, 
 "Hendock." In a flash he realized he w^as about t<' 
 V)e rescued, and, guided by the hand that grasped 
 him, slowly crept out. No sooner was he upon his 
 feet, than he felt men were gliding past liim into 
 the tent. All at once there was a sound of strik- 
 incr, as of knives beinof driven into the bodies ot" 
 the sleeping inmates, a slight commotion, a few 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 17.1 
 
 ij;roans, and then all was still Morton's tlosh civpt, 
 ,is lie guessed at the horrid work in which the In- 
 dians were engaged. So inten.sely dark was it, that 
 lie could see nothin<r. Tiiere was a sliorht shut*- 
 fling ot* feet and he was grasped by the arm on 
 «Mther side and hurried forward. He knew they 
 were following the course of the ravine, for he 
 could hear the wash of the creek. Suddenly his 
 conductors came to a halt and there was a pause, 
 until a faint chirrup was heard. Then the bank 
 was climbed and, emerging on a clearance, Morton 
 saw the tents of the American camp some distance 
 to his left, lit up by the smoldering fires that burn- 
 ed dimly between the rows. Looking round, he 
 tor the tirst time saw his companions, who were, 
 ;is he suspected, a band of Indians. Taking ad- 
 vantage of ever"" available cover the Indians Hided, 
 ill single file, across the bit of open that intervened 
 between where they stood and the bush. When 
 its shelter was gained, they halted on a dry knoll, 
 and scjuatted, when they began to giggle and to 
 chatter in their native tongue, plainly exulting 
 over the success of their rai<l. Morton tried to 
 communicate with them, but found they could not 
 speak English, and the only word they uttered 
 which he recognized was "Hemlock," altho' that 
 ureat chief was not among them. One of them 
 fould speak a little French, which, however, Mor- 
 ton did not understand. When daylight began to 
 creep in upon the darkness, they became alert, and 
 
no 
 
 (JLEANEU TALKS. 
 
 ! 
 
 l: I; 
 
 as sooi! as it was clear oiLmMi to st'O whci'*' tlicv 
 were j^^oinn- they starte<l; Morton liad no idea in 
 what <lir('(!ti()n. All ho knew was, that their courst- 
 1(,m1 them ovei* a swampy country intersected hy 
 stony ridges, and that had it not been that the 
 leaders of the file ]»r()k«; a path lie could never 
 have t'olhjwed. The exertion was exhausting and 
 he would have succumbed at the end ol' the first 
 hour had it not been that the spirit of freedom 
 elated him, and the knowledge that every mile lie 
 overto()k increased the distance between him and 
 the hated bondage from which he had escaped 
 spurred liim on. On the L'i\<i;v of an apparently 
 limitless swamp they paused before entering upon 
 it to Imve a smoke. It was apparent that they 
 carried no food. Morton sank upon a pile of leaves 
 that had drifted against a log and stretcluMl his 
 wearied legs. Refreshed by the rest, he faced the 
 swamp wdth courage, soon finding, however, that, 
 without the help of the Indians, he could have 
 made little headway. Witli the light step and 
 agility of cats they stepped over quaking surfaces 
 and sprang from log to log until solid land was 
 reached, and w^ith it came the sound of rushin;; 
 water. Escaping from the brush, a broad river, 
 dasiiing impetuously over a rocky channel, burst 
 in view. Following its bank in single tile, Morton 
 saw it grew wider, until it expanded into a lake, 
 when he knew it was the 8t Lawrence. On com- 
 ing opposite the promontory that marked the inlet 
 
 i 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 17' 
 
 of the river from the hike, tlie Indians eji^n»rly 
 scrutinized it. (Jatherini,^ some (himj) h-aves they 
 iiia<le a smoke. The si<^nal was seen l»y tliosr* op- 
 posite, for a h)ng-}>oat was hmnohed fi*om under 
 the trees and rapidly ap|)roaehed them. Morton's 
 heart leapt witli Joy when lu: distin<^uished that 
 the steersman had a ivd-eoat on, and as the boat 
 (hvw nearer and he eould make out the rnchly 
 iDiintenances of the crew, frank and open in ex- 
 pression, and catch the sonnd of their hearty Ei\i^- 
 hsii speech, he could not resist thi; imp)ulse to swin;;' 
 his hat and wake the echoes with a lusty cheer. 
 The Indians <^a"inne(l and one clapped him on the 
 hack in hi^h approval. 
 
 Tlu; corporal in cliarj]^e of the boat infornu'd 
 Morton that he belonjxed to the (garrison of Coteau- 
 4ii-lac and was, for the we«'k, with the party on 
 the point, to <^uard the .south channel. There were 
 so many Indians tliat the boat had to leave part 
 for a .second trip. On landing at the })(jint Morton 
 was warndy welcomed by the otiicer in charge, and 
 l^^iven the best he had, whicli proved to be fried 
 pork and biscuit. At noon the boat that daily 
 hroiiglit supplies from Coteau arrived, and in it 
 Morton with the Indians embarked. As .soon as he 
 stepped ashore, he made for tlie commander's cpiar- 
 ters and was .shown into the i)i-esence of Col. Leth- 
 hriilgt'. On announcing who he was, the Colonel 
 welcomed him as one from the dead and impatient- 
 ly demanded to hear when and how he had escaped. 
 
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 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
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178 
 
 GLEAN Ell TALES. 
 
 When he came to tell of the exploit of the preced- 
 ing night, and that the Indians who had performed 
 in it were waiting in the barrack-yard, the Colonel 
 thumped the table and swore each man of tlieia 
 would take home all the tobacco and pork he 
 could carry. Going out to see them before they 
 left, Morton learned through an interpreter of 
 Hemlock's death and that his rescue was in fulfil- 
 ment of an order he had left. They were going ti 
 Oka to join the party who were on the way from 
 the Chateaugay with his body, to bury it beside 
 that of his daughter, and hold a funeral lodge. 
 Morton was deeply moved. "Faithful soul," he 
 exclaimed, "would to heaven he had lived that I 
 might have shown him my gratitude." Applying 
 to the paymaster he obtained an advance, and in 
 parting with the Indians pressed a big Mexican 
 dollar into the hand of each of them. 
 
 Colonel Lethbridge insisted on Morton's being his 
 guest, and after leaving him in his bedroom sent 
 his servant to wait upon him, and who brought a 
 fresh suit of clothes. Morton was the hero of the 
 garrison, and when he appeared at the mess-tahle, 
 so many complimentary speeches were made, so 
 many songs sung, and so many toasts drank that 
 it was nigh midnight when he got to bed. He ros^' 
 next morning intent on entering harness again, ami 
 over a late breakfast discussed with Col. Lethbridge 
 as to how he could rejoin his regiment, which had 
 been called to the Niagara frontier, and it wai 
 
flEMT/X'K. 
 
 V{y 
 
 n;,Tee(l he should jl;o by tlie next convoy, always 
 provided Wilkinson did not come, which, after 
 what Morton reported of Hampton's army return- 
 ing to the States, Lethbrid<^e doubted. Each day 
 tidinffs of Wilkinson's leaving the shelter of Sack- 
 ctt's Harbor had been looked for, and the feeling 
 was that unless he left within a week he would 
 not come at all, for the season was now well- 
 a<lvanced, and already on several mornings had ice 
 formed round boats while lying at Coteau. Col. 
 Scott had been sent to Cornwall to superintend the 
 ))reparations there, and Lethbri<lge had taken his 
 place at the less important point. The following- 
 week the unexpected happened — late one after- 
 noon a gunboat came down the lake under press 
 (tf canvas, with word that Wilkinson had started 
 — was descendiuij the river with a flotilla of 300 
 l)oats bearing 7000 men. A few days of excite- 
 ment and wearing suspense succee(le<l, and then 
 came word of the battle of Crystler's Farm — how 
 a strong brigade of Americans liad landed at the 
 liead of the Long Sault rapids to clear the rorth 
 itank of the batteries the British ha<l planted to 
 prevent the flotilla descending and been routed by 
 (leneral Boyd. Treading upon the heels of the 
 news of that decisive victory canui the announce- 
 ment that Wilkinson had abandoned his under- 
 taking and had gone back to the United States by 
 sailing into Salmon river with Ins beaten army. 
 The campaign was ended for the season, and troops 
 
 i- 
 
 
ISO 
 
 ca.KANEH TALKS. 
 
 11 
 
 4 
 
 wore DidtTcd into vvinter-(]uartors. Tlu' day tlir 
 news n'Mclicd Coteau of Wilkinson's rii<j^ht to Frenrli 
 Mills. i\ string of boats came up loaded with iiiili- 
 tary >tores for Upper (^anadi- and a few troops. 
 To Morton's astonishment, amon<^ them was tin 
 <letachment he had conducted to the (/hateauirav. 
 The can)p there having been broken up, they wcie 
 on their way to join the regiment, and hoped tn 
 reacli it before navigation closed. Ciladly Morton 
 resume<l conunand and six days later reported at 
 Niagara. 
 
CHAPTKH XIV. 
 
 After a night of excitonient fioin wild alarms, 
 the Americans left the Forsyth li(»usehoUl at 'lay- 
 \\*s\\t, leaving not one l)ehin(J, for even the wounded 
 officer they carried with them in a litter. I'ttorly 
 worn out the family sought rest, and it was late in 
 the day when the father arose, and leaving the 
 others, sleeping, went out to see what of his pro- 
 nertv iiad been left. The more closelv he examined 
 the more fully the unwelcome fact was forced upon 
 him, that he was left destitute, and when he came 
 upon the black head of his cow, which the sohli' rs 
 Imd slaughtere<l for l)eef, he sat down in a despair- 
 ing mood. "It's no for mysel' I'm troubled," he 
 • xclaimed, "but for my ailin' wife and puir Maggie! 
 To face a Canadian winter wi' a bare loof is awfu." 
 And he gave way to a tit of despondency. 'This 
 winnado," he said with a rueful look at the devas- 
 tation around hin), "a stout heart to a stey l)rae, 
 and wi* God's help, I'll mak the best o't " When 
 Maggie sometime afterwards appeared at the d(jor 
 he was industriously laboring to bring his sur- 
 roundings into order. "Weel, lass, an' hoo are yc 
 after oor big pairty?" 
 
 Ml 
 
Irt2 
 
 fJLEAN'EK TALES. 
 
 f' 
 
 "Xo so ill; but, father, what arc we to do, there's 
 no a bite in the liouse? The cellar is rookit ascleun 
 as it* a pack of wolves had visited it " 
 
 The old man approached and takin^^ his daiiglitei* 
 by the hand drew lier to the seat by the door-step. 
 ^'Ma'r<rie, I ken ye hae a brave spirit and can ])ear 
 the worst. I am a ruined man. The Yankees have 
 •en ten us oot o' house an' liold. The very boards o' 
 the byre liae been torn awa' to licht their ^res. 
 Oor coo, the young l»easts, the pigs, hae a' been 
 ■eaten. There's no even a chuckie left." 
 
 "O but there is," interrupted Maggie, "see to Jenny 
 Tapknot over there," pointing smilingly thro' tears 
 to a favorite cliicken that had eluded the soldiers 
 and was eyeing them from a branch. 
 
 "Weel, weel, we hae one leevin' thing left us. 
 O' a' oor crop there is naething to the fore but tlu' 
 wnthreshed wheat, an' mickle o't is useless from thu 
 sojers using it to lie on." 
 
 "Was it right, father, for them to take your pro- 
 perty without paying you?". 
 
 "Pay me! The thocht o' paying a subject o* the 
 Kinjj never entered their heid.s. Micht is richt wi' 
 them. What we are to do is no just clear to nw 
 yet, but we'll trust in Him wha has never fail- 
 •ed to supply oor bite an' sup. Only, Maggie, ye 
 maun for yer mither's sake put a cheerfu' face un't 
 an' mak the best o't." 
 
 "Hoot, father, what gars ye doot me? We lift*- 
 aye been provided for an' sae will we yet, says the 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 is:\ 
 
 auM sang. You take the canoe an' go down to Mor- 
 rison's an' see what you can get there to keep us 
 froinff until the morn, an' while you're away I'll 
 red the house an' hae a' rea<ly for supper gin niithcr 
 wakens." 
 
 With brightened face and hopeful step the old 
 man did as asked and did not return empty-handed. 
 Over the frugal meal the situation was discussed 
 and both the husband and daughter were glad to 
 see that the calamity that had overtaken them so 
 far from overwhelming Mrs Forsyth, roused her, 
 and revived the active and hopeful spirit that had 
 heen a feature in her character before ailments and 
 ajre had overtaken her. Lonff and earnest was the 
 consultation by the fireside that night, and many a 
 plan proposed to tide over the long months that 
 must intervene before another harvest could be 
 reaped. As bed-time drew near, the father lifted 
 down the book, and after they had sung the 23rd 
 psahn, he read the 17th chapter of First Kings, and 
 poured out his heart in thanksgiving for the un- 
 numbered blessings bestowed upon him and his, 
 and, above all, for the departure of the invader. 
 
 Two days afterwards, when it had become as- 
 sured that Hampton was in leisurely retreat whence 
 he came, those of the militia, at Baker's camp, who 
 wished were given leave to go to their homes, and 
 the Forsyth lads returned. They were much ex- 
 asperated at the plundered state of their home, and 
 more provoked than before at the policy which 
 
184 
 
 fJI.EANKK TAI.ES. 
 
 permitted the enemy to Journey back over 24 miles 
 of Cnnadian territory without attempt to liarass 
 him. Lefiving the scanty pay they had received 
 as soldiers, it was arranged they should go lumlxr- 
 ing for the winter, their wages to be sent home as 
 they got them. Th' winter proved a hard one. 
 The presence of so large a body of troops had con- 
 sumed much of the produce the settlers nee<led for 
 themselves, and although, they had been paid what 
 they consi<lered at tlie time good prices they now 
 found it difficult to procure what they wanted fnjin 
 Montreal. The result to the Forsyths was, that 
 their neighbors were unable to give them much 
 help and had it not been that the miller at the 
 Basin gave credit, they would liave been sometimes 
 in actual want. Despite the bareness of the cup- 
 board, the winter was a happy one: the very etfort 
 to endure and make the best of their hard lot con- 
 ducing to cheerfulness. When the snow began to 
 melt, the sons returned, and the new clearing at 
 which the father had worked all winter was made 
 ready for seed, so that more land than before was 
 put under a crop. The pinch was worst in July 
 and until the potatoes were fit to eat. After that 
 there was rude plenty and an abundant harvest 
 was reaped. 
 
 With returning comfort Mrs Forsyth began to 
 fail. Whether it was the effects of the lack of 
 usual food, or the strain to help the family having 
 >)een beyond her strength, signified little. With 
 
MKMI.OCK. 
 
 1S5 
 
 tlie coming of the snow she lie^iin to losr stn*ii<^'tli 
 and, as lier liusliaiid saw with <lrop sorrow, "to 
 •Iwine awa." She accepte<l her lot inicoinphiininj^^- 
 Iv, study iii<^ how to<^iv(^ K'ast trouhlc, ami speiuliu^ 
 lier days hetween her bed and the easy chair hy 
 t!ie tiresi<le, f^enerally knittini^, for she said shr 
 liope<l to leave them a pair of stock in;^s apiece. 
 The New Year liad passed and the days were 
 lenj^thening when it was plain her rest was near. 
 
 It was a beautiful day when she asked that her 
 chair be moved so that she could see out at the 
 window. The brilliant sunlijjht fell on the snow 
 that shroude<l the winding course of the Chateau- 
 i;ay and flecked the trees, while a blue haze hung 
 in the distance that propliesied of coming spring. 
 "A bonnie day," sh# remarked. 
 
 "Ay," replied Maggie, "warm enough to Vje a 
 sugar day." 
 
 "It's ower flne to last and there will be storms 
 and hard frost afore the trees can be tapped, ' said 
 Mrs Forsyth, "an' I'll no be liere to help." 
 
 "Dinna say that, mither; the j^pring weather will 
 bring you round." 
 
 "Na, na, my bairn. The robin's lilt will no wauk- 
 • nme, nor will my een again see the swelling bu<l, 
 but through the mercy o' my God I trust they will 
 be lookin' on the everlasting spring o' the bidin' 
 place o' his people." 
 
 "Oh, mither: I canna bear the thocht o' parting 
 wi' you." 
 
180 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 l\ 
 
 "It's natural to feel sae; my aiii licart-strin;;s 
 were wrun^' when my mither deed, an* yet I set* 
 noo it was for the best. I have become a cumhenr 
 o' the gnin<l, unahle to labor even for an hour u 
 day in the vineyard, and sae the Maistero't is <(()iii' 
 to •^ie me the rest o' which, lan^^ since, I got frac 
 His hand the arles. Ae thing yc maun promise iiu*. 
 Maggie,and that is ye maun never leev your faither. ' 
 
 "What makes you think sae o' me, mother:* 1 
 hav'na even a thocht o' leevin' him." 
 
 "I ken ye hav'na a thocht the noo o' sic a thin;,^ 
 but the day will come when you micht — when your 
 love for anither would incline you to forget your 
 duty. Sweet the drawing o' heart to heart in the 
 spring o' youth, an' the upspringing, when you least 
 expec' it, o' the flow'r o' love. The peety is, sac 
 mony are content with the flow'r an* pu' it an' let 
 the stem wither. Your faither an* I werna o' that 
 mind. The flow'r grew into a bauld stalk in tlif 
 simmer o' affection, an' noo we reap the harvest. 
 It's no like Scotch folk to open their mous on sic 
 maitters, but I may tell you, my lassie, that sweet 
 an' warm as was oor love when your faither cam a 
 coortin', it's nae mair to be compared to oor love 
 since syne an' to this minute, than the licht o' 
 liijhtnin' is to the sunshine. I thocht to hae tended 
 him in his last days, to hae closed his een, an' placed 
 the last kiss on his cauld lips, but it's no to be, an' 
 ye maun promise me to perform what your mithei' 
 wad hae dune had she lived." 
 
HKMI.orK. 
 
 rs7 
 
 •'I promise, motluT; I proiiiisc iu'Vlt to leave 
 
 liiiii. 
 
 "VVeel does he deserve h' you can dae l'(H' him; 
 he's puir, he's liamely in looks, lie's no sae (piick in 
 tliocht or speecli as mony; hut he is what moiiy 
 irivat an' rich an' smairt men are not — ^an honest 
 iiuui, wha strives in a (piiet way to do Ids <luty hy 
 his fellowman an' his Ahiker." 
 
 "Wliat makes you speak so, mother? I am suro 
 I never fjave vou cause to think I'd leave the 
 family." 
 
 "Your hrothers will <r»in<x their ain jj-ate hv-and- 
 hv an' their wives nncht na want to liae the auld 
 man at their ingle; only o* you nuiy I ask that 
 whither you go he shall go an' drink o' your cup 
 an' eat o' your bread. Dinna marry ony man unless 
 >uri' he will be kind to your faither an' let yiMi do 
 a (lochter's duty by him." 
 
 "I hav'na met ony man, mother, that will hae 
 ino, except auld Milne." 
 
 "Dinna mak fun o' me, Maggie; you ken what 1 
 mean. The lad Morton will come some day — " 
 
 "Wheesht, mother: he's nothing to me." 
 
 "I ken different: you loe him deep an' true an' 
 he lues you. Whether he will pit pride o' family 
 an' station aside to ask you to be his wife some 
 wad (loot, but I div'na. He'll be back, an' when 
 he does dinna forget what I have said. " 
 
 The heavy step of the father was here heard 
 '•utside; the door opened and he came in. Drawing 
 
ip 
 
 HKMI.orK. lS7 
 
 "I promise, inotluT; J. promise never to leave 
 liiiii. 
 
 "VVeel iloes lie deserve a' you can <lae for him; 
 hr's puir, he's hamely in looks, lie's no sae (piiek in 
 tiiocht or speech as mony; hut he is what mony 
 i^rent an' rich an' smairt nn'ii are not -an honest 
 iium, wlia strives in a (piiet way to do his duty hy 
 his fellowman an' his .Nhiker." 
 
 "What makes yon speak so, mother? I am sure 
 I never mw'a vou cause to think I'd leave tlur 
 family." 
 
 "Your hrothers will jjanjx tlxMr »iin irate hv-and- 
 liv an' their wives micht na want to hae the auld 
 man at tlieir ingle; only o* you may I ask tliat 
 whither you go he shall go an' drink o' y<jur cup 
 an' eat o'your bread. Dinna marry ony man unless 
 sure lie will be kind to your faithei* an' let you do 
 a (lochter's duty by him." 
 
 "I hav'na met ony man, mother, that will hae 
 iiu\ except auld Milne." 
 
 "Dinna mak fun o' me, Maggie; you ken what 1 
 luoan. The lad Morton will come some day — " 
 
 "Wheesht, mother: he's nothing to me." 
 
 "I ken different: you loe him deep an' true an' 
 ho lues you. Whether he will pit pride o' family 
 an' station aside to ask you to l)e his wife some 
 wad doot, l)Ut I div'na. He'll be back, an' when 
 he does dinna forget what I have said. " 
 
 The heavy step of the father was here heard 
 outside; the door opened and he came in. Drawing 
 
 / 
 
\HH 
 
 (il-KANKIl TALKS. 
 
 a chair licsidc liis wit'<' he sat Jown, ami, without 
 utti'rin^^a word, siirvcycil hrr wast<Ml and I'mrowt.l 
 face witli ^cmhr ^az«*. Slir rctiirmMl his atltc- 
 tionatc h»()k an<l phiccd her hand in his. As slir 
 lookiMl at thciii, sitting in tlu' at'tiTiioon siinsliiiic 
 vvitli clasped hands, and that ra<liant cxprcssioii nf 
 niutiial 1()V<>, Maj^^ic's heart, already full, was like 
 to hurst. She liastened out and t'allin^^ benwitli a 
 
 tree wept hitterly. 
 
 • * • « • 
 
 Next morning when they awoke the sad tnitli 
 became apparent, that tlie mother of the family 
 ha<l had a ehan^^e for the worse in her sleep. Her 
 mind wandered and her strength had completely 
 left. The only one she recognized was lier luis- 
 ])and, and when lie spoke she smile<l. The spells 
 of unconsciousness grew hjnger as the day wore on 
 and towards evening it couhi he seen her last was 
 near. As often liappens in the Canadian winter, a 
 ])et day ha«l been followed by a storm. A pierciu^^ 
 blast from the west tilled the air with drift and 
 sent tlie frozen snow rattling on the window-panes. 
 They were all gathered round her bed, when slu' 
 woke, and her eyes w^)nderingly looked upon theiii. 
 tried to make out what it all meant, and gave it up 
 as hopeless. "Eh, sirs, a bonnie day," she said, as 
 if speaking to herself, "the westlin win' blaws salt 
 frae tlie sea an' the bit lammies rin after their 
 mithers on the liill-side. Sune the kye will He 
 comin' hame an' after milkin' I'll snod mysel', for 
 
HKMK(M^K. 
 
 isn 
 
 soiiirlxHly's cminn' to see soinrlxxly, an' well <1»him- 
 iKT iU)\Ui r\' the ;^l()ainin' hy tin* l>urn. Isiwi hv a 
 comely lad! Stracht an' supph', ami an •'•' in liis 
 ht'id that a bairn wad trust. Tak lunii^ I'd pmj; 
 t>U' the warl's rnd wi' liini... WImt's th/it ! 'i'hr 
 kirk l»ell. 1 «lidna think it wjis sa«' latr. Sure 
 tiit'iicli, tlu'rc's tlu' folk straclilin' own- tlx' muir 
 an' tlio laird ridin;; on Ids powny... Sundy it's 
 ;;ro\vin' mirk. MitluT, tak uw in your airnis an' 
 pit u\v to sh't'p. What will you sin^r to nu-^ Thr 
 FlowiTs o' the Forest, the nicht. niithcr. Kiss nic 
 no(», I'll be a better hairn the njoin an' dae what 
 you tell nie...Na, na, pick yer ain flowers: this 
 poesy is for my bahy brither.. Faither, dinna lift 
 your haun' to nio: I'm sorry. I'll no dae it a^ain. 
 Whaur am I?. ..Faither, dinna you hear me? Oh 
 come (juick an' .save me, the tide is lowpin' fast 
 ower the rock. There's the boatie rowin' to us: 
 it'll )}e here enow an' we'll be saved... Did you hear 
 that? It's Sandy the piper come to the toun. Let's 
 rin an' meet him. ..I'm tired o' datlin' an wad hae a 
 rest. Let's creep into the kirk-yaird an' sit douu 
 by f,'ranfaitlier's grave. Hoc sweet the merle .sings, 
 iin' tak tent to the corn-craik ower yonner...Weel, 
 woel, I canna imderstan' it. His ways are no oor 
 ways, but I'll lippen to Him tae the end. Maggie, 
 Maggie, -whaur are ye? I'm gaun awa', an' I want 
 you to rin an' tell the goodman o' the hoose to hae 
 a chamber ready for me. What am I saying? Go<.l 
 torgie me, my mind wanders; he's had ane waitin* 
 
 ii 
 
190 
 
 rjLEANER TALES. 
 
 for me tliis inony a day... I see you noo, my Ijainis. 
 Ciuid niclit, tae we meet again." 
 
 There was a long silence. The father rose, and 
 close<l the drooping eyelids that would never Ix' 
 lifted and laid down the weaiy head which would 
 never inove aaain. 
 
 1 
 
190 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 for inc tliis mony a day... I see you noo, my bainis. 
 (jiuid niclit, tae we meet again." 
 
 There was a long silence. The father rose, and 
 closed the drooping eyelids that would never he 
 lifted and laid down the weary head which would 
 
 never move agani. 
 
 m^ 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I 
 
 One July morning Mr Forsyth was working in 
 the field beside the river when he saw a canoe 
 shoot in sight. It drew up to the hank and its 
 occupant walked towards him. 
 
 "Man, it is you!" he exclaimed, grasping the ex- 
 tended hand. "At the first look I didna ken vou. 
 Hoo ye hae changed since last I saw you." 
 
 'I know I have," answered Morton, "the months 
 since we parted have aged me more than half as 
 many years would in ordinary course of life. The 
 harc^'^hips of war, the strife between life and death 
 on the battle-field, develop fast what is good or bad 
 in a man." 
 
 "Ye'll hae had your share o' the fechtin?" 
 
 "Yes; our regiment took part in all the move- 
 ments in the Niagara district, and during the cam- 
 paigning season there was not a week we did not 
 exchange shots with the enemy or have to endure 
 a toilsome march to check his plans." 
 
 "And were you hurt at a' ?" 
 
 "Nothing to speak of ; scratches that did not keep 
 nifc off duty over a few days. I may be thankful 
 
 fl 
 
 tii-'-- 
 
192 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 to have got off so well, for many a pretty fellow 
 will never see home again." 
 
 "War's a gruesome trade." 
 
 "It is that: I have seen scenes of horror that I 
 try to banish from my memory. The carnage at 
 Lundy's Lane was sickening, and the cries of thi' 
 wounded for help heart - breaking, for, from the 
 darkness and the enemy's pressing us, we could 
 not reach them." 
 
 "Tho.t brither should butcher brither is awfu' 
 proof o' total depravity. After a', thae Yankees, 
 though their ways are not oor ways, are flesh o' 
 oor flesh, an' we should live aside ane anither in 
 
 peace. 
 
 "In this war, at least, Mr Forsyth, they are to 
 blame. They declared it and if ever war is justi- 
 fiable it is surely one like that we have fought 
 and won, where a people rise to defend tlieir native 
 land against the invader." 
 
 "I dinna dispute you, but as I creep near to my 
 end, my heart softens to my fellow-men o' a' creeds 
 and races and I wish to see peace and good-fellow- 
 ship the warld ower." 
 
 "So do I, but sure and permanent petioe is not 
 to be won by surrender of riglit. It is better for 
 all that the best blood of Canada and Britain has 
 soaked the fields v^rithin the sound of the roar of 
 Niagara, than that Canada should have become a 
 conquered addition to the United States." 
 
 "You're richt in that: the sacrifice is sair, but 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 19.'] 
 
 trial bitter, but a country's independence maun be 
 maintained. Canadians will think mair o' their 
 countr}^ when they see what it has cost to defend 
 it. Noo that the war is ended, you'll be leaving 
 Canada?" 
 
 "That depends on what your daughter says. My 
 regiment sails from Quebec by the end of the 
 month." 
 
 "What mean ye, sir, by Maggie hae'in' aucht to 
 ilae wi' your going?" 
 
 "Simply this, that if she will take me as her 
 husband and you will give your consent, I shall sell 
 my commission and remain in Canada." 
 
 "You are surely no in earnest? What has the 
 liochtero' a backwoods farmer t' dae wi' ar* officer?" 
 
 "Since I landed in Canada I have had many 
 fiilse notions rudely torn away, and one of them is, 
 that there is any connection be' ween worth and 
 station in life. I have found more to admire in 
 the shanty than I ever did in the parlors of the 
 Old Country." 
 
 "That's repeatin' what Rabbie Burns wrote, the 
 rank is but the guinea stamp." 
 
 "I have proved it true: for the first time in my 
 life I have become intimate with those whose 
 living depends upon the labor of their hands, and 
 my Old World notions have melted away, when I 
 found them better than those whose boast it is 
 they never soiled their fingers with manual toil." 
 
 "Aye, aye; nae guid comes o' tryin' to escape the 
 
 14 
 
104 
 
 OLEANEK TALES. 
 
 It r 
 
 II 
 
 first cotnmand to fallen man, 'in the sweat of tliv 
 face shalt thou eat bread.' " 
 
 "What say yoiW" asked Morton. 
 
 "To your askin^^ Maggie? Oh, dinna s[»eak ot. 
 She's my ae ewe lamb and I canna pairt wi' hor. 
 
 "I do not mean you should; we would go in 
 Upper Canada together." 
 
 The old man paused and leant upon his hoe aii'I 
 Morton stood respectfully behind him. After Inn^r 
 silence he I'aised his head. "I canna answer vou. 
 it's no for me to put my ain selfish will agaiiM 
 lier ij-ood; ofan"' and let her choose for herselV 
 
 "Thank you," said Morton with emotion. 
 
 "We liave had a backward spring; frost evciv 
 week a maist to the middle o* June, an' sic cauM 
 winds since syne that naething grows. Wo ha^- 
 sown in hope, but I'm fearfu' there will be little t' 
 i-eap. Sic a spring the auldest settler canna mini 
 o'. Look at thae tatties! What poor spindly thinLr> 
 they are. an' this the first week o' July." 
 
 "It has not been so bad in the west." 
 
 "I'm glad to liear it. Weel, this being the fir-t 
 real warm day we've had, I tellt Maggie to bu>k 
 hersel' and gang and veesit the neebors, for slus 
 been in a sad and sorrowfu' way since her initlu r 
 deed. She said she liad nae lieart to veesit, but 
 wad tak a walk alanof the river and be back t^ 
 mak my denner. Her brithers we expect hani" 
 every ^day from takin' rafts to Montreal." 
 
 "I'll go and seek her," remarked Morton, as h' 
 
HEMI.ncK. 
 
 195 
 
 turnt'd, and tlic old man \v«'nt on liocin*^". Mort(Hi 
 had ;j;()ne about a iiiilc, wlicn his cyo cann^lit tlu' 
 Huttt-T of the linen kcrchit't* Ma^^^ic liad pinnud 
 Kjund her neck. She did not see him and as she 
 siUintered before him, he marked hei* graceful car- 
 iia<fe, and muttered to himself, "A woman worthy 
 to woo and win." Unwilling to startle Jier hy 
 -oiiig too near, he cried "Miss Forsyth." 
 
 Slie pause<l, turned in astonishment, and as lior 
 color came and went said, "Is it you?' 
 
 "Ves, and surely y(ju will not shi-ink from ino 
 as vou did when last we met." 
 
 She held out her hand and as he ])!*essed it. sim- 
 jily said, "I'm <;lad youj'e safe an<l well." 
 
 "Have you no warmer oreetini;- foi* me:*" 
 
 'What warmer do you deservei*" 
 
 "My de.servings are nothing, hut your own kiivl 
 heart might plead for mi'." 
 
 "Oh, dear: the conceit of some men, who thiiik 
 lliey can pick up hearts on the banks of the Cha- 
 teaugay as they would acorns." 
 
 "And what of woniv..: who pitch back rings as 
 it they stung them? ' 
 
 Maggie laughed and replied, "The gift is mon- 
 >ured with the giver." 
 
 "When a gift is a token of the hotir of peril, 
 what then, my lady.' Is it a thing to be scorned?" 
 
 "Soniethiui'' to be restored to the sender when ho 
 nets out of the trap, that he may bestow it un 
 somebody else." 
 
19(3 
 
 OI.EANER TALES. 
 
 "I swear I never cared for anybody else." 
 
 ''Who asked you? It' you must needs contVss 
 you sliould liave visited the fathers at the Basin 
 on your way liere." 
 
 "I'ln Puritan enou^li to desire to conft'ss diivct 
 to tlie one I have offended." 
 
 "So you have offended nie!" 
 
 "You know I care for you." 
 
 "How sliould I ? From your many messages tlit'» 
 last twenty months?" 
 
 Morton felt vexed and Maggie observed and tn- 
 joyed his perplexity. "Come," she said, "it is wnu- 
 m^ on to dinner-time and I know what soldiers 
 appetites are. We had some soldier visitors wIki 
 left us nothing. We will go home." 
 
 "Not until I have said what I want to tell you,' 
 he said warmly. 
 
 "Oh, you have something to tell me! You must 
 have. Soldiers and hunters have always lonj,' 
 stories to tell about themselves. Keep them until 
 you have had some of our backwoods fare." 
 
 " Tease me no more, Maggie ; my heart is yours 
 whether you accept it or not. That I have been 
 neglectful and ungrateful I confess. How mucii I 
 owe you I did not know until some months after 
 I saw you." 
 
 "You owe me nothinor." 
 
 "I owe you my life." 
 
 "You owe it to Hemlock; not to me." 
 
 " I know all, brave heart. I met Mrs Scott at 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 107 
 
 Kiii<;ston and she told me of your jonrncy to Oka, 
 hut for wliich Hemlock woidd never have known 
 (if my peril. As she spoke, the smouldering lov»* I 
 ha<l for you burst into flame and your ima«^e has 
 iH'vcr heen absent from my min<l an hour since. 
 When my con^rades caroused and spoke loosely. I 
 th(ni<(ht of you and turned away and trie<l to live 
 wortliily of you." 
 
 "Vou know how to praise yourself." 
 
 "Xo, no, my Mag<^ie: I speak it not in praise of 
 myself but in proof of my dev(jtion, for how can a 
 man show his lov^e for a woman better than by 
 torcinir himself to live as he knows she would wish 
 liiiii to do^" 
 
 "And if you so loved this somebody of yours, 
 why did you not write her''" 
 
 "You forget a soldier's life is uncertain: I knew 
 not the hour when I might fall. I >aid to myself 
 H tliousand times, if my life is spared I will seek 
 htr I love and plead my cause. When the bugle 
 sounded the call to prepare for action I never failed 
 to breathe an ardent prayer that Heaven's blessing 
 might rest upon you. I have been spared, the 
 Miprenie hour in my life has come, and I await 
 y(»ur answer." 
 
 Maggie stood still. Her eyes fell to tho ground 
 ;ni(J her fingers uneon.sciously plucked to pieces 
 tho flowers they heM. 
 
 "Will you not speak j*" pleaded Morton. 
 
 In a low voice she replied, "I cannot marry." 
 
J 98 
 
 fJLEANEIl TALKS. 
 
 •'Whv:'" 
 
 "I will novel* leave ni}' ffitliei'." 
 
 "J do not ask you should. I value his ]i(»n»>-t 
 worth, and he shall he my father too, for I nevci- 
 siwv my own, he died when I was a child. Sjiy 
 yuu will make me the happiest man on the CIim- 
 teau<^ay and we will never part." 
 
 "I say it is time to <^o and i^et dinner ready. 
 Father, poor man, will he starviniL:^. Mr Mort«»ii 
 did you ever hoe potatoes for a forenoon?" 
 
 "Nonsense; speak the word and end my anxiety." 
 
 "< )h, I'm not anxious. If you had hoed for half 
 a day you would know what huni^er was." 
 
 " My hunger today is of another sort." 
 
 "Ah, well, bovs ouijht to learn to restrain tlitir 
 ai)petites." 
 
 "Play with me no more. Let me know my fati . 
 Ciive me my answer." 
 
 "Won't it be time enough when the ministir 
 asks:*" 
 
 1* ^^ n* n* ^r 
 
 It was not much of a dinner that Macroie cookci. 
 for she boiled the potatoes without salt and frifl 
 the pork to a crisp. It did not much matter, how- 
 e\'er, for of the three the father was the onlv onr 
 who had an appetite, and he did not complain. 
 When done, he left to resume his task, and tli'- 
 young couple were alone. At supper he was ioU 
 all, when he quietly rose, gripped Morton by tli'- 
 liand and said nothing. Next day the two son- 
 
HKMLOrK. 
 
 ID!) 
 
 arriviMl, ami, on loarnini,^ the news, l»y way of con- 
 ^Tatulatioii, sluppod Ma^^gio on tlic back until slu* 
 (l.'claivd it was sore. There wen? hnv^ discussions 
 over Morton's phitis. He told them he had oh- 
 taiiKMl promotion after Lundy's Lane, and as cap- 
 tain his commission was worth a i^n)()d deal; he 
 would sell it, and then, as a retirtMl olhcer, he 
 would he entitled to a <^ra .t of land in Upper Ca- 
 iiiulrt. He proposed they should all leave and ujo 
 with him. 'J'o this father and sons were much in- 
 clined, for tlie fact that the place they occupied 
 was subject to sei<rniorial rent they <lid not like. 
 It was arranged Morton should go to Quebec and 
 M'U his commission and by the time he returned 
 they would be ready to join him. 
 
 Four days after he had left, Maggie received a 
 It'tter from him, enclosinjx one f)*om Mrs Scott. He 
 said he found that Colonel Scott had arrived in 
 .Montreal, and, after winding up some ordnance 
 I'Usiness there, meant to sail for EnL!'lan<l with the 
 Kail fleet. Mrs Scott sent a pressing invitation to 
 Maggie to come and stay with her until Morton 
 returned from Quebec. Maggie went, expecting to 
 stay ten days or so, but her visit lengthened out to 
 the end of August. They were happy weeks, spent 
 ill enjoyable society and in the delightful task of 
 the preparation that is the prelude to a happy 
 marriage. Morton at last got back, and had not 
 merely the money obtained for his commission, 
 hut a patent for a large tract of land on the shore 
 
200 
 
 r;LKANKFl TALES. 
 
 of Lake Ontario, (jbtained hy liiin in a jxTsonal in- 
 torview with Sir Georrre Provost, the gallant Cior- 
 <lon Dnirnmond, his old commander, accompanyiiic^f 
 him and pressing his claim to generous recognition. 
 Leaving Maggie in Montreal, he went again to tlw 
 ( 'hateaiigay to tell all was ready. While there, h«' 
 took a run up to Four Corners, his business hein;^' 
 to visit the poor widow whose only son had Inten 
 slain in the skirmish that led to his imprisonment. 
 lie found her and not only made sure she would 
 he cared for but instituted steps to secure a pension, 
 for congress was considering the ((uestion of relief 
 to those who had sufi'ered by the war. During his 
 stay at Four Corners, lie lived with Mr Dougla.ss, 
 and repaid with earnest gratitude the advances he 
 had made him while living in misery in the stable, 
 which sad abode he looked into with a swellin^j^ 
 heart. On the morning after his return, they v/ere 
 I'eady to embark in the three canoes that were in 
 waiting to convey them and their belongings, when 
 the old man was missed. Morton, guessing where 
 he was, went to seek him, and found him kneelin^; 
 by the grave of his wife. Reverently approachin^,^ 
 he whispered the boatmen w^ere anxious to start, 
 assisted him to rise, and, leaning heavily on his 
 arm, led him to the canoe where he was to sit. 
 One last look at the shanty his hands had built 
 and the fields they had cleared, and a bend in the 
 river shut them out from his sight forever. Resum- 
 ing his wonted contented cheerfulness, he adapted 
 
HEMF.nCK. 
 
 201 
 
 hiinst'lf to the clian^t\ and n)se still ln<^lu'r in Mor- 
 ton's ostt'cni. When tlu'y roachrd tlu' Hasin, tlic 
 wind was favorable for tnc liatran that was wait- 
 iii;^^ to leave on lier trip to Laeliine, an<l there they 
 arrived late in the eveninLf. The followinir morn- 
 in;; Morton left for Montn.'al with Mr Forsyth, the 
 sons remaining to stow away the outHt in the 
 liateau, which done, they also journeyed ^o the 
 siune place. That evening there was a (piiet little 
 party at Colonel Scott's (piarters, and next morn- 
 ing a larger assemblage, for every otticer oH' duty 
 in the town was present, to see the army chaplain 
 unite the happy pair. When all "as over and 
 Maggie had gone to prepare for the journey, Moi'- 
 ton received congratulations that he knew were 
 sincere. "Why," said Major Fitzjames, "she is tit 
 to be a Duchess." 
 
 "She is fit for a more difficult position," inter- 
 jected Colonel Scott, "she has a mother-wit that 
 stands her well alike in the circles of polished so- 
 ciety and in the hour of danger and hardship." 
 
 "Who is this that is such a paragon? ' asked Mis 
 Scott, who had just come in. 
 
 "Mrs Morton." 
 
 "Oh, say she is a true woman, an<l you say all. 
 Mr Morton you have got a treasure." 
 
 "I know it," he replied, "and I will try to be 
 worthy of her. She will be the benediction of the 
 life I owe her." 
 
 The day was fine and, for a wonder, the road 
 
202 
 
 f;[j:ANKK T.vr.Ks. 
 
 I' 'I 
 
 was ^()()(l, so that a larf^t; party, many ot* them on 
 liors«»hack, cseortc*! the iinwly marriiMl pair to Ln- 
 cliiiH'. As tlwy <lrove past Kiii<;'s IV>sts Morton 
 rc'callccl his first visit to it, the spy, and all the 
 ))aint'nl complications that had cnsnrd, and now so 
 happily ended. As they stood on th«! naiTow deck 
 of th(^ hatcau, and the wind, tilling the liu^^e sai!, 
 hore them awnj', a clieor rose, led by Colonel 
 Scott. It was answei'cd from the recedin<»- hoat. 
 and MaLj;<rie waved licr ]ian<lkerchiet'. 
 
 The journev was teclious and toilsome, hut when 
 they sailed into the hay on which Morton's land 
 was situated, saw its (piality and tine situation, 
 tliey felt they had been rewarde<l for con\inf( so 
 far. That Mj-^^gie proved an admirable help-mate 
 need hardly be told, but what was remarkabh' is, 
 that Morton became a successful farmer. Willing 
 to put his hand to whatever there was to do, under 
 his father-in-law's tuition, he ((uickly became pro- 
 ticient, and when there was work to be done he 
 did not say to Ids helpers "Go" but "Come," an<l 
 set them an example of cheerful and persevering 
 exertion. Having land and enough to spare, he 
 induced a good class of immigrants to buy from 
 him, so that, before twenty years, his settlement 
 was known as one of the most prosperous on Lake 
 Ontario. Influential and public-spirited, Morton, 
 as his circumstances grew easy and did not exact 
 the same close attention to his personal afi'airs. 
 took a leading part in laying the commercial and 
 
m:Mr,<MK. 
 
 20: 
 
 |ioliti('al t'cuiiulations f>t' I'pprr ( 'auada, Mini Ma<,'Lii«' 
 lis widoly known in its Itpst sncictv. riiat ihry 
 
 w 
 
 w 
 
 cH' a liappy coiipli' cvrrylxuly knew, and tlirir 
 (Ifsccndaiits ai'c aiiioii^; tlu; most proniiiiriit sultj»'ct^ 
 of the J)()Mnni(>n. 
 
L 
 
 (liar 
 
 ferr 
 
 autl 
 
 vvitl 
 
 and 
 
 plyi 
 
 pro\ 
 
 won 
 
 lies 
 
 Hun 
 
 the 
 
 beri 
 
 prof 
 
 and 
 
 vatic 
 
 Mon 
 
 the 
 
 Thed 
 
ARCIIAXGE AXD MARIE. 
 
 r. — THEIK DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 During the revolutionary war a nuiiiber of Aca- 
 dians left the New England States for Canada, pre- 
 ferring monarchic to republican rule. The British 
 authorities provided for these twice-exiled refugees 
 with liberality, giving theiii free grants of lands 
 and the necessary tools and inipleinents, also sup- 
 plying them from the nearest military posts with 
 provisions for three years, by which time they 
 would be self-sustaining. Some half dozen fami- 
 lies asked for and received lots in the county of 
 Huntingdon and settled together on the shore of 
 the St Lawrence. Accustomed to boatin<; and lum- 
 bering in their old Acadian homes, they found 
 profitable exercise in both pursuits in their new, 
 and after making small clearances left their culti- 
 vation to the women, while they floated rafts to 
 Montreal or manned the bateaux which carried on 
 the traffic between that place and Upper Canada. 
 The shanty of one of these Acadians, that of Joseph 
 
 ji 
 
20() 
 
 riLKAXEll TA1J:s 
 
 ( Siza, oecupicd u ])()int tliat ran into tin; givat ri\('i> 
 near the mouth of tlie LaGiicrre. 
 
 It was a sunny afternoon towards tlie end nt" 
 SepteniV)er and the hik(i-like expanse of the rivt.i-, 
 an unrntiied sheet of glassy bhie, was set in a fnunc 
 of forest already showin^^; tlie rich dyes of autuiini. 
 Jt wa.' :\ scene of intense solitude, for, save the ch ai-- 
 ance of the hardy settler, no indication of lunnuii 
 life met the gaze. There was tlu^ lonely stretch oi" 
 watei* and the all-end»racing forest, and that was 
 :dl. Inlaying around the shanty were two sistti-. 
 whose gleeful shcnits evoked solenni echoes fj-oiii 
 thij <lepths of the forest, for they were engaged in 
 a game of hide-and-seek amid the rows of tall C(;ni. 
 fast ripening in the sunshine. They were aluii(\ 
 for their father and brothers were away boatini: 
 and their mother had gone to the beaver-meadow 
 where the cows pastured. Breathless with thcii* 
 ])lay the children sat down to rest, the head of tlu' 
 younger falling naturally into the lap of the oMci-. 
 
 "Archange, I know something you don't." 
 
 "What is it r 
 
 "What we are to have for supper. Mother whis- 
 pered it to wu) when she went to milk. (kiessT 
 
 "Oh, "U'll me; I won't guess." 
 
 "Wheat tloiu* pancakes. I wish she would coiiir: 
 Im hungry." 
 
 "Let us go and meet lier." 
 
 The children skipped along the footpath that lo<l 
 through the forest from the clearance to the pas- 
 
ARCHAXGE AND MARIE. 
 
 207 
 
 tnre Jind lia'l gone a considernble distanct' bct'oiv 
 their motlier came in sigljt, bearing a pail. 
 
 "Come to meet your motlier, my doves! Ah, I 
 have been long. The calves have broken the fence 
 and I looked for them but did not find them. Ar- 
 change, you will have to go or they may be lost. 
 Marie, my love, you will come home with me." 
 
 "Xo, mother, do let me go with sister." 
 
 "No, you will get tire<l; take my hand. Remem- 
 ber the pancakes." 
 
 "I won't be tired; I want to go with Arcliangc." 
 
 "Ah, well; the calves may not have stiayed far: 
 you may go. But haste, Archange, and find them, 
 for the sun will soon set." 
 
 The children danced onwards and the mother 
 listened with a smile to their shouts and chatter 
 until the sounds were lost in the distance. On 
 entering the house she stirred up the lire- and set 
 about preparing supper. 
 
 The sun set, leavini]^ '^ ti'^il <jf golden glorv on 
 the water, and she was still alone. The day's woi'k 
 was done and the simple meal was ready. Tli<' 
 mother walked to the end of the clearance and 
 gazed and listened ; neither sight nor sound re- 
 warded her. She shouted their names at the hiah- 
 est pitch of her voice. There was no response, save 
 that a heron, scared from its roost. Happed its great 
 wings above her head and sailed over the darken- 
 ing waters for a quieter place of refuge. 
 
 "It is impossible anything can have befallen 
 
208 
 
 O LEANER TALES. 
 
 1 
 
 them," she said to herself; "the calves could not 
 have gone far and the path is plain. No, they 
 must be safe, and I am foolish to be the least 
 anxious. Holy mother, shield them from evil !" 
 
 ReturninfT to the house, she threw a fresh loof on 
 the fire, and placing the food wliere it would keep 
 warm she closed the door, casting one disconsolate 
 look across the dark water at the western sk\', 
 from which the faintest glow had departed. Tak- 
 ing the path that led to the pasture, she hastened 
 with hurried step to seek her children. She gained 
 the pasture. The cows were quietly grazing; there 
 was no other sign of life. Her heart sank within 
 her. She shouted, and her cries pierced the dew- 
 laden air. There was no response. She sank upon 
 her knees and her pi*aycr, oft repeated, was, "Mo- 
 ther of pity, have compassion on a mother's sorrow 
 and give me back my little ones !" 
 
 The thought suddenly seized her that the chil- 
 dren had failed to find the calves and, in returning, 
 had not taken the path, but sought the house by i 
 nigh cu^ tlirough the woods. She sprang to her 
 feet and hastened back. Alas ! the door had not 
 been opened, and everything was as she left it. 
 
 "My God !" she cried in the bitterness of hor dis- 
 appointment, "I fear me the wolf garou has met 
 and devoured my children. What shall I do.^ 
 Marie, my nretty one, wilt thou not again nestle 
 in thy mother's bosom nor press thy cheek to mine.' 
 Holy Virgin, thou who hadst a babe of thine own, 
 
APvCHANGE ANT) MARIE. 
 
 200 
 
 look on mo with compassion and p^ivc back to niP 
 my innocent kinibs." 
 
 Af,oiin slie souj^ht the pasture, and even ventui'ed, 
 at her peril, to tliread in the darkness the woods 
 that surrounded it, shouting, in a voice shrill with 
 ai^ony, the names of the missing- ones, but no an- 
 sworinjif sound came. Heedless of her garments 
 wet with dew, of her weariness, her need of food 
 and sleep, she spent the niglit wandering back and 
 forth l)etween liouse and pasture, hoping- to find 
 thorn at eitlier place, and always disappointed. 
 The stars melted away one by one, the twitter of 
 tho birds was heard, the tree-tops reddened, and 
 the sun again looked down upon her. She re- 
 sumed the search with renewed hope, for now she 
 could see. With the native confidence of one born 
 in tho bush she traversed the leafy aisles, but her 
 search was in vain. There was only a strip of 
 bush to be examined, for a great swamp bounded 
 it on one side as the St Lawrence did on the othei\ 
 and into the swamp she deemed it impossible the 
 children could have gone. She was more con- 
 vinced than before that a wild beast had killed 
 them and dracffied their bodies to its lair in the 
 swamp. Stunned by this awful conjecture, to 
 which all the circumstances pointed, her strength 
 '•'ft her, and in deep anguish of spirit she tottered 
 homewards. On cominfj in s\o-\\t of the shantv 
 she marked with surprise smoke rising from the 
 chinmey. Her heart gave a great leap. "They 
 
 15 
 
210 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 U 
 
 have returned !" she said joyfully. She hasteiK'<l 
 to the door. A glance brouglit back her sorrow. 
 She saw only her liusband and her eldest son." 
 
 "What ails thee? Your face is white as Christ- 
 mas snow. We came from Coteau this moriiin"- 
 and found nobody here. What is wrong?" 
 
 "Joseph," she replied in a hollow voice, "the wolf 
 garou hath devoured our children." 
 
 "Never! Thou art mad. There is no wolf o-arou." 
 
 "I leave it all with the good God: I wish there 
 was no wolf garou." Then she told him of the 
 disappearance of the children and of her vain 
 search. Husband and son listened attentively. 
 
 "Pooh!" exclaimed Caza,, "they are not lost for- 
 ever to us. Get us breakfast and Jean and I will 
 track them and have them back to thee before 
 long. You do not know how to find and follow a 
 trail." 
 
 An hour later, shouldering their rifles, they set 
 forth. The day passed painfully for the poor mo- 
 ther, and it was long after sunset when they re- 
 turned. They had found no trace of the wanderers. 
 They had met the calves, which, from the mud that 
 covered them, had evidently been in the swamp and 
 floundered there long before they got back to soli<! 
 land at a point distant from the pasture. The 
 father's idea was that the children had been stolen 
 l)y Indians. Next day the search was resumed, 
 the neighbors joining in it. At nightfall all re- 
 turned baffled, perplexed and disheartened; Caza 
 
AIlCHANGi: AND MAUIE. 
 
 211 
 
 more confident than before that tlie Indians were 
 to hlanie. After a night's rest, lie set oti' early fur 
 St Regis, where he got no infornwition. Leaving 
 there, he scoured the forest along Trout River and 
 the Chateaugay, iin<ling a few hunting-camps, whose 
 dusky inmates denie<l all knowledge of the missing 
 L^irls. He pursued his toilsome way to Caughufc- 
 waga and came back by the river 8t Louis without 
 tliscovei'ing anything to throw light on the fate of 
 liis children. The grief of the mother who had 
 Iteen buoying herself with the expectation that he 
 would brinij back the truants, is not to be describ- 
 I'd; and she declared it would be a satisfaction to 
 her to be assured of their death rather than longer 
 t ndure the burden of suspense. Again the father 
 left to scour the wilderness that lies between the 
 St Lawrence and the foot-hills of the A<lirondacks, 
 hoping to tind in some wigwam buried in forest- 
 •lepths the objects of his eager (piest. On reaching 
 Lake Champlain he became convince<l that the 
 captors were beyond his reach, and, footsore and 
 l>roken-hearted, he sought his home, to make the 
 "loleful report that he had not found the slightest 
 trace. 
 
 The leaves fluttered from the trees, the snow 
 came in flurries from the north, the nights grew 
 longer and colder, and, at last, winter set in. When 
 the wind came howling across the icy plain into 
 which the St Lawrence had been transformed, and 
 the trees around their shanty groaned and wailed, 
 
A, I .^ 
 
 f;Lf:ANEU TALKS. 
 
 IIm' simple couple drew closer to the l>laziri(( lo^s 
 nn*] tlioni^ht sadly of their loved ones, pinched 
 with cold and hunger, in the far-away wigwams 
 of their heartless captors. 
 
 "They will grow up heathens," murmured the 
 iiiotlier. 
 
 'Nay, they were baptized," suggested tlie father, 
 "and that saves their souls. I hope they are dead 
 rather than living to be abused by the savages." 
 
 "Say not that, my husband; they can never for- 
 mat us, and will watch a chance to come Viack. Ar- 
 change will sit on thy knee again, and I will once 
 more clasp my Marie to my bosom." 
 
 When bedtime came they knelt side by side, and 
 in tlieir devotions the wanderers were not forgotten. 
 
 Time rolled on, and Caza and his wife became 
 ol<l people. Each year added some frailty, until, 
 at a good old age, the eyes of the mother were 
 •closed without having seen what she longed for — 
 the return of her children. The husband tarried a 
 while longer, and when he was laid to rest the sad 
 and stranffe trial of their lives s^rew fainter and 
 fainter in the memories of those who succeeded 
 them, until it became a tradition known to few — 
 ■as a mystery that had never been solved. 
 
 II. — THEIR FATE. 
 
 Archange, holding Marie by the hand, on reach- 
 ing the pasture, followed the fence to find where 
 
AIICHAXCJE AM) MAIUK. 
 
 21:^ 
 
 tlie calves lunl lu'okcn out, and tlion trac»'(l tlicir 
 I'ootpi'ints, which 1('(1 to tht; »m1^c of the swamp. 
 Here she licsitatcd. "Marie, you stay here until F 
 come hack." 
 
 "No, no; 1 will <^() with you: I can Jum]) the wet 
 ]»laces, you know." 
 
 "Yes, and get tiri'd het'ore yon _i;'o far Wait; 
 I'll not l»e loni:- in turnini'' the calves back." 
 
 Marie, howevei*, would not part fr(»m her sister, 
 and followed her steps as she picked her way over 
 the swamp; now walkinj^- a fallen tree and anon 
 leaping from one mossy tussock to another. The 
 calves were soon sighted, hut the silly creatures, 
 after the mannt;r of their kind, half in play and 
 half in fright, waited until the childj'en drew near, 
 when they tossed uj) their heels and ran. in vain 
 Archange tried to head them. C^undjered by Marie, 
 who cried when she attempted to leave her, she 
 could not go fast enough, and when it l)ecame so 
 •Inrk that it was ditHcult to see the sportive ani- 
 mals, she awakened to the fact that she must desist. 
 
 "Marie, we will go honu; and leave tin; calv(!s 
 until moi'uing." 
 
 "But if we don't get them they will have no 
 >upper." 
 
 "Neither will you: let us haste home or we wjll 
 not see to get out of the swamp." 
 
 "There is no hurry: I am tired," and with these 
 words Marie sat down on a log, and, pouting at her 
 sister'... i-emonstrances, waited until the deepening 
 
214 
 
 (iLEANEll TALES. 
 
 <f!ooin alariiKMl A"chaii^(», wlio, f^raspinj^ the Uttlr 
 hand, bc<(an, as sl.f supposed, to retrace the way 
 they had come. Marie was tired, and it now luAwj; 
 d.'irk, she slipped repeatedly into the water, until, 
 exhausted and fretful, she Hung herself on thr 
 hroad trunk of a fallen hendock and Imrst into 
 tears. Archan^^e was now drer^dfully alarmed at 
 their situation, yet it was some time before she was 
 ahle to persuade her sister to resume their journey. 
 They moved on with difficulty, and, after a while, 
 the sijxht of solid fjreen ])ush ri.sinji^ before them 
 (gladdened their strained eyes. "We have passed 
 the swamp!" joyfully exclaime<l Arcnange. They 
 reached the ridge and scrambled up its side. The 
 licart of the elder sister sank within her for she 
 fail^ I to recognize, in the starlight, a single famiHrii- 
 landmark. Could it be that, in the darkness, she 
 nad pursued the reverse way, and, instead of goiny 
 towards home, had wandered farther away and 
 crossed an arm of the swamp ? 
 
 "Are we near home, Archange ? I'm hungry." 
 
 "My darling, I fear w'e will have to stay here 
 until daylight. We've lost our way." 
 
 "Xo, no; mother is waiting for us and supper i> 
 ready; let us go." 
 
 "I wish I knew where to go, but I don't. Wt- 
 are lost, Marie." 
 
 "Will we have no supper?" 
 
 "Not tonight, but a nice breakfast in the morning." 
 
 "And sleep here ?" 
 
ARCUAN(iE AND MAHIE. 
 
 21:1 
 
 "Yes, I will cliisp you and koep you warm." 
 
 **I want my own bed, Archan^e," and the child 
 hrokc down and softly wept. 
 
 Finding a <lry liendock knoll, Archange plucked 
 some cedar brush, and lying down upon it, folded 
 Marie in lier arms, who, wearied and Taint, fell 
 asleep. It was broad daylight when they awoke, 
 chilled and hungry. Comforting her sister as best 
 she could, Archange descended to the swamp, con- 
 fident that they would soon be home. She had not 
 Ufone far, until she was bewildereil. The treacher- 
 ons morass retained no mark of their footprints of 
 the night before, and she knew not whither to g<>. 
 Long and painfully they struggled without meet- 
 innr an indication of home, and the fear irrew in 
 Archange's breast that they were going fprthin* and 
 farther away from it. Noon had passed when they 
 struck another long, narrow, stony ridge, which 
 rose in the swamp like an island. Gladly they 
 made for it, and seeking an open space, where the 
 sunshine streamed throuc^h the interlacinir foliage, 
 enjoyed the heat, as it dried their wet garments 
 and soothed their wearied limbs. 
 
 "If w^c only had something to eat," said Marie, 
 wistfully. 
 
 "Oh, we will get plenty of nuts here. See, yon- 
 der is a butternut tree," and runninrj to it Archanire 
 returned with a lapful, which she broke with a 
 stone as Marie ate them. Tliey satisfied her crav- 
 ing, and laying her head on the sunny bank she 
 
lMO 
 
 r; LEAN Kit TALKS. 
 
 fell asliM'p iVoiii I'litij^iU'. As soon as licr Itrt'atliinij 
 showed that she was sleeping soundly her si«tei' 
 stoh' tVoiii her side to explore the i-id^i! and try to 
 diseover scnne trac(; of the way home. Sh«> foun-I 
 liverythiii^ stran;^!', and the conviction settled, upon 
 her mind that they were lost and that their solr 
 hope of escape was in the searchinL,^-party, which 
 she knew must he out, finding them. Little diil 
 she know that the morass their li;jfht steps liiul 
 crossed would not hear the weij^ht of a man, au'l 
 that ihvy were hoi)elessly lost and doomed to per- 
 ish in the wilderness. Had she hecn alone she 
 would have hi'oken dt)wn; the can; of her sister 
 sustained her. For lier slie would hear up. On rc- 
 turnin<^^ she found her still asleep, and as she bent 
 over her tear-stained face and liij^htly kissed it, slic 
 murnnired, "I will take care of Marie and he lur 
 little mother." 
 
 The thought of home and mother ni«rh overcame 
 her. Repressing the risin<^ lump in her throat, slic 
 husied herself against her sistei''s wakiuir. She in- 
 creased her store of butternuts, adding beechnuts 
 and acorns as well and hroke them and arrani-vil 
 the kei'nels on basswood leaves, as on plates. She 
 drew several hhj- branches towther and covered 
 them with bou<_>hs whicli she tore from the sur- 
 rounding cedars, and when the bower was completf 
 she strewed its floor with (hied ferns. She liinl 
 finished and was sitting beside Marie when tlif 
 little eyes opened and were greeted with a smile. 
 
AIU HANTiK AND .MAMIK. 
 
 2\: 
 
 "Oil, 1 luivc Ik.'cm waiting' ovor so l«)n«j' t'nr v»>u, 
 .Mario. \V(r ai'i* ^oiii';' t() have a iiartv. I liavr 
 liiiilt a liowcr aii<l la'nl out such a nwr sijj)jM'r. We 
 will ()lay at koopin;;' h«>usi\" 
 
 The c'liild lau«_;h(Ml Hi-K.^fully on srciiii;' the ar- 
 liUi'-cmcnts, and tlic i'oi'cst raiiLi* with thrir niii-th 
 ;i*i tli») hours sped im. When cNcuin"^' apjU'oachcd 
 ^hu•io ^rc'W wistful: she \vant('<l hur inothur: she 
 wanted to^o home, and Arclian;^e soothed Iut with 
 [latient care. 
 
 "]jook at the howei*, Marie I See what a. nicr 
 lied; won't you lie down on it :" And what stories 
 you will have to tell mother ot* our ha[)py time 
 her<'. 
 
 Till! child, charme(l hy the novelty, crt'pt in. and 
 laying d(^>wn her curly head fell aslee]) to the croon- 
 iiiLi' of her sister. The stars as they Innin" over the 
 tree-tops gazed downwards in pity on the little 
 .;irls clasped in each others' arms in the sice)) of 
 iiuiocence, and the soft south win<l sighed as it 
 swept by, sorrowing tliat it could not save them. 
 A murmuring was heard in the pine-tops. 
 
 "Must they perish:'" asked the guardian angel. 
 
 "They must; no help can reach them," answered 
 Nature with a sigh. " Unwittingly they havv' stray- 
 
 ed from the fold into the wilderness, these ])ooi- 
 lielpless lambs, and must sutler. Only to man i>" 
 i;ivcn the power to help in such extremity." 
 
 "Can you do nothing?" pleaded tin; angel. 
 
 "Yes; I shall li<ihten their last hours, iiive thei 
 
 ' r>' 
 
 \\ 
 
218 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 :ii 
 
 r1 
 
 a speedy death, and prevent the tooth of ravenous 
 beast or crawling worm touching their pure bodies. 
 Think ine not cruel. I cannot perform the acts 
 allotted to mankind, but am not, therefore, as sonu' 
 deem me, cruel and stolid; my spirit is tender, and 
 what is in my power I'll do." 
 
 Sad of countenance the angel turned and glided 
 to the side of the sleeping children. Stooping over 
 them he whispered in their ears, and they smiled 
 in their sleep and dreamt of home, of dancing on 
 their father's knee, of being tossed to the rafters 
 by their brothers, and they felt the touch of their 
 mother's hand and heard the sound of her voice, 
 and they were very happy. 
 
 ^r ^p ^f ^f ^^ 
 
 When they awoke the song of a belated greybird, 
 perched overhead, greeted them, and they lay and 
 listened and watched the movements of a brilliant- 
 ly colored woodpecker, as it circled the trunk of a 
 spruce. Looking into the face of her sister, Ai- 
 change saw that it was pale and pinched and that 
 her smile was wan and feeble. 
 " Will father be here today?" 
 *'I hope so, Marie; are you tired of me?" 
 "Oh, no; I do love you so, but I do want mother 
 and — and — a drink of warm milk and a piece t)t' 
 bread." 
 
 "Well, perhaps you will get them soon, and we 
 will be happy until they come." 
 
 They rose and Archange busied herself in setting 
 
ARCHANTiE AND MARIE. 
 
 211) 
 
 fortli breakfast, but both, tliounrb very hungry, 
 now loathed the sight of nuts. Wandering, liand 
 in hand, to find something more acceptable, they 
 found in a raspberry thicket a bush with a scant 
 crop of second -growth berries. Making a little 
 basket of the bark of the white birch they nearly 
 tilled it, and returning to their bower, sat down to 
 enjoy them, fashioning out of reeds make-believe 
 spoons and asking each other if they would have 
 cream and sugar. The play went on and faint 
 laughter was heard. When the last berry was 
 i^one, the gnawing hunger re-awoke and the fever- 
 ish heat of tongue and palate, which the acid juice 
 had allayed, returned. Marie would not be com- 
 forted. She wanted to go home; she wanted her 
 mother; she wanted food, and burying lier face in 
 her sister's lap sobbed as if her heart would break 
 and she would not be comforted. Archangfe felt 
 as if she must give way to despair, but she re- 
 pressed the feeling and bore up bravely. The 
 trials and responsibilities of the past thirty -six 
 hours had aged her, and, child as she was in years, 
 she acted like a woman towards her sister, whom 
 she alternately soothed and tried to divert. While 
 leaning over her, in affected sportive mood, some- 
 thing soft brushed past her face ^nd crept between 
 them. It was a grey sc^uirrel. Marie opened her 
 weeping eyes, looked wonderingly for a moment, 
 and then, with delighted gesture, grasped the little 
 creature,and beaming with joy, pressed it to her lips. 
 
 # 
 
220 
 
 r.LEANER TALES. 
 
 "It is Mignon; luy own dear little Mignonl What 
 caused you to run away from nie, you naughty I toy.'" 
 
 It was a tame scjuirrel, Marie's pet, whieli,a weuk 
 before, had scampered off to the woods. There was 
 no doubt as to his identity, for beside its evident 
 I'ecou'uition of Marie, it retained tlie collar of color- 
 ed yarn she had braided and tied round his neck. 
 Hun<^er, home and mother were fori^otten in the 
 delight of recovering her pet, for whom she busied 
 herself in ufettinii; l)reakfast, and he was soon sit- 
 ting before her gravely disposing of the nuts sin- 
 lianded him, (nie by one. 
 
 "Cannot Mioiion o-uide us home ^" she suddenlv 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes; Mignon knows the way; but we would 
 have to follow him over the trees. I am afraid vou 
 could not jump from branch to branch; I know! 
 could not." 
 
 "Oh, I will tie a string to him and make liim 
 walk beforti us," and with pretty prattle she enter- 
 ed into a conversation with the scjuirrel, telling liiin 
 how thev were lost and he was to i^uide them lioiiu', 
 for she wanted to take dinner with mothei*. Mignon 
 gravely listened and nodded his head as if he under- 
 stood it all. Then he i*an up a tree or two by way 
 of exercise, frisked with another scjuirrel, peeped 
 at Marie from all sorts of unexpected places, and 
 ended his capers by jumping on to her shoulder 
 when she was not expecting him, and pretended lif 
 was uonu]: to nil)ble her chin. Marie was delighted; 
 
AlJCHANfiE AND MAKIK. 
 
 221 
 
 Mifi'non Imd diverted lier mind from her snfterinos 
 {in<l Archange assisteil by sugTrestin^ tliey should 
 make a little house for him. Of stieks and reeds 
 tliev framed it and pluekinn^ from the swamp laj)- 
 fulsof ripe cat-tails they lined it with them, makini;' 
 )i nest soft as velvet. This done, they liad to fill a 
 larder for him, and had a great ln;atin<^ for all 
 manner of nuts, and in this part of their work 
 Miii^non took great interest and pretended to assist, 
 tho', despite all warnings from Mai'ie, he persisted 
 ill clasping in his forepaws the biggest butternuts 
 ami running away to bury them in out-of-the-way 
 places. When she became tired with her exertions, 
 Marie took a nap and Mignon curled himself up on 
 her breast and snoozed with one eye open. 
 
 Weak in strenoth and sick from hunfjjer, Archange, 
 no lonojer requiring to keep up appearances, flung 
 lierselt down near by and wept bitterly. Why did 
 not father come ? Were they to die there alone 
 and from want of food ? Should she not try again 
 to find the way home? She stood up, as if to con- 
 sider which w^ay to try, when her head grew dizzy 
 and she sank down and knew no more until she was 
 aroused by Marie climbing over her and kissing 
 lior. She knew by the sun that it w^as late in the 
 Jay, and rising, the sisters walked slowly and un- 
 steadily seeking berries. They found a few onl}- 
 and they again tried to eat nuts. They could not. 
 Tracing the edge of the swamp they looked for 
 Muoberries, but their season was past. Suddenly 
 
222 
 
 O LEANER TALES. 
 
 a low bus]), (lotted with red berries, caught their 
 sight. They found the berries small and of so 
 ])eculiar a taste that, had they not been ravenous 
 for food, they could not have eaten them. They 
 picked the bush bare and went to their bower, 
 where they ate them. A feeling of satisfaction fol- 
 lowed, and Marie grew quiet and contented. 
 
 "Sing to me, Arcliange: do?" and the little miun 
 laid her down to rest and listen. Her sister Siuv 
 one after another the chansons lier parents had 
 Vjrought witli them from Acadia. She ceased and 
 marked the satisfied expression that had over- 
 spread Marie's countenance. Her eyes were closed 
 and her hands folded. "Sin^f the Cedars' son^W 
 she whispered, in the voice of one about to slee}). 
 By that name was meant a hymn Archange bad 
 heard at Christmas tide, when for the first time to 
 her knowledge she had been in a church, havinu 
 accompanied her father to tlie small village of thf 
 (v^edars. She knew not the words of the hymn 
 but had carried away the tune. High and clear 
 I'ose in the air and floated far away across the 
 desolate swamp the song in which so many genera- 
 tions of believers have expressed their love for the 
 Holy Babe — the ancient Latin hymn, Adeste Fid- 
 elis. She san^ the strain over and over a^jain until 
 a strange torpor crept upon her, and her voice grew 
 fainter until it ceased and her head sank beside 
 that of Marie's. 
 
ARCHAXGE AND MARIE. 
 
 22:^ 
 
 i their 
 of so 
 
 ;enous 
 Tliev 
 
 bower. 
 
 on t'ol- 
 
 e nuii'l 
 
 its lia<i 
 >ed ami 
 
 1 over- 
 
 2 close<l 
 
 song 
 
 ?■ 
 
 ,0 slee|>. 
 ere b;ul 
 time to 
 liavinu 
 3 of the 
 hymn 
 d clear 
 OSS the 
 I genera- 
 tor the 
 ^te Fid- 
 Lin until 
 Ice grew 
 bt'sicli' 
 
 All nature was hushed. The remains of trees, 
 long since burned, now gaunt and white, stood in 
 the swamp as sentinels to guard the sleeping babes, 
 and the giant pines, beneath whose cover they rest- 
 i".], seemed to lift up their hands to Heaven in silent 
 pleading. Slowly yet surely the berries of the dread 
 ;;round-hendock did their work; stealthily as juice 
 of mandrake or of poppy. The leaden hours of the 
 long September night passed and inky clouds blot- 
 ted out the stars, and when the sun rose he shot 
 out a shaft of purplish light, which revealed the 
 faces of the sisters, calm and cold in death, with 
 Mignon whisking his head against the whitened 
 cheek of his sweet mistress. 
 
 There was a roll of distant thunder; nearer and 
 nearer it came; it grew darker and the air was hot 
 and stiflincr. The forest <]^roaned, and then there 
 was an appalling crash and a blaze of lightning 
 clad the scene in dazzling sheen. There was the 
 red glow of fire; the bolt had struck a dead pine 
 and instantly the surrounding trees, covered with 
 withered leaves, that caught like tinder, were in a 
 Ijlaze. The storm shrieked, the thunder made the 
 'arth tremble, the rain fell in torrents, but higher 
 and higher mounted the flames. It was the funeral 
 l>yre of Archange and Marie, and when it died out 
 Hut a vestige of them was to be found. 
 
 Ii 
 
 ' 
 
TI 
 
 La- 
 
 iiii<rra 
 
 in Di 
 
 oppos 
 
 ceptic 
 
 they 
 
 liirthj 
 
 for U 
 
 sion ( 
 
 swam 
 
 from 
 
 little 
 
 They 
 
 great 
 
 as cro 
 
 new i 
 
 forest 
 
 placec 
 
 the 
 
THE SETTLER^S FIRST GRIST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I" 
 
 Late in the fall of 1817 seven families of ini- 
 iiiiirrants settled on the banks of the 8t Lawrence 
 in Dundee, close to the St Anicet line and nearly 
 opposite the village of Lancaster. With one ex- 
 ception, they liad come from the Isle of Skye, and 
 they named their settlement after their Scottish 
 birthplace, which was not altogether inappropriate, 
 for tlie strip of territory they had taken posses- 
 sion of was so surrounded on the land side by 
 swamps as to be, in a sense, an island. Apart 
 from two or three of their number who knew a 
 little English, thev spoke Gaelic and Gaelic only. 
 They brought naught beyond strong arms and 
 great endurance of privation, for their training 
 as crofters and fishermen was of little use in their 
 new surroundinfjs. An untrodden wilderness of 
 forest hemmed in their shanties, which were 
 placed on the bank of the St Lawrence, and on 
 the other side of the great river, which here ex- 
 
 16 
 
220 
 
 OLEANEIl TALES. 
 
 iA 
 
 11 
 
 l)aii(ls into a lake two iiiilos in \vi<ltli, wcro 
 their nearest neighbors, wlio had shown tliein 
 the oi'eatest kindness. Hi<jldanders like them- 
 s(dves, the people on the Glengarry side of the 
 i-iver had taken a lively interest in the new- 
 comers, had made hees to give them a fresh start 
 in life; crossed over the river to show them huw 
 to fell trees, build shanties, and make potash, and 
 when spring came had, with true Highland geii- 
 ei'osity, lent them seed and assisted in brushing 
 it in or planting it amid the stumps of their 
 clearings. In the black mould of the virgin soil 
 the potatoes grew with an abundance that sur- 
 prised the Skyemen, though their astonishment 
 was greater at the luxuriance of the Indian corn, 
 which they saw for the first time, and at the 
 excellence of the wheat. When the latter was 
 threshed the next step was to get it ground. 
 Their nearest mill was at Williamstown, in the 
 county of Glengaiiy, and to reach it involved a 
 fatiguing journey. It was a bright morning in 
 the first week of October, 1818, that one of the 
 settlers placed a bag of wheat in a canoe to take 
 to this mill. It was his first grist — the first in 
 his life of wheat — and he looked at the bag, as 
 he depoLited it carefully in the bottom of the 
 canoe, with satisfaction not unmingled with honest 
 pride, which was sharetl in by his wife and chil- 
 dren, who came to the water's edge to see him off. 
 Assisted by his son, a handsome young fellow, 
 
THE SKTTLEKS FIHST CRIST 
 
 007 
 
 tlic paddles were dip})ed, and tlic Ik ■*"• was soon 
 ^kilml^n,^'■ lake St Fi'ancis, for so tlie expansion ot* 
 tli(> St Lawrence between Cornwall and Coteaii is 
 iiiuiied. When lialt'-way across tliey paused to 
 rest, and as tliey viewe<l tlu; noble sheet of water, 
 cinltcdded in a setting' of bush whos(^ brifdit colors 
 flowed in the shiujnierint^ sunshine (jf a true Can- 
 iidiiui fall day, they tlunight they had never seen 
 anvthin^^ moi-e beautiful. "And the best of it is, 
 Allan, that the water is fresh and not salt, and," 
 lixiiiL,^ his gaze on his shanty, which he could dis- 
 irni beneath the trees, "the land is our own, and 
 iliL'i'e will be no rent to pay at Martinmas." 
 
 When they got to the mill they found there 
 were other customers before them, and having to 
 wait their turn, it was nearly dark when their 
 e;inoe passed out of the river Raisin into lake St 
 Francis on their homeward journey. The sun 
 had set behind a cloud, and the lake, thougli calm, 
 hail an oily appearance — both signs of a coming 
 (-'han<Tje. They had <:jone far enouu^h to lose sijjht 
 «)1* the shore they had left, when a slight swell of 
 the waters was notice<l, and innuediately after- 
 wards the lioUow sound of approaching wind. 
 lj')th practised boatmen of the Old World, they 
 knew what these signs meant. "Had we our old 
 hoat, Allan,"' said the father, "I would not care for 
 the scjuall that's coming, but this cockle-shell will 
 ii')t stand a i-ough sea. It may soon blow over. 
 V)uder I think I see the light your mother has 
 
228 
 
 (iLKAN'KR TALKS. 
 
 sot in tlio window to uuidi.' us. We will limrv 
 before tlie waves get l)i«j[." Urged by their sti'ong 
 arms, tlie canoe flew over the lak(\ but swifter 
 came the storm, and before many minutes a violent 
 gust of ;vin<l, accompani(Ml by pelting rain, burst 
 upon them. Like all shallow sheets of fresh water, 
 the lake was quickly beaten into a fury, and be- 
 fore long waves large enough not merely to toss 
 the boat but to drench its occupants were coursiriL,^ 
 over it. The danger of swamping was imminent 
 when the father's skill averted it. Directint: his 
 son to sti'etch himself full length in the bottom 
 of the canoe, using the bag of flour as a pillow, it 
 steadied under the living ballast. Then, taking 
 his place at one Qm\, the father brought the other 
 bow-on the wind and skilfully kept it, by vigor- 
 ous use of the paddle, in a line with the waves, 
 so that the canoe breasted and slipped over them, 
 hardly shipping a drop of water. The fury of the 
 squall soon passed, and was succeeded by a gale 
 which blew" steadily from the w^est. With that 
 fine respect for parents which characterizes High- 
 landers, Allan had offered no suggestion, obediently 
 doing what his father ordered. When he lieard 
 him say to himself "My God, we are lost!" he 
 exclaimed: "No, father, the storm will blow by, 
 and we will then make our way home this night 
 yet." 
 
 "Yes, the storm will blow over, but where will 
 we be then? You forget, my poor boy, that the 
 
THE SKTTI.KUS FIRST fJHIST. 
 
 229 
 
 lake eruls in rapitls, and wo aiv hunyinj^ towards 
 them as fast as wind and wav<^ can <lrive ns. 
 Your mother and your sisters and brothers will 
 have sore hearts tomorrow." 
 
 Allan had not thou<^ht of the rapids. On their 
 way from Montreal he had seen them, watche(l 
 their foaming surges, and knew their canoe could 
 not live a moment amon^j them. The thoujjht of 
 death was bitter to him, and as the hours passed 
 and they went di liting downwards, annd the storm 
 and darkness, towards the jaws of the dreaded 
 danger, his heart was tilled with anguish, not 
 alone for his mothei', his brothers and sisters, but 
 for her with whom he had secretly plighted troth. 
 
 "Allan, I will shout to you when I see the 
 rapids. Jump and try to make the shore, for it 
 may be near; do not trouble with me, or we both 
 may be lost. Be a good lad to your mother, and 
 tell her and your brothers and sisters my last 
 tlioughts were of them." 
 
 ^i 
 
 
 chapte:i II. 
 
 Mrs McDonald had ti<lied up the one and only 
 room of the shanty, and was expecting momen- 
 tarily the arrival of her husband and son, when 
 she was terror-struck by the unlooked for sound 
 of the stjuall among the trees. Hurrying from 
 the house, she stood on the beach, on which the 
 
 ff 
 
2:{() 
 
 (;m:ani:k tai.ks. 
 
 wjives wc'i'u l)(.'u•innill^• to luTak, l»ut tlu- darkiicss 
 Mild rain prevented hei* secini^" many yards. In 
 }jer aL;'C)ny of a])preli('nsion sh" shouted, in tin 
 liO[)e that the niissin^,^ ones wen- near: IVoiii tin 
 stormy waters eame no r<'i)ly. J)iddinL;' \w ehil- 
 (hvn, who h;ul followed Ini-, to ljo and alaiiii tlh' 
 
 dd 
 
 til 
 
 *ttl« 
 
 nei<4hl)(ji"s, vejy soon eveiy soul i\\ the setilciiieiit 
 ^\'as by her side, talking- rapidly in (Jaclie ftn«l 
 exeitedlv sniiui'stinu wluit ouolit to he done. Tlitv 
 wri'e all a<a'e(,Ml that if tlu' canoe was on the lake 
 hen the stoiMn hui'st she was lost, and their 
 
 w 
 
 sole ho[)e was she had not left the other slmiv, 
 '^riie only other canoe they had was no lare-cr thiin 
 the one that was o-one, and to launch it in oi'di r 
 to searcli the lake, would he to add to the cabnii- 
 itv. All that coul(] Ite done was to build a honiiiv 
 on tlie most prominent point, to L^^'uide the iiiissiiiL;' 
 canoe if witliin si^'ht, and hope for the best. Lay- 
 ing' his hand on Mrs McDonald's arm, as she steo'l 
 wistfully gaziuL;' on the now foamin^^ waters of 
 the lake, the oldest man of the settlement sfii<i. 
 "Come with us out of the cold and wet; we cau 
 do no li'ood her(\" (Jathei-ed in the shantv, tin' 
 tire was replenished until it I'oared in the aiiiplf 
 chimney, and the neighhoi-s talked hopefidly te 
 the family and despondently among themselves. 
 When the hope that the storm was only a passinu" 
 S(juall was dissipated b}' its settline- into a ealr, 
 under the influence of wdiich the waves lashed tlif 
 >andy beach with a roar s(j appallino- that it stiHe'l 
 
THK .SKTTrj:KS KIUST (iUlST 
 
 2:J I 
 
 tlu' Liio.iniiHrs of the foi'ost, the lucii MirivtMl anion"' 
 tlii'iiisclvos that McDonald and Ins son were at 
 tht' lottoni of tljt' lake, and tluMi* licaits nrcw i-orc 
 for clios(» whom tluy bidicxcd to Ix' widoW('(l and 
 (>i*phan('(l hy the calamity. Fii^litin;^- with lur 
 fours, Mrs McDonald tried to pcrsnadc licrsclf all 
 would come riMit, and assunuMl a comijlaccncv she 
 
 O 1 V 
 
 \\ 
 
 as far from fetdi 
 
 ni 
 
 'Oft 
 
 en. 
 
 sne remarkr* 
 
 ki 
 
 ,1 
 
 "lias m\' husband been out W(^rse niiihts than this 
 ill Scotland, and surely he who could li^'ht the 
 Atlantic is not <:()in2" to be di'owned in a bit fresh- 
 
 wn 
 
 Vi 
 
 ter loch in Canada. To be sui'e thei'e was a 
 iiiding-shcct in tlw candle last nii;ht, but that 
 (lid not si^^nify, seoin*^- that it wms made fi-om the 
 fat of a wild deer, and not from tliat of a Chris- 
 
 tian sheep. Not 
 
 one of mv 
 
 fan lily 
 
 and it nix-s 
 
 far 1)ack, Mrs Mc(Jillis, ever died without the 
 wraith of Ian JJan, our forbear, who was laird of 
 (llenish, being seen, and it is not to be said he 
 failed to warn me when my husl)and and oldest 
 son were near their end. I am not afraid cf them. 
 They will be here tomorrow — Donald, like a good 
 man, o-o and see that the iire is blazini-- on the 
 point — and we must keep our composure What 
 is that?" 
 Close to the dwellinfr rose a prohjUL-'iMl howl, 
 
 I 
 
 •eo-nnnnuf a 
 
 f> 
 
 t a 1( 
 
 )W p 
 
 ;tch 
 
 d 
 
 1 and risniL'" 
 
 to a 
 
 P' 
 
 ere nil'' 
 
 climax, the sound of which blanched eveiy face. 
 Those neares': the door opened it; none ventured 
 out. Every car was strained. In a few minutes 
 
 
282 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 the howl was repeated. "Pooh!" said a younf^ 
 man, "it is only a w^olf." 
 
 The incident broke the tension of suspense, and 
 one after another began telling stories of their old 
 life in Skye, having more or less bearing on the 
 situation of those they Nvaited for. Thus the 
 hours wore away, and it was noted with satis- 
 faction that at the turn of the nif^ht the finale 
 broke and speedily died away. The waves still 
 ran too iiigh for the canoe to be launched to 
 attempt to gain the other side of the lake and 
 make enquiries, but they were falling fast. When 
 it was agreed it would be safe to go, the settlers 
 again gathered on the beach, which was reddened 
 by the beacon lire that still blazed. There was 
 unexpected delay ; a paddle w^as found to be 
 broken, and another had to be made, and ere all 
 was ready a faint wdiitening of the eastern sky 
 told of the coming day. It was now a beautiful 
 night, calm and still, the glassy swells of the lake 
 reflecting the sparkle of the stars. Many a search- 
 inf)f olance w^as cast across the broad lake for the 
 missing boat, and dreadful apprehensions tilled 
 each bosom as to the secret its dark waters kept. 
 The canoe was about to start, the tw^o men go- 
 ing with her had dipped their paddles, and the 
 group on the beach clustered closer to see her off, 
 when, faint and from afar, came over the surface 
 of the lake a plaintive murmur. Not a word was 
 uttered, but every ear was strained to catch the 
 
THE SETTLERS FIRST GRIST. 
 
 233 
 
 sound. It came again fitfully. Neighbor looked 
 with agony into the blanched face of neighbor. 
 The one idea possessed them, that it was the <lirge 
 of the spirits of their departed friends as they 
 were journeying to the place of souls. The mother 
 impulsively sprang forward until the water laved 
 her feet and cried, "My Allan, my tirst-born, is it 
 you that is calling ? (3h speak to me and tell 
 where in the cold deep I will tind you." 
 
 There was a shriek behind her which froze 
 every heart. A young woman, the winsome 
 (laughter of one of the settlers, had fallen sens*^- 
 less on the sand. 
 
 The patriarch of the settlement who, at the 
 tirst sound, had knelt and placed his ear close 
 to the lake, soon rose in stern reproof. "Is it 
 thus you welcome God's mercy? Your son, Mrs 
 McDonald, and your lover, Flora., for so you have 
 just revealed to us he is, is alive and well. It is 
 Ills voice sino^ine: the boat-son tj of the Isle of 
 Mist, and I hear the plash of oars," And so it 
 was, for now clear and strong came from the lake 
 the words of the song, and soon keen eyes could 
 see the approaching canoe. There was a shout 
 "^ 'py> and tears streamed from every cheek. A 
 few minutes more and the lost were among them. 
 
 When they had re-entered the shanty and the 
 cup of rejoicing had gone round, Mr McDonald 
 told his story. As time passed, and the canoe 
 drifted farther down the lake, he had given up 
 
 •^ 
 
234 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 all hope and expected every inonient to feel it 
 cauirlit in the stronc: current that leads to tlic 
 rapids, and to hear their dreadful sound. "I was 
 praying for you in my heart," he said, "wlun I 
 heard the sound of bieaking water, Allan, I 
 shouted, liere they are at last; make read}' tn 
 jump and swim for your hfe. No sooner sai-i 
 than my paddle struck bottom and I saw tree> 
 before me. Quick, Allan, jump and we will ^Irai;- 
 the canoe ashore. We both sprang out at tlic 
 .same time, and catching liold of the canoe ran 
 her throuo'h the breakers and hii^h on to tlic 
 bank. We were wet and so cold, but, oh, w^ 
 were thankful that we were saved. After a wliiK- 
 we got up and moved round to see if a house was 
 near, when we found that we were on one of tlii 
 small islands that lie at the head of the rapids. 
 A few rods one way or the other and we would 
 have swept past it and been lost. It was OodV 
 own hand tliat had steered our canoe. Well, wc 
 waited patiently till the gale went down, and as 
 soon as we dared we launched out again and 
 paddled homeward. And a long pull we had, but 
 it warmed us." 
 
 The bag of flour was opened. The water had 
 caked the outside layer, leaving the interior (juitc 
 diy. The Hour was examined with interest, hi'm^ 
 the first from wheat grown in the settlement. 
 
 ''Well," exclaimed the patriarch, "it is time w^ 
 were in our beds, though it be now good da^digki. 
 
THE SETTLERS FIRST GRIST, 
 
 2:13 
 
 aiul wo will go to sleep with thankful hearts that 
 our 2'ood iieio'hbor is witli 'js and not at the hot- 
 torn of the lake. And you, Mi*s McDonald, we 
 wish well to, for vou have this niornino- found 
 not only the son that was lost, hut a daughter 
 you knew not of, and a good girl she is too. 
 There is plenty of land here for all, and wc; will 
 build them a house and hold our New Year in it, 
 and, please God, we will not again risk litV; in 
 these French cobbles of canoes, but build a big 
 lioat." 
 And so it came to pass. The New Year beheld 
 
 Fl 
 
 ora an< 
 
 I Alh 
 
 ith 
 
 m made one witli a merry-making 
 
 that became a tradition in the settlement, their 
 
 (11 
 
 eiiirarr 
 
 v^ f 
 
 rien( 
 
 Is d 
 
 rivini'- over 
 
 tl 
 
 le 1 
 
 cy 
 
 I 
 
 )Osom o 
 
 f 
 
 the lake to it in a drove, and bringing two pipers 
 to supply the music, and when spring came a 
 hoat, larii'e enough to carry half a dozen Invj-s of 
 flour, Ituilt after the best Isle of Skye design, was 
 launched in the creek beside the shanty of William 
 
 McPl 
 
 'ear. 
 
 d 
 
 lee, ana servec 
 
 1 the settlement many a lonn; 
 
 if 
 
 ,1 «- 
 
ABNER'S DEVICE. 
 
 "Abner, I want you to go a message for lur 
 after breakfast." 
 
 "Yes, mother. Is it to Four Corners ?" 
 
 "No; you are to go to the Blands, with a baskit 
 for old xMrs Whiting." 
 
 "Why, that's in Canada, and they're our cikj- 
 mies." 
 
 "Our governments are at war, but we old nei<,'li- 
 bors are not." 
 
 "But the Indian guard may catch me." 
 
 "If they do, they'll not harm a boy like you." 
 
 "Yes, they would, mother. They'd scalp any- 
 thing that's Yankee, and I hate them and every 
 Britisher. I don't see why you want to do a 
 good turn to those »vho've been trying these two 
 yea^s to cut our throats and Ijurn our houses." 
 
 "Abner ! ' exclaimed Mrs Smith reproachfully. 
 
 "I want to hit them every time, mother, and it' 
 I liave got to go, you'll let me take fath^ .s rifii'.' 
 
 "No, Abner; you'll go as you are, and if the 
 Indian guard fall in with you, their captain will 
 let you go when you tell your errand. If congress 
 
AHNEIIS DEVICE. 
 
 2.3: 
 
 e our eiio 
 
 Wixnt to fight king George, tluit's not to say we 
 lire to hate and liurt those we have lived beside 
 so long and who've done us many a kindness." 
 
 This conversation took place in the log shanty 
 of a first settler in northern New York in the 
 fall of 1813. War was then in progress, and a 
 few days before General Hampton liad returned 
 from his attempt to reach Montreal, and with his 
 withdrawal to winter quarters the settlers along 
 the frontier supposed hostilities were ended for 
 the season. When war had been declared the 
 settlers on the American side of the lines were in 
 terror of being visited by the Indians, whom the 
 British government had enrolled to watch the 
 frontier, but as time proved their apprehensions 
 ^Toundless, they were little aflfected by the contest 
 that was being waged, beyond having their inter- 
 course with the settlers on the Canadian side re- 
 stricted, and that intercourse had been close and 
 frequent, for the diflference in allegiance had not 
 affected their friendship. In the bush distance 
 ffoes for little, and though five miles apart, the 
 Blands were Mrs Smith's nearest neighbors to the 
 north, and tlieir relation had been of the warmest 
 kind. Unable, owing to the presence of Hampton's 
 camp at Four Corners, to do their trading there, 
 Mrs Smith knew that the Blands must be with- 
 out groceries and even flour, and, at this, the 
 tirst opportunity, she was eager to send them some 
 little comforts to vary their coarse fare, especially 
 
 !!:' 
 
 
 it 
 if 
 
2;]s 
 
 (iLKANKll TALES. 
 
 II 
 
 for Mi's Whitin^;, tlu^ jj^i-andinother of tlit; liousc- 
 liold, who was often hedriddon from rlicnmatisin. 
 
 Tlic basket was ready for Abner by the tiiin' 
 lio liad tlnislied ])reakfast. His inia^nnatiou had 
 been iired by seeini^ the sohliers at fort Hickoiy 
 and at Four Corners, and to carry tlie basket 
 in the usual way was out of the (juestion. Se- 
 curing thin withe-rt)pes, made from the bark of 
 the moosewood, he shing tiie basket on his slioub 
 ders Hke a knapsack, and catching up a cedar pole 
 lie grasped it as if it were a musket, and shoutiii;^ 
 to himself the order, "E3^es front; right foot for- 
 ward; (juick march!" oif he set, fancying In'niselt' 
 one of Colonel Purdy's ci'ack brigade. Mrs Smith 
 as, from tlie door, she watched lier boy depart on 
 his errand, while she smiled at his wayward fancy, 
 could not help feeling a thrill of pride in his litlie, 
 active figure, giving promise of a handsome man. 
 That lie was shrewd and quick-witted, as well as 
 tall and strong, for his years, she well knew. 
 
 The weather had been extremely wet for tlio 
 season; the ground was soaked and the leaves liad 
 long ago been washed from all the trees except 
 the beech. Durintr the niMit the rain had ceased, 
 and the morning, dull and hazy, gave promise nf 
 a dry day. Once out of his father's clearance, 
 xVbner's way lay through the bush. Tliere was a 
 foot-track that led to the Blands, but now it was 
 so hidden by the litter of leaves that it was in- 
 discernible. That did not sijinify. Born in the 
 
AHNKKS DEVKK. 
 
 2:V,) 
 
 woods, thi'y were so familiar that Altiicr could 
 find liis way in any dirL-ction he chose, with as 
 iiiiich ease as the dwellers in cities travei-se their 
 intricacies of streets and lanes. 'As lu; threaded 
 liis way aniont^ the trees, the chatter of the chip- 
 iiiiiiik, the whirr of the partridi^e, and the tappini,^ 
 if a belated woodpecker wei*e the only sounds 
 that fell on his ear, and no sight more unusual 
 than an occasional grey-squirrel or troop of deer. 
 When he had crossed the line that divides Cha- 
 teaugay from Hinchinbrook, and was fairly on 
 Canadian territory, he became UKjre circumspect, 
 ;ind his fancy changed. He was no longer the 
 light-hand man of a file of soldiers, but a scout, 
 >L'nt into the enemy's country to get informati(jn. 
 Keeping under every cover that offered, looking 
 furtively around before venturing to cross any 
 open that came in his way, treading on the 
 hardest ground he could find, and doubling on 
 his track wdiere the soil treacherously retained 
 his footprints, he found playing at Abner the spy 
 much more exciting than that of Al»ner the sol- 
 'lier. Suddenly a crackling sound arrested his 
 footsteps. It was. he knew, no noise made by 
 any denizen of the forest, and he turned towards 
 whence it came. Soon he caught the faint odor 
 
 'f smoke, and then lie knew there was a fire 
 near — probably the camp-fire of the British guard. 
 Prudence whispered to him to turn away and pass 
 
 'H; curiosity, to go and have a peep at the camp. 
 
 
 M 
 
 ; f 
 
 ! t 
 
 ,f 
 
240 
 
 OLEAXKK TALES. 
 
 He was only a boy of fourteen, and curiosity 
 carried the day. Slowly he stole towards the 
 point whence the crackling sound of blazin;^^ 
 branches came, and so noiselessly that even tin- 
 s([uirrels failed to start at his approach until he 
 passed their perch. Now he could see the smoke, 
 and next the fjlare of the embers. He thought 
 he saw the figure of a man, but as, when he- 
 looked again, the shape was gone, he thought he 
 had been mistaken. He paused to listen. There 
 was no sound save the drumming of a partrirjore 
 behind him. Redoubling his caution, he erawle<l 
 towards the spot whence the smoke rose, an*! 
 wlien he slowly lifted his head from behind a 
 thicket, he was startled to find himself loukin^^ 
 into a camp of the dreaded Indian guard, of whom 
 he had so often heard but never seen. There they 
 were, 21 in number, lying prostrate in sleep in a 
 circle around the fire and the pale autumn sun- 
 shine streaming down upon them. Uncouth look- 
 ing men they were, with daubs of paint on their 
 faces that made them hideous. Beside each one 
 lay his musket, and some even, in their sleep: 
 grasped their hatchets, prepared, if surprised, for 
 immediate combat. Their captain Abner recog- 
 nized from his beinor white and wearing: the sword 
 and crimson sash of a British oflficer. With eager 
 eye Abner scanned the unexpected scene, and when 
 the first feeling of fear died away, he grew bold 
 and thought of what he might have accomplished 
 
AHXERS DEVICE. 
 
 241 
 
 had hi>< mother allowe<l liim to take his father's 
 ritlc with liiin. Tlie exploits of Robert Rollers 
 an<l Ethan Allen floated before his mind's eve 
 and he planned liow, had he been arnu'd, \\i\ 
 iiiif^ht have shot the captain throu<(h the heart 
 and have disappeared before any of the sleepin;^ 
 i^roup knew what had happened. Satisfied with 
 till' sight, he moved to withdraw and resume his 
 journey. At the first attempt to turn around, 
 his arms were seized with a grasp of iron, and, 
 looking up, he saw he w^as in the hands of an 
 Indian, whose painted visage glared with ferocity. 
 Appalled for a moment, Abner stood still, then 
 he made a wrench to get away. It was in vain. 
 Drawing the boy's arms together, the Indian 
 ;nasped them by the wrists with his left hand, 
 and when the rij^ht hand was thus rtdcased he 
 thrust it into the folds of his bcdt of wam])um. 
 Abner's eyes follow^ed the movement, and wdien 
 the hand was withdrawn grasping a sliort, thick 
 knife, which he recognized as the scalping-knife 
 he had heard so much of, a paroxysm of teiTor 
 smote him, and he gave a piercing shriek. With 
 a diabolical grin, as if he enjoyed the boy's terror, 
 the Indian passed the knife before Abner's eyes 
 and tried its edge on his soft chubby cheek, then 
 flourished it before plunging into his scalp. As 
 he made the motion, a billet of wood came hurt- 
 Hntr past, and striking the Indian on the head, he 
 tVll, dragging Abner down with him. He was 
 
 U 
 
242 
 
 (iLKANKK TAI.PX 
 
 
 lifte<l up l»y tlio c»\ptain, whom Abnor luid seen 
 asleep a niinute bct'on;, and as he passed his hand 
 over liim to makt; sure lie was unhurt, he poured 
 forth a torrent of anj^ny words, in his own lan- 
 guage, at the Indian, who gave no sign that tlio 
 knockdown blow he had received had hurt him. 
 As the captain led Abner into the circle of In- 
 dians, wdio had been awakened by his shriek, ho 
 told him he had been scolding his assailant for 
 attempting to scalp him, and said in apology tliat 
 he was a heathen Indian of the far west, a Black- 
 foot who had strayed to the Ottawa, and joined a 
 band of the Iroquois. "I do not allow my men 
 to be cruel; my orders be to watch the frontier 
 to prevent invasion by your soldier, and not to 
 hurt anybody." Then he asked Abner who he 
 was and why he had come nigh their camp, and 
 was answered frankly. 
 
 "Ah, my leetle man," said the captain, who 
 spoke Vv^ith a French accent, "if you tell me true 
 you get away; but I'm afraid you carry letter,— 
 despatch — eh!" Taking the basket from his back, 
 the captain lifted out its contents, among which 
 were half-a-dozen apples, then a luxury in the 
 new settlement, where the few fruit trees planted 
 had not begun to bear. An Indian snatched up 
 one and took a bite, laughingly saying, "Yankee 
 apple better nor Yankee bullet." The other con- 
 tents were of as innocent a description : a few 
 little luxuries that might tempt an invalid, a 
 
AHNERS DEVK'K. 
 
 24:? 
 
 small bag of Hour, niul ji bottle of liuiiiitnt. The 
 captain, satisfied tliere was no letter in the basket, 
 carefully replaced its contents, and then examined 
 Abner's clothing, making him evcni take off his 
 shoes. While thus enjj^aofed an Indian slouched 
 up beside the captain and, throwing down his 
 musket, began to speak to him, and Abner listen- 
 ed to the guttural sounds with awe. 
 
 "Dis man," sai<l the captain, "tell me he see you 
 leave clearance and follow you. He say, when 
 you come to Canada side you act as 'fraid, hide 
 behind bush, and walk ve-ray fooney. Why you 
 no want to be seen?" 
 
 Abner blushed at this description of his enact- 
 ing the role of Indian scout and pei-ceived how 
 his conduct could be misconstrued. He remem- 
 bered, also, his mother's repeated injunction that 
 truth is better under any circumstances, and, with 
 a shamed smile on his face, he told what he was 
 doing. The captain grinned as he listened and 
 patting Abner on the back said: "I know; boy 
 once myself and now fadder of four; you play 
 one leetle game of Indian spy, not tinking real 
 Indian watch you. You one good, honest-faced 
 boy. Pity you Yankee." 
 
 The Indian who had tracked him, smiled as the 
 captain spoke, showing he understood English, 
 and, like all his race, enjoyed banter. "You smell 
 smoke, eh?" he said, "hold up nose and go on. 
 Then you hear partridge drum (here he imitated 
 
 '■> 'I 
 
244 
 
 fJLEAXEU TALES. 
 
 tlie sound) me partridge and si^^nal to Joe; Joo 
 steal up behind, catcli arms, pull out knife, yon 
 — Sf[ueal," and here, as if overcome by the ludi- 
 crousness of the scene, tlie Indian f^rinned from 
 ear to ear without emittinf^ a single sound of 
 laughter, and poked Abner in the side. 
 
 "You make big mistake tink you come to In- 
 dian camp without we know," remarked the cap- 
 tain, "when we sleep, sentinel all round like fox." 
 Changing the subject, the captain tried to iret 
 from Abner what he knew of the movements 
 and whereabouts of the American army, particn- 
 larly of the number still in camp at Four Corners, 
 which Abner admitted he had visited the day 
 l)efore. It was without avail. The boy realized 
 the information he would give nn'ght be used 
 against his countrymen, and he answered evas- 
 ively. "Ah, well," exclaimed the captain, "it no 
 matter; we've our spies in your canjp so well as 
 in de bush." 
 
 The Indians were now busily preparing break- 
 fast, and Abner watched them w^ith curious eyes 
 as they placed potatoes and pieces of pork to 
 cook upon the hot embers, while a copper- kettle 
 with tea was slung on a crooked stick. Their 
 duties required them to be on the patrol alont^ 
 the frontier during the night, which accounted 
 for their sleeping so late. 
 
 "Veil," said the captain, "what you tink of dese 
 Indian? Yankee able to catch 'em? Eh? You 
 
AHNKKS DEVICE. 
 
 24.5 
 
 tell, when you <rvt houw, wluit i^reat follow In- 
 dians be. Now you may j;o, and ^ivo Mrs IJland 
 (U' compliment of (^iptain dt; Versailles and say 
 he will do her de honor of taking supper with 
 her." 
 
 Thus permitte*! to resume his journey, Ahner 
 struck into the hush, and in half an hour had 
 reached the house of the Blands. He was hailed 
 with an uproarious welcome from every mend)er 
 of the lan^e household, for there was the delii^ht 
 not only of resumin*^ lonj^-suspended friendly in- 
 tercourse, hut the proof in his appearance that 
 the warfare waged between the two governments 
 had not lessened the goodwill of their neighbors. 
 Unpacking the basket, it was found to contain a 
 little of everything they had \)wn so long deprived 
 from being shut out from the American stores. 
 On the cork being drawn from the bottle of lini- 
 ment, granny declared that the very smell had 
 done her rheumatics oood. As tlui contents of 
 the basket lay spread on the table, a sudden 
 thought seemed to strike Mrs Bland, which she 
 connnunicated in a whisper to her husband. There 
 was a (|uiet consultation, and then she addressed 
 Ahner. 
 
 "We have something strange to tell you, and 
 miun's the word. Night before last, when we 
 were asleep, a knock came to the door and then 
 it was pushed open. Father rose, stirred the tire, 
 and got a light, wlien we saw it was an American 
 
 " 1 
 
 1' 
 
24G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 soldier. He was drenched to the skin, for it was 
 pouring rain, and, oli, what a pale, thin ghost he 
 looked! He crept up to the fire and sank in a 
 heap beside it, muttering, 'Thank God.' I saw he 
 was perisliing, and got some hot drink for him, 
 and after a while he told his story. He had heen 
 with Hampton's army in the battle, where he had 
 I'eceived a llesh wound in the side, and when 
 Purdy's brigade fell back he was unable to keep 
 up with them, got separated from his company, 
 and, in the dark, lost his way. Next morning he 
 tried to find the trail of the army, but failed, and 
 then, guided by the sun, struck south, knowing 
 he would in time reach the States. Too weak to 
 carry them, he threw away his musket and ani- 
 munition, and crawled, rather than walked. When 
 the last biscuit in his haversack was eaten, he had 
 to trust to beech and butter nuts, though he was 
 not huncrrv, for his wound fevered him. Often 
 he lay down, thinking he would never rise again, 
 but lie was young and strong, and when he re- 
 vived a little he pushed on, until, to his great 
 joy, he struck our clearing. He thought he was 
 in the States, and ^^'hen we told him our liouse 
 was on the Canada side he w^as dreadful afraid 
 we would give him up, and he would be sent to 
 Montreal as a prisoner. We soon eased him on 
 that score; our big trouble was to hide him from 
 the Indian ofuard until we could get him sent 
 across the lines." 
 
 Ml 
 
ABXERS DEVICE. 
 
 247 
 
 "Yes, mother," interruptofl one of her sons, "they 
 came to our house tlie next day, and are close hy 
 yet." Abner shivered. 
 
 "Well," resumed Mrs Bland, "I made the poor 
 Yank take oft* his wet clothes and lie down in 
 our warm bed. I dressed his wound for the first 
 time, and it was raw and nasty, I can tell you, 
 and then he fell asleep like a bnby, poor fellow. 
 I cleaned and set his clothes to drv, and as I sat 
 inendinof them next morninir father and I con- 
 suited. To keep him in the house was to give 
 him up to the Indians, and he was too weak to 
 travel farther. Where to hide him until he was 
 able to leave bothered us, when, all of a sudden, 
 father thought of the big platform that stands 
 near the spring in the bush, two aci'es back, 
 which the Indians raised last year for still hunt- 
 ing. It was late in the day wlien lie awoke, and 
 he found himself weak as water but the fever 
 had left him. We told him what we iritended, 
 and, after he had eaten something, father and the 
 hoys carried him to the platform, rollcMJ liim in 
 a blanket and covei'cd him with elm l)ark and 
 cedar brush. We have taken him victuals after 
 <lark, and last night, seeing it was wet, we fetched 
 him over and i^ave him a niiiht's rest in lied, He 
 eats little, for his stomach is turned against our 
 common food, and he'll be olad of what vour 
 mother has sent. Now, Ab, can't you think of 
 some plan to get this poor fellow across the lines^'"' 
 
248 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 i li 
 
 He could not think of any, for the woods were 
 full of Indians, but he would like to visit the 
 wounded soldier. Preparing as tasty a repast as 
 she could out of the victuals sent by Mrs Smith, 
 Abner and Mrs Bland started for his place of 
 concealment. As is their custom, the Indians had 
 raised the platform in a thicket, which connnand- 
 ed a runway, and was therefore well concealed, 
 and, what was of equal consequence at that season. 
 sheltered from the wind. On coming beneath it, 
 Mrs Bland spoke, when there was a movement 
 above, and a face, so ashy pale and wasted that 
 Abner felt a creeping feeling pass over him, peer- 
 ed from beyond the (n]ge. "Here's a boy from 
 Yankeet(jwn and a dinner cooked from the pro- 
 visions he has brought." 
 
 "He's welcome," faintly whispered the soldier. 
 "I wish I could go back with him." 
 
 Takino- the basket in one hand, Abner climlted 
 up to tiie platform with the agility of a sijuirrel, 
 and helped the soldier to raise himself and ar- 
 ranii^e the food. When he saw the wheaten bread, 
 he said it put him in mind of home, and he ffll 
 to and made the l)est meal he had partaken of 
 since the fatal day on the Chateaugay. His 
 streno'th returned with the (T^rateful food and he 
 asked Abner man.y (piestions, what Hampton had 
 done after the battle, where he was now, were 
 many killed, did the British follow him up, and 
 were there many Indians in the woods. When he 
 
ABNEltS DEVICE. 
 
 249 
 
 heard of Abner's encounterinor the Indians that 
 morning, he shuddered, and Abner couhl not help 
 thinking of what his fate would be did one of 
 them ferret out his retreat, a reflection that in- 
 creased his desire to save him. Leaving the sol- 
 dier in a cheerful and hopeful mood, he slipped 
 back to the Blands, puzzling his head to devise 
 some plan of rescuing his countryman. 
 
 After dinner, which consisted of corn boiled in 
 milk, and potatoes with fried venison, the Bland 
 boys proposed to go partridge shooting, and Abner 
 agreed, as he was in no hurry to return home. So 
 oti' they went. In beating the woods, a coon was 
 started, and it supplied the idea Abner had been 
 seeking for. Before they retin-ned home he had 
 worked it out and determined to submit it to Mrs 
 Bland. On approaching the door they heard peals 
 of laughter, when one of the boys remarked, "The 
 captain has come; he's a jolly one with the girls," 
 and on entering, they found that personage enter- 
 taining the family in his liveliest style. Abner 
 bit his lip and saw he must Ijide liis time. Supper 
 is an early meal in the backwoods, and after en- 
 joying it to the full, and diverting and flattering 
 each of the household, Captain Versailles, with 
 many apologies for duty requii'ing him to leave 
 such delightful company, left to return to his In- 
 dians. No sooner had he gone, than Al)ner asked 
 abruptly, "These moonlight nights dont you go 
 coon-huntincr?' 
 
250 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Don't wo, Ab, answered one of the boys, "tliink 
 y(ju'(l say so ii' you saw the skins nailed on the 
 barn-door." 
 
 "Well, then, I've a plan to get the soldier away 
 with me," which he proceeded to lay before them. 
 Briefly it was, that the boys should go with their 
 guns a mile or so east and close to the boundary- 
 line, when they would begin tiring and shouting-. 
 The Indians, thinking it was an attack from 
 Fort Hickory^ would hurry to meet the invaders, 
 leaving the western part of the frontier unguard- 
 ed, and let Abner slip aci'oss with the soldier. 
 
 "It's feasible/' said Mr Bland, "the trouble is 
 the poor fellow isn't able to walk a rod, let alone 
 five miles." 
 
 "He'll die from cold if left out lono-ei*," i-emark- 
 ed his wife; "vre must run some risk. He might 
 be able to keep on the back of the old white mai-e." 
 
 "That's so," answered her husband, "we'll try 
 Ab's plan." 
 
 As no time was to be lost, it beinof esscntifd t<» 
 make the diversion before the Indians were de 
 tailed by Captain Vei-sailles to their posts fur tlie 
 night, the boys caught up their guns and left, 
 while Abner and ^Ir Bland slipped over to the 
 hiding-place of the soldier, told him what was 
 intended, and helped him down from his pei'ch. 
 The prospect of speedy escape gave him unwonted 
 strength, and leaning on his friends he managed 
 to walk to the house, whei-e 31rs Bland, after 
 
ABNEKS DEVICE. 
 
 251 
 
 ilressing his wouik.I, insisted on washing his face 
 and tidying him up. "For sure," she said, "you're 
 l,foing home to your friends, and 3^ou musiii't give 
 Canada a bad name." 
 
 ''That I never will," murmured the grateful sol- 
 dier, "God has anointed the hearts of both peoples 
 with the same oil of kindness, and it's only the 
 politicians and big men on both sides that make 
 trouble between us." 
 
 The evening was calm and mild for the season, 
 and Mr Bland sat listening by the open door. 
 Presently, there burst from a remote corner of the 
 woods, a sharp volley, followed by such shouts 
 and cries as would lead the listener to fancv a 
 tierce fight was in progress. "There they are!' 
 exelaimed ^Ir Bland, while the shots and uproar 
 continued to increase, "let 'em keep that up for 
 live minutes, and there won't be an «ndian within 
 earshot who won't be running to the spot. 
 
 The noise did continue that lonrr and longer too, 
 while, with skilful imitation, it subsided and in- 
 creased, and passed from one part of the woods 
 to another, the cheers of soh.liers mingling with 
 'c lUally good imitations of Indian yells, giving the 
 impression of a running tight between a detach- 
 ment of the American <]farrison and the Indian 
 guard. When Mr B!and consi«lered all the In- 
 'lians had left for the neighborhood of the sup- 
 posed tight, the old mare was l)rought to the 
 'loor, which the soldier was helped to mount, and, 
 
252 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 Abner, grasping the bridle, led the way. By this 
 time the moon was high enough to be pouring 
 down its rays through the tree-tops, and though 
 its light was useful in showing him how to avoid 
 obstacles and to go much faster than tliey other- 
 wise could have done, Abner would have dispensed 
 with it for fear of its revealing their presence to 
 the Indians. His fear was groundless. His de- 
 vice was a complete success. Not an Indian was 
 met, the woods were traversed in safety, and Ali- 
 ner exulted in the thought how he had tricked 
 the Indians, and almost laughed right out when 
 he pictured to himself their disgust, on reaching 
 the scene of the supposed fight, to find it to be 
 only a coon-hunt. If they had trapped hiin in 
 the morning, he had outwitted them in the even- 
 ing;. When the li^ht of his father's house was dis- 
 cerned, Abner relieved his feelings by a great shout 
 of exultation, that drew his parents to the door. 
 
 'Well, Abner, vou see the Indians did not catch 
 you ? 
 
 "Didn't they mother! I feel the clutch of one of 
 'em at my scalp yet. Won't you help the stranger 
 down, father? He is a soldier and wounded." 
 
 "Wounded ! Poor critter, I must ofet the l»ed 
 ready," and Mrs Smith darted indoors. 
 
 Stiff and sore from the exertion and cold, the 
 poor soldier was like to fall when they helped 
 him off the mare, and, gently, father and son 
 carried him to the bed. 
 
ABNERS DEVICE. 
 
 253 
 
 "Poor man, ain't he tuckered out ! ' exclaimed 
 Mrs Smith, as she approached him when his head 
 had been laid on the pillow. Shading the candle 
 she glanced at him, started, looked again, and 
 crying out, "Blessed if it ben't my own brother 
 Bill from Varmont !" she fell on his neck in a 
 paroxysm of hysterical sobs. And so it turned 
 out to be. He had been amonfj those last drafted 
 to reinforce Hampton, and had been unconscious 
 that his sister lived so near the camp at Four 
 Corners. Abner was the hero of the night when 
 the soldier told how he had been the means of 
 saving him. "No," said the lad modestly, "it was 
 .nother's sending me against my will to the Blands 
 that saved you." 
 
 "That's so, Abner, and you never forget it, thao 
 blood is thicker than water, and in doing a kind 
 deed to those you considered an enemy we were 
 servinor ourselves." 
 
 \. I 
 
WHAT A SETTLEU TOLD ME. 
 
 After tlie stiHing heat and blindiiif^ glare of a 
 Canadian sunnner day, it is most refresliing to 
 walk forth as the sun, shorn of its strength, sinks. 
 a ijloNvinjx ball of tire, behind the forest that edws 
 the landscape. Vegetation, wilted by the days 
 glaring heat, revives with the dewy coolness of 
 the hour, and from the neighboring bush comes 
 the song of the greybird. As the glow fades 
 from the sky, nowhere else in the w^orld of ten- 
 derer blue or more translucent depth, the stars 
 drop into sight, and should Venus be in the as- 
 cendant, she burns with a white flame unknown 
 at any other season. Generally, with the setting 
 of the sun, a light breeze springs up from the 
 west or northwest, refreshing to the farmers who 
 toiled throughout the sultry day, and swaying the 
 heads of timothy until the meadows seem to be 
 swept by billows. The eye of the saunterer takes 
 in the scene, passing over the great flat fields of 
 grain and grass, until ended by the recurring belt 
 of bush ; the snug farm-houses set amid shade- 
 trees and orchards; the pond-like reaches of the 
 
A SKTTLKllS STOKV 
 
 255 
 
 Cluitojiu^^ay, sl(M'piii«^^ ix-acefiilly in the hollows 
 of its r()un(K'(l lijinks, unrutHtMl save as tin; wiiii^ 
 of one of the swallows, that skim its j^lassy 
 surface, fijts it for a moment, or from the leap 
 of an inhabitant of its clear waters; and, in the 
 Hnishcd beauty of tlie picture, lie finds it hard 
 to realize that he is looking upon the results of 
 the labor of scarce half a century, that underneath 
 fi few of the roofs before him still live me and 
 women wlio saw the country when a wildtrr <s 
 of forest and swamp, and who are surv;\ rs of 
 the generation who wroujjht the wondrous ^lannre 
 —men and women who underwent priv ^ions the 
 most painful and labors the most exhauscinf^ in 
 makin<^ the country what it is. To give those 
 who have inherited the fruits of their sacrifices 
 some idea of what the first settlers underwent, I 
 here submit the narrative of one of them, as near- 
 ly as may be in the words I was told it: 
 
 You have driven a long way to see me, sir, and 
 I am afraid I can tell you little worth the hear- 
 ing. It is strange you should go to so much 
 trouble to gather these old-time stories, but if I 
 can tell you anything that will be of use to you 
 I am willing. You want me to begin with our 
 leaving the Old Country and go on in order, as 
 you can recollect best that way. Very well, only 
 you will have to come and see me again, for it is 
 a long story, and if you print any of it, you are 
 to change it so that nobody w^ill know who told 
 
 :i: 
 
250 
 
 OLEANKR TALES. 
 
 'I 
 
 yon. I don't mind myself, but some of my cliil- 
 «lren nn'glit not like it. 
 
 We belonf^ed to the Border, and the first sit^^ht 
 that met my eyes every morning was the Eildon 
 hills. My husband was a shepherd and we lived 
 well enough until our family began to grow lari^o, 
 and then we tliought it would be well for their 
 sake to try Canada. We had a little saved and 
 that, with what we got from the roup of our 
 xurniture, paid our passage and plenishing. We 
 sailed from the Solway, into which a big ship 
 from Liverpool called for a party of emigrants. 
 We were rowed out in small boats, and when I 
 got on to her deck my heart failed me, for such 
 dirt and confusion I never saw the like, crowded 
 as she was with 242 emigrants from county Kerry, 
 who had gone on board at Liverpool. This we 
 never expected, but it was too late now, and we 
 had to make the best of it. The sight below was 
 worse than above, and I turned fairly sick when 
 I went down the ladder to our berths; tlie noise 
 was bad enough but the smell was just awful. 
 The mate, a swearing character, was not without 
 a show of decency, and did the great favor of 
 allotting to us Border folks, who numbered nn 
 even six dozen, the row of berths aft the main 
 hatchway, so that we were kept together. V\\' 
 slipped out of the tirth that night with the tide. 
 and next morning, which was a most beautiful 
 day, we kept tacking off and on the coast of the 
 
A SKTTLKUS STOIIY 
 
 257 
 
 Voitli of Irchind. As wr i-ot out on tlic oocjiii 
 I •j-Vi'W sL'a-sick, and for a few days I was lust in 
 iiiiscry; luivini;" to attend tlie cliildrcn yet hai'dly 
 ,ililc to raise my head. Tlic ship's provisions wt-rc 
 -.omty an<l v^ry l)a<l, which did not matter much 
 to us, 
 tilt' I 
 
 for wr had taken 
 
 a L! 
 
 ood deal with us, hut 
 
 M)()V 
 
 Irish, who liad hrou'dit nothini*', were 
 
 always wantin<^ to horrow, and as we, not liavin*^'' 
 more than enough to serve ourselves, had to refuse, 
 ihcy ahused us for heinc;- proud, and tried to pick 
 juarrels, hut hoth the Scotch and Eui^disli of us 
 kt'j)t our tempei's and gave them no ottence. Thi^ir 
 jealousy and ill-feelin^• orew, and one morninuf they 
 landed tot^etlier to ])revent our Li'ettinLi' hot water 
 
 at tl 
 
 le o-allev 
 
 This we could not stand, for tlie 
 
 water was ha<l and only tit to di'ink when hoiled 
 !\n<l made into tea or o'ruel. The captain I'efused 
 tl) interfere, hein*^* afraid, we thought, of having 
 tiduhle with the Kerrv men, and when we told 
 the mate he only swore at ouv lads for a cowardly 
 lot of sheep-tenders. When dinner-time came, our 
 men got out their crooks, and, going ((uietly on 
 'leok, formed in a colunui and, lavinir ahout them 
 rii^^ht and left, cleai'ed a road to the galley. There 
 wt're fearful threats made, but nothinii' came of 
 tlit'iii, and after that we were respected and left 
 alone. 
 
 The ship made little headway owing to tlie wind 
 keeping in the west, and it was on the eighth day 
 '»f our voyage that it Ijecame known to us that a 
 
 IS 
 
 m 
 
2o.S 
 
 (JI.KANKU TALKS. 
 
 Avoinan, who luul hccn ;^ick for souio i'uwo, was ill 
 ol' the tV'ViT. On that dny she >^ot delirious mipI 
 lirr ])eople could not liide the truth lon^'er. Knur 
 of tlir oldest men of our pai'ty were sent to trll 
 the captain. He made lii^ht of tlu'ir news uml 
 said thev wore mistaken about the disease, hut In 
 refused to conui and sei^ tlu^ woman or ^o cicct 
 a partition across the hold to separate us from tlic 
 rest of the passengers. We took his treatiin'nt 
 sore to heart. When ship-ownei's <;«3t his ])ass}int'- 
 inoney, they don't care wluit ))ecomes of the poor 
 emio-rant, and would just as soon he would die 
 on the voyage as land him. We went to slccj* 
 that night sad and tViglitened, for we knew, liy 
 reading the papers, what ship-fever meant. Well, 
 next (hiy the woman was worse, and on the even- 
 ing of the third she died. We were all anxious 
 tluit the corpse should be buried at once, so that 
 the infection might not be spread by it, and twu 
 of our folk, taking some things tluxt might lie 
 useful in preparing the body, went o\'er to vIhtc 
 it lay to advise that that be done. The poor 
 creatures got angry at once, and drove them hack, 
 and cursed us for a set of heretics, who would 
 put the decent woman out of sight without wak- 
 ing her. They laid the corpse on top of some 
 chests in the centre of the ship, surrounded it by 
 candles, and then the keening began, which drove 
 nie nearly into liysterics. The captain, hearing 
 what was going on, sent down a keg of rum, and 
 
A SKTTI.KKS STnllV 
 
 250 
 
 iiwide matters worse. Towanls inortiificf, wIu'Ti 
 
 the (li'ink liJid taken ettuct, they l)0<,o»ii to (|uarrel, 
 
 >ui<l the noise and confusion was ten'il)le. There 
 
 Itciii^ no pai'tition, W(^ could see the wlioh* h'H^Mi 
 
 of the hoM, with tlie rows of hei Ihs on eitlier 
 
 side, and towards tlie far end, in the middle of 
 
 the ship, was the white lieap form«'(l hy the corpse 
 
 and li^dited by camUes, with the women sittini; 
 
 r^round it, wailino- in the most unearthly wav, 
 
 mid takini^ no heed of the men and children who 
 
 swarmed outside' of them, talkin;i(, shoiitini^, ])ush- 
 
 ini;, and ti<;]itinfj. A candle was knocked down 
 
 and tliere was a cry of fire, )>ut an old woman 
 
 smothered it with lier cloak. As we could not 
 
 sleep, and were afraid they mi<^ht come to our 
 
 end of tlie sliip and <;ive us trouble, we went on 
 
 deck to wait till all was over. It was a cold, raw 
 
 morning, with not enough of wind to keep the 
 
 ship from pitcliing, but anything was l)ettei' than 
 
 lieing below. When the eight o'clock bell struck, 
 
 the Ii'ish came swarming up, bearing the c<jrpse. 
 
 Tliey rested it awhile by the bulwarks, when all, 
 
 even to the smallest child, fell on their knees in. 
 
 prayer. Fhen it was lifted over and let e'rop into 
 
 tlie ocean. The sailors would not help, keeping 
 
 hy themselves on the forecastle, for they were 
 
 afraid of the infection. As four days pn^sed 
 
 'vithout a new case, we were beginning to hope 
 
 the danger was passed, but on the tifth three 
 
 children took ill, and before the week was done 
 
 Pi 
 
200 (iLEAXER TALES. 
 
 there were 17 down. After tliat the disease lia<l 
 its own way, and deaths ))ecanie so frequent that 
 it was impossible to li(jhl wakes. We pitied tli- 
 poor creatures, and <>ave more than we could spar*' 
 to help them. The worst want of the sick wa> 
 water and thoui^h it smelt so that a horse would 
 not have touched it and not worth the savini:, 
 for there was plenty on board such as it \va^. 
 the captain would not order that the allowance !••• 
 increased, but he encouraged the steward to sell 
 liquoi", in tlie protit of wliich he shared. I can- 
 not begin to tell you of the scenes we had tu 
 endure; it was of (Jod's mercy that they did imt 
 take away our senses. If the sliip was dirty he- 
 fore the fever broke out, it was worse now, and 
 the smell, as you stepped from the deck, was likf 
 to knock you down. Nol^; of our folk, with one 
 sorrowful exception, took the disease, which was 
 not considered strange by the Irish, for they ac- 
 counted the taking away of the sick, especially 
 of the young, as a sign of favor by the saints. 
 wh) carried them to glory. Tlu) exception was 
 n)v husband. When about to I'aise a tin of te,i 
 to his lips one morning, he saw a child l(>okinif 
 at him from her berth with such entreating eye-, 
 that he went over and held the vessel to the giil> 
 mouth. When she was satistied, he drank v.hat 
 was left. Three days after he complained of ;i 
 racking headache, which was followed by a chill. 
 after that the fever set in. Just because he wa> 
 
A SETTLERS STOllV 
 
 2G1 
 
 qicli a lu.stv man tlie disease went hard witli him, 
 iind on the tenth day ot* his ilhiess I saw tliere 
 w;i> no hope. It was in the afu^rnoon as I sat 
 liy him, listonini;" to hi.^ ravin<j^s, tliat he sudd('nly 
 sat up, and pointing' to the sliat't of sunshine that 
 poured down tlie hatcliway into the <larl«: and 
 litutlisome liold, lie said, "It fa's on the Cheviots 
 and ghnts on tlie Tweed e'noo: let me bask in't 
 once mail"." We cai'i'ied him over find laid him 
 tlie sunli<2fht. The delirium left him, and a 
 
 111 
 
 sw 
 
 o 
 
 eet smile came to his face. "Hae ye onx'thinii" 
 ?' I whispered in his ear. "No, Mailic," lie 
 
 to say 
 
 answered softly, "I am ((uite lia])py an' feol the 
 "i-ip o' mv Saviour's han': (Jod will he wi' \'()U and 
 tho hairns." He never opeiie*! his een mair, l)ut the 
 
 >ini 
 
 le 1 
 
 in<rered on 
 
 his li 
 
 ills nil 
 
 til th 
 
 le sun hei-an to 
 
 sink, and as he felt the n'low leave his cheek, lie 
 nuittered, 'It's growin' late and the nicht will l)e 
 ower cauld for the lammies: I'll ca' the ewes f]-ae 
 th(? knowes," and so saying he slipped awa wi' the 
 (Jreat Shepherd o' the Sheej) to the lown \ alley 
 
 and the still watei- 
 
 Thouiih mv sorrow was like 
 
 to rive my head, I kept my composure, for there 
 
 .1 
 
 )tl 
 
 imi nothiiiii' can excuse 
 
 was work to be done 
 neglect of duty. I preparetj him for burin 1, and 
 when all was ready, an old friend, a brother shep- 
 herd of my husband from ji boy, gave out the 
 !H)th psalm, and when it liad been sung, he read 
 the 14th chapter of John, and ofiere*! up a most 
 soiil-sti-iving prayer, so that, when the cor[)se was 
 
202 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 lu 
 
 lifted, there was not a dry cheek. We followed 
 as it was carried to the deck. The ship was on 
 the banks of Newfoundland, an<l the ocean was a 
 dead cahn, tlie new moon lighting up the thin 
 haze of mist that lay upon it. I had wrappcij 
 my iiusband in his plaid, and thrust his crook 
 leno'thways th.rouHi the outer fold. HoldiuLC each 
 an end of it, two of the strongest of our men 
 swung the body well out from the ships side. 
 As it disappeared I felt that my love for man ;is 
 wife had gone with it, and suc^; a sense of deso- 
 lation came over me as words cannot tell. 
 
 Fi\e days after we came to (juarantine, wht'ie 
 the sick were landed, and, just tive weeks ami 
 two days from the time we left Scotlan<l, we 
 sailed into Quebec harbor. We were a small 
 and heartbroken handful. Our chests had been 
 broutifht on deck and we sat on them, waitini>' for 
 the steamer to come alongside that was to carry 
 us to Montreal. None of our folk had asked hw 
 what I was going to do, and I knew the reason. 
 It was not that they were unwilling to help me, 
 but because they had more than they could do b) 
 mind themselves. They felt for me sore, but they 
 could not take the bite out of their own children's 
 mouths to give to mine. Indeed, there was hardly 
 one of them who knew what they were going to 
 do, for they ha<l come to Canada to seek ni'W 
 liomes on chance. I had had my own thoughts 
 and had marked out what I would try to do. 
 
A SETTI.ElvS STORV 
 
 203 
 
 'Tliere's the steauier; ufct ver buirns tlu'i^itlier 
 and I'll look to yer kists." 
 
 It Wcis n liard-favortMl man that spoke, a slicp- 
 lienl nanu!(l Braxton from Cumberland, who all 
 the voyajjce had hardly said a word. Glad of his 
 help I followed him. He l)oni(ht milk and bread 
 for US when the steamer called at Three Rivi'rs, 
 hut never sayini^ auij^ht until Montreal was in 
 siidit. 
 
 'What beest thou i^aun to do?" he aske<l. I 
 said I was i^oing- to bide in Montn-al and try to 
 ;ret something to do. I was strong and had a pair 
 of ii'ood hands. He iiave a kind of snort. 
 
 "Ye canna mak eneugh to keep tive bairns; ^-r'd 
 hetter come wi' me." 
 
 "Where till?" I a.sked. 
 
 "I dinna knaw yet, but I'se get Ian' somewhere 
 near and ye'se keep house for me." 
 
 "Are ye a single man?" He noddt'd. I sat 
 thinking. He w^as a stranger to me beyond what 
 I had seen of him on the ship. Could I trust 
 hiia ? Here was a home for mv children in the 
 iinanwhile. For their sake would I do riirht to 
 ivfuse the otter? My mind was made up, and 
 1 told him I would <n) with him. 
 
 'I canna otter thee wages," he said. 
 
 "I <linna ask anv." 
 
 "Very well," he replied, and no more was said. 
 
 By this time they had yoked the steamer to a 
 string of oxen, which helped it up the current into 
 
204 
 
 fJLEAXElt TAKES. 
 
 |i 
 
 tlie luu'ltor. hikI in couisc ut' an liour we were in 
 S;iii(l\' Sliriw's tavc'i"ii. In unsWi.T to J-Jraxtoii, tin 
 
 fa^v 
 
 landlord told him of there hcin^- l)Ush land 
 to 1)1' had near to tlie city. Next day at sunri'^i 
 he left U) see it, and it was after dark on tin 
 thii"<l day wlien lie came hack. Me had not ;i lot 
 on the Chateaugay, and we wei-e to stai-t \'ny it 
 
 eai 
 
 ' .. 
 
 y ne 
 
 xt d 
 
 ^^y 
 
 I had the ehildi'en di-esscd sodii 
 
 after daylii^'ht, and the three yoinii;est I'ode on tlir 
 French cai't that was hin-d to take our cliest> t" 
 Lachine. The rest of ns l'ollo\ve(l on font. ii 
 was a tine niornint^', but very warm, and ihi- loan 
 Was deep with dnst, which the v/irnl r,iis«-d in 
 clouds like to clioke us. When we gou to Lficliiih' 
 ei'e disappointed to fiinl that the ferrvhoat 
 
 WC! A\' 
 
 ippoi 
 
 was tniahle to leave her wharf owiny' lo the strong' 
 win<l l)lo\\inL;" down the lake and which had I'ai^i '1 
 a heavy sea. We SJir i-u our hoxes audi spent a 
 
 wearv <lav, mv 
 
 head '■ i-i^' .just like to split with 
 the heat and the shoutinii' and iablieriuL!' of tli'' 
 
 bat 
 
 eau men. 
 
 There vrere several hinidred euii- 
 
 orants waitinii' besides oui'selves, foi- the Durluun 
 boats could not start until the wind chan^-ed. W*' 
 could 11' tt o-et a l>ite to buv, for the Canadian^ 
 were afi-aid of us on account of the fevei', aii'i 
 tliey had reason, for amoni;' those ^\■aitin^• wcrf 
 many who had been siek of it, and there weiv 
 son>'' AN ho were so white and \vaste(l that y'l 
 would say the hand of ileath was upon tlieiii. 
 Towards sunset the wind fell and the lake ,u'"t 
 
A SETTLEK S STOIIV 
 
 2(i.") 
 
 CfiliiKT, SO tlu-' ferry )»Orit starti-tl. }\vv pn<Ml('s 
 wi'i'i' not (li'ivcn ])y ;i stcfUii-cnu'iiH' l>ut 1»\' n ]y<uv 
 of lioi'ses, wliicli went round and round. It was 
 
 '•oini'" 
 
 to 1 
 
 )e moon 
 
 li-lit, 
 
 so When we we 
 
 re l)Ut otK 
 
 ( ) 
 
 ;it the Basin, we tlioui;]it we would pusli on t 
 Reeves's, for it would be Cooler tliaii to wa^k 
 iifxt d;iy, and we lui^iit tliei'el)}' catcli the eanoes 
 Hi'axton had l)es])oke. A cart was hii'e(l to convey 
 eiir chests and the younu'ei" children, and we set 
 
 dtt'. We Li'ot aloilL!" yrVV well foi' ilhoilt tl\e liiilcs. 
 
 wlifu we henrd distant thundei-, and half an hour 
 after the sky was clouded and we saw a storm 
 
 won 
 
 ■>L'Ver 
 
 Id 
 al 
 
 soon 
 house 
 
 hurst. We knocke<l at tlie doors of 
 
 but 
 
 noi 
 
 le would let us in. A> 
 
 soon as the habitants saw we wei'e emiL^rants, 
 tliev shut the door in oin* face, beini'' afi'aid of 
 the fever. When tlie rain beoau to fall, the' boy 
 who was driving" lialted beiieatli a clum}) of trees 
 
 >v tl 
 
 u' river sKK 
 
 1( 
 
 ai 
 
 id I not under the cai't with 
 
 the chihh'en. It just poured for about ' df an 
 lieur and tlie liiihtninu" and thundei* wert .eai 
 
 ■ful. 
 
 so- 
 
 We were soon wet to the skin, and I felt so d( 
 late and lonesome, that I di'ew my shawl over 
 iiiv head, and, hui'"i>'ini'' mv youne'cst c did to my 
 Ixjsom, liad a o'ood crv. Those boi-n here cannot 
 understand how castdown ami solitaiy ncwcomei's 
 ffel. For months after I came, the tear ^\•oldd 
 ■tiirt to my eye whenever I thou_L;ht of Scotland. 
 Well, the stoi'm passed, and the n\oon vame out 
 1 liuht in a clear sky. It was nuich coolei", but 
 
 V«i| 
 
 tl 
 
200 
 
 GLEAXKR TALES. 
 
 the roads were awful, and we went on, sli])))in^r 
 at every step or splasliini^ throujicH niud-liolt s. 
 Had I not been s(j much concerned alM)ut tlif 
 children, I could never have got through tluit 
 niglit: lielping and cheering them made mi; t'oi'Lj-tt 
 my own weariness. It was getting to be dayliuht 
 when tlie cart at last stopped in front of a loiii; 
 stone house, in wdiich there was not a soul stii'iin^'. 
 tliougli the doors were all open. Th(.' boy pointed 
 us to where the kitchen was and tui'ned to un- 
 yoke his horse. I found foui* men sleeping on 
 the fiooi', who woke up as we went in. Tlu'V 
 were French and very civil, giving up the buffa- 
 loes they had been sleeping upon for the childnii. 
 1 sat down on a rock i^ig-ch air, and fell nt oncv 
 asleep. The sound of somebody stamping past 
 woke me with a start. It was the master of the 
 house, a lame man, whom I found out after to \r 
 very keen but honest and kind in his w{\y. It 
 was well on in the day, and breakfast was on 
 the table. I was so tired and sore that I couM 
 liardlv move. Braxton came in and asked if w' 
 were able to q-o on, for the canoes would be readv 
 to ?tart in an liour. I was determined he should 
 not be iiinOi'red by me, so I woke up the childivn, 
 wash '.» aiid tidied them as 1 best could, and then 
 we ha breaivfast, which did us a deal of good. 
 There \ ere two canoes, which were just long tiat 
 })oats, with two men in each to manage them. 
 Our baggao^e and ourselves were divided eiiualiy 
 
A SETTLERS SToRY 
 
 2(1 
 
 )i 
 
 lii'tween them, and we stai'ted, everytliin;^ lookintj^ 
 most t'resli an<l beautiful, but tlie inos<[uitoes were 
 perfectly awful, the children's faces swelling' into 
 lumps, and between them and the heat they ^ri'W 
 fretful. For a lonj^^ way after leavinj;- Reeves's 
 there were breaks in the bush that lined the river 
 liuiks — the clearances of settlers with shanties in 
 fi'uiit — but they <^rew fewer as we went on, until 
 we would go a loui^ way without seein*;" anythiiiL,^ 
 liut the trees, that i^rew down to the water's ('dure. 
 (lettin<^ round the rapids was very tiresonje, and 
 it was late in the day when the men turned th«; 
 canoes into a creek and pulled up alon;^side its 
 west bank. This was our lot and when- we were 
 to stav. Placin<j[' our boxes so as to form a sort 
 uf wall, the canoemen felled some small cedars 
 for a roof, and, ligl«tin<^ a tire, they left us. I 
 watched the boats until they were out of sight 
 and the sound of their paddles died away, and 
 then felt, for the first time, what it is to be alone 
 ill the backwoods. There was so much to do that 
 I had no time to think of anything, and the chil- 
 dren were happy, everything being new to them. 
 The ketile was put on and tea made, and we had 
 our first meal on our farm — if you had seen it, 
 with the underbrush around us so thick that we 
 Could not go six rods, you would have sai<l it 
 never could be made a farm. 
 
 We slept that night under our cover of cedar 
 Uishes and slept sound. In the morning Braxton 
 
2GS 
 
 fiLEAXKU TALES. 
 
 and my oMfst lK)y started down tlic track, \\>v it 
 was no road, tliat i'oUowcfl tlu' l»aidv oi' tlic Clui- 
 tcauLiav, to s(H' it' tlic settlers l)el()W wonld IkIm 
 to raise a slianty, and wliile tbey wei-e i^one T <lii| 
 my l»est to L;('t tilings into order. For all 1 l:;i(l 
 come tlii'oHi'li, there was liiilitness in mv li(;irt. 
 foi' there is a freedom and hopefulness in H\iii^' 
 in the woods that nothini;' else seems to 'j^'w'r oik . 
 and I made child's l)lay of discomfoi'ts that woiil-l 
 have disheai"tene(l me had I been told of tlidn 
 liefoi'e lea\in:'' Scotland. It was nii-h noon win n 
 Bi'axton came hack. He had heen made \\-eI('oiiir 
 CN'ervwhere, all wej'e i-lad to have a new neii-iilioi', 
 and the pronnse !.;iven that ^\()rd would he s»iit 
 to all within reach to come to a bee next (la\'. 
 After diinier he took the axe and tried his luui'l 
 at choppino-. He beoan on a tree about half ;i 
 i'oot thick and was nicking" it all round, we Idok- 
 ing on and admiring. 
 
 "Yell kill somebody with that tree," said ;) 
 voice behind us, and tui'uing, to our astonishimiit 
 ^ve saw a tall woman, in a poke-bonnet, looking' 
 on. Explaining that it was necessary to kn<»w 
 how a ti'ee would fall, she pointed how any direc- 
 tion could be secured l)y the way it was choppi'd, 
 and, seizing the axe, she showed how, and, under 
 her strokes, the lirst tree fell amid the shouts of the 
 childivn. She was the wife of our nearest neigli- 
 boi-, and, on hearing of our arrival, had come over 
 to see us, "Being real glad," as she said, "to have 
 
A SETTI.KKS STOUV. 
 
 2(;o 
 
 a woman so ncai'." She stayrd an lioui*, and after 
 iiiiiliug out all about us, sli<)\v«'(l uic jiow to <lo a 
 iTcat many thiriLCs needful in laish-life. Anioui'- 
 tilt' rest, liow to make a smu<lL;'e to })rotect us fi'om 
 the m()S(|uitoes, wliich was a real eomfort. 
 
 Next morning' six men came and spent the day 
 in clearing" s])ace for the shautv and in makinii; 
 lo^^'s for it. The day after, Hraxton with two of 
 the men went to Todd's to huv hoards and I'afted 
 tliciu down the river. On the third day the rais- 
 ini;' took place, and that ni<^dit, th()Ui;'h it was not 
 tmished, we slept in it, and proud we were, for 
 tlie house as well as the land was our own. It 
 W(is (juite a while Ijefore Braxton could finish it, 
 for there was more pressing" work to do, and for 
 !i month and more our only door was a blanket. 
 The tire was on the hearth with an open chinmey 
 made of poles covered with clay. And here I 
 iinist tell of my first ti'ial at baking. We had 
 lii'ouiiht a h'cVj; of flour and, once established in 
 uui' shanty, I resolved to make a loaf. As you 
 know, in Scotland there is no baking of bread 
 in the houses of the connuonality, and though 
 nobody could beat me at scones or oat cake, I 
 had never seen a loaf made. I thought, however, 
 there was no great knack about it. I knew hops 
 Were needed, and sent one of my boys with a pail 
 to bon'ow some from my neighbor, who sent it 
 hack half full. I set to work, and after making 
 a nice dough I mixed the hops with it, and mould- 
 
270 
 
 (JLKAXKll TALES. 
 
 cmI a lont*, wliicli my oldest son, who lia<l soon tlic 
 process while visitini,^ round, undertook to huk.'. 
 He ])ut it int(> a Dutch oven, or cliauih'on, hikI 
 lieapini;- hot aslies over it, we waited for an hour, 
 wlien the chau(h';)n was taken out and tlio cover 
 lifted. Instead of a nice, well-raised loaf, then- 
 was at the hottoni of it a flat hlack cake. "M?ivl>e 
 it will taste hetter than it looks," says I, thrustiui; 
 a knife at it, hut the point was turned, and \v»' 
 found our loaf to he so hard that you could iinvr 
 broken it with a hannuer. And the taste I It was 
 hitter as oall. Well, that was a good lesson to 
 nie, and I was not above asking my neighlxjrs 
 after that aiiont matters on which I was ignoi'unt. 
 No sooner had shelter been provided foi- us. 
 than we all turned to with liearty will to clear 
 up a bit of land. My boys were a great help, 
 an<l the oldest got to be very liandy with the axe, 
 wliich was well, for Braxton never got into the 
 right liang of using it, and spent double the 
 strength in doing the same work my boy did. 
 There is (juite an art in cliopping. It was ex- 
 hausting work clearing up the land, being (piite 
 new to us and the weather very liot. Often had 
 Braxton to lay down his axe and bathe his head 
 in the creek, but he never stopped, working from 
 dawn to darkening, and when it was moonlii;'ht 
 still longer. I helped to brush and log, as nuich 
 to encourage my boys to work as for all I could 
 do. When ready to burn, three neighbors came 
 
A SKTTLKIIS STOIIV. 
 
 271 
 
 til sliow us how to (io it uiul, the lo^s iM'intr ljir<fo 
 and full of sap, it whs a slow and laborious jol> 
 Tlu' UK'U looked like Blackamoors, itciuii- Mackcr 
 tliau any sweeps, fi'ouj smoke and the cmkum that 
 iiilthed off' the Icx'S, while the sweat just rolled 
 down them, owiui;' to the heat of the tires and 
 the weather. We came on to our lot on the 2nth 
 of May and it was w(dl on in June when the 
 iviiiains of the lo^s were handspiked out of the 
 Wiiv and the i^round was kind of clear between 
 tliL' stumps on half an acre. Jn the ashes we 
 [ihuited potatoes, and a week after, when a hit 
 iiioie land was taken in, we put in a few more. 
 This done, we turned to make potash. Except 
 alttUii' the creek there was no timber on our lot 
 tit for makiuiT ashes but on its banks there was 
 u fine cut of swale ehn. The cho|)pin<^^ of the 
 trees was the easiest })art of the work, the i^'ettin^- 
 of the loufs touether and burninij^ them beinjx ditH- 
 cult, tlie underbrush beini;' very thick and we so 
 short of help in handlin<^ the felled trees. A 
 nt'ighbor showed us how to make a plan-heap and 
 skid logs, but from inexperience we did not work 
 t(» much advantage that sunnner. We, however, 
 wrought with a will and kept at it, even my 
 youngest, Ailie, helping by fetching water to 
 •Irink. Young people nowadays have no idea of 
 what work is, and I don't suppose that one in 
 twenty of them wouhl go through what their 
 fathers and mothers did. Although it was a dry 
 
,.^.. 
 
 vH^ ^^ v^\^ 
 
 y] 
 
 n 
 
 /: 
 
 ^> 
 
 '^? 
 
 
 7 
 
 # 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 ^ 1^ |2.2 
 
 " lis |2£ 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 
 
 4it 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 « 
 
 4U^^ 
 
 
 <^ 
 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. U5B0 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 >'^' 
 

 \ 
 
 5^ 
 
 O^ 
 
30G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 
 
 says he, "an tliin you 11 hev to f(o as a passcn^ar 
 in the steamboat that takes emij^rants ri^ht on to 
 Montreal." "1 11 never ^fo on nn emigrant steam- 
 boat," says I, minding the one I had seen. He 
 spoke in French to two men near us. They livcil 
 aV)Ove Beauport, he told me, an<l while tli<y 
 came, like himself, to l)ury the dead for big pay, 
 they broke the rules by going home at night, wlun 
 wind and tide served, in a small boat. If Id help 
 them to get done, they would let me go with them. 
 The job was like to make me sick, but I wanted 
 away, and agreed. By this time they were be- 
 ginning to carry the dead from the sheds and 
 tents, and as the men with the stretchers came 
 up they dumped their load into the trench. \\v 
 straightened the corpses to make them lie close, 
 shovelled .some lime over them, and then a few 
 inches of earth, wlKin we were ready for another 
 row. Then the trench was filled and smoothed 
 over. I had put on my coat and was cleaning my 
 sliovel when one of the Frenchmen touched uiy 
 arm and I followed him. We slipped into the 
 bushes and went to the north side of the island, 
 meeting nobody. At the foot of a steep bank wti 
 found a boat. We got in, and casting loo.se the 
 tide, which was making, carried us up until we 
 were a good bit from the island, when a .sail was 
 hoisted and we went at a great spee<l, for the ti<]e 
 had brought with it a stiff breeze. On landing I 
 did not follow the men, for I had .something to do 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOKROW. 
 
 :J67 
 
 I Imfl on mj^ mind. I stripped to tlio skin, and 
 spread my clothes on the bushes, (Joints into the 
 water I ruhV)ed my handkercliief and shirt an<l 
 washed myself as I liave never done since. I 
 scnibhed iny skin with the sand an<l sni tied the 
 water up my nose until, for the first time, since 
 morning, I got the stink out of it. It was such a 
 warm night, I was in no hurry to put on my 
 clothes, and didn't till I thought they were well 
 aired. I may tell you, from the moment I hurie<l 
 my nephew, the fear of the fever came upon me, 
 though I had never thought of it afore. Well, 
 when I was ready for the road, I felt sick, hut I 
 knew it was with hunfjer, for I hadn't broken 
 liread since morning. Coming to a habitant's 
 house, the door of which was open, I went to it, 
 hut when they heard my tongue, they slamme<l 
 the «loor in my face, taking me to be an escaped 
 fever patient. Seeing it was no use, I walked as 
 i|iiickly as I could to Quebec, and made for the 
 lodging-house I had left that morning. There was 
 ft light in it, though I knew it must be long past 
 midnight. I went in and there were some sailors 
 tlrinking and playing cards. The landlord lifted 
 his eyebrows when he saw me, and signed me to 
 follow into a back room. He lit a candle "Were 
 you at the island?" "I was, and am right dead wid 
 hunger." He brought some victuals and I told 
 him how I had got on. Wlien I had cleaned the 
 plates he showed me to a bed. I rose late next 
 
 
 F 
 
 li 
 
 . ■^t,ff'^^'*-'H??fe.-. , 
 
IM)H 
 
 (i I.KAN Ell TALKS. 
 
 day all rii^ht, and Icffe with tin; stcandioat that 
 at'tcinooii for Montreal. Tlic second <lay at'to I 
 was lionu' and tluinktul my wife was to sec mr. 
 1 held my whisht, and never a one Init hcisi If 
 knew whej'e 1 had heen. 
 
 Well, that is all I have to tell. For a lon^- wliilc 
 after, the sights I had seen followed nie, and at 
 ni<rht I would wake trendilinj^ from niv tlreams. 
 That ])assed away, hut 1 never care(l to speak of 
 what 1 saw, and tried to keep the island and its 
 sheds out (jf n»y niin<l. Did any die of the I'cvt r 
 in Huntin(^don;' Yes, l)r Shiri'iti* told me he at- 
 tended 45 eases, of whom 5 <lied. Not many wrif 
 Irish. Kmiorants strayed into farmers' houses 
 and uave the infection. Father Kiernan was that 
 year priest in the old church at John Film's, lie 
 luid g'one on duty to attend the enn';^iants at 
 Lachine. Feeling* ill one day he knew he was in 
 for the fever. If In; stayed where he was, he would 
 die in the she<ls, so he waited till the staw caiiit' 
 along, got in, and rode liome. When lie got oti'at 
 liis Uxlging, he told the people (jJeoi'die Pringle did 
 not know wliat kind of a customer he had. Next 
 day he could not lift his head, hut he pulled 
 through all right. What came of the colleen:* She 
 left us that fall. Her mother's hrother in county 
 Kent wrote for her. She married a storekeeper 
 in Chatham, who left her well off. The little hook 
 is all I took belonging to my ne])hew. There were 
 more things in the bag. I was afeared of the in- 
 
THE SUMMER OK SOllKnW. 
 
 m9 
 
 fcf'tion an<l never toucluMl thcjii. He must Imve 
 !i;iil a chest or two, ])ut I never aske«l for them, 
 lit' was a j;<)o«l man, ami I've heen thankful evir 
 >ince 1 went to see him die. 
 
 Drivinjr jjome in the <lai-k I thoui>ht ovei* wh,\t 
 the old man had told me, and felt how much moie 
 iuterestinir his narrative made his nephew's diary, 
 I faithful reprint of which I now present to the' 
 ivader. 
 
 
 '45 
 
:J70 
 
 (;m:a\kk talks. 
 
 TIIK .loriJXAl, <»F CKIIALh Ki:K(iA\. 
 
 "Tljc famine was hoavy u])(>n all the land." Ac- 
 CMjnlini;' to the t-hronoloj^ists inoi-c than tlu'cr llmu- 
 sand ycai's have ))ass('(l siDce the event iccoidtil 
 in these woi'ds. Sti'anu;*' that, at'tei' so lon^- a 
 period of time has i^one, the world has m;i(|i' >!• 
 slii«ht an advanee in ])i'o\idin<r food for tlif 
 mouths it contains. At school todav then- \\ii> 
 not a scholai' who was not huTiiiTv. When I t'lM 
 Mike Kellv to hold out his hand for hlottiuL-- \\U 
 co])y, he says, "I did not mane to: it wa> tlir 
 btdly e'ripc did it." J di'o])])ed the fciuh' ainl 
 when the school was dismissed slijiped a penny 
 into his hand to Ituy a scone at the hakers. TIm 
 p()(jr school J have had this winter takes the h» art 
 out of me. My he-st sdiolars dead, others unfit 
 to walk from their homes foi- weakness. For imii 
 and women to want is had enough, hut to li;i\'' 
 the children stai'sini"-, crvinu" for the food tl:<ii" 
 parents have not to ^ive them, and lyini"* aw.ikf 
 at niL»ht fi'om the <niawin<r at their little stomach^: 
 oh, it is dreadful, (lod foryive those who havf it 
 and will not share their abunrianci^ even with Hi> 
 
THK SlM.MKi: i.l' SOKUOW 
 
 :i7l 
 
 little ones. T cainc lioiiit* from school tliis attt'i'- 
 iioon (l«'j('('t('(l jin«l (l('s|)airin<^. As I lookrd roiiiul 
 iiic lu't'oiHi opciiilli;' the dooi" ot* liiy lod^inu'. rvi ly- 
 thiiiii" was i-adiantlv hcautil'id 'riic sunshine icst- 
 1(1 on t\]v liloi'v of Ireland, its luxuriant ve<^etation 
 — its eniei'alil iri'eenness. Hill and \allev wer<» 
 alike Id-illiant in the tii'st flush of sprint- and the, 
 -.ilver river meandei'ed throui^h a ]>lain that sul;*- 
 .,''('sted the heautiful fields of ])ai'adis('. Appear- 
 iinces ai'e deceitful, I tliou«Jcht: in evei'V one of 
 those thatche(l cahins sit the twin l»rothei-s, Kam- 
 iiif and J)eath. As 1 opentMJ the door, Mi's 
 M(»riarty called to nie that my uncle .leremiali 
 hud heen twice askine* foi' me. Pool* man, I said 
 tit myself, lie will have come to horrow to l»uy 
 iiit'al for his children and I will not ha\'e a shillinn; 
 in my ])ockct untd the hoard pays me my ((uai'ter's 
 
 alai 
 
 y 
 
 1 respect Jeremiah, foi- hoth he and hi? 
 
 lirother in Canada were kind to my poor mothej*. 
 Mow 1 wish all the familv had jjone to Canada; 
 
 ('1(1(1 in winter an* 
 
 1 hot 
 
 \u sunnnei- 
 
 tl 
 
 H'V sav 
 
 hut 
 
 there is plenty to eat. I took up a hook and had 
 not hnv^ to wait for my uncle. He did not need 
 to sav a word, liis face toM me he knew what 
 starvation meant. 1 called to my landlady to 
 roast another herriui^: my uncle would share my 
 'linuer. He came neither to heii' nor hoi'row, hut 
 to ask my advice. Aft(;r hi^li mass on Suiuhiy 
 the proctor fi^ot up on a stone and told them their 
 hiiidlurd had taken their case into consideration. 
 
:\72 
 
 (;lean'eu tai.ks. 
 
 nrnl wont on to irad a It'tter lie Iwid ^ot from liim 
 In it Lonl Palnicrston said lie liad l»econu' cun- 
 \ inciMl then^ was no hope tor thcin so lon«^^ as tiny 
 ivniaincd in Ireland, an<l their only means ol' dojuu 
 hetter was to leave the conntrv. All in ai rears 
 who would a^ree to eiui^i'ate, he would I'tr^ivf 
 what they were due and pay their passage tn 
 (yanada. Are you sure, 1 asked, this letter \va> 
 really from Lord I^almcrston:' 
 
 "We have just the proctors word for it, Wrll,' 
 my uncle went on to say, "the most of us juniiud 
 wid joy when we heard the letter and we all 
 he<^an talk in as soon as he druv atf in his cai\ 
 Tim Maloney said nothin. He's a deep one, Tim, 
 a pathriot, an rades the papers. What hev vf t< 
 say, Tiir.? I'm considerin, says he, the likes o' t]ii> 
 must he deliberated on. Sure, 1 spakes up. tin 
 besht we can do is to get away from here. In 
 the wan letther 1 iver j^ot from njy brothei- in 
 Canada, he tould me he had two cows and a eali 
 and three pigs, an a pair o' oxen and as nnicli a> 
 they could ate. That's not the pint, answers Tiin 
 this affer prisints itself to me as a plot to get u> 
 to lave the land widout an equitable e(|ui\aleiit. 
 
 With doubt thrown on the landlord's good faith 
 the poor people went on arguing among them- 
 selves, unti' a majority decided to stand out ami 
 demand better term.s. On hearing this, the agent 
 sent word thev must decide within a week. It 
 they rejected the offer, it would be withdrawn ami 
 
THE sr.MMEIl OK SoUUnW 
 
 ;{7:i 
 
 .'<> 
 
 ,11 
 
 )in IK'W one would Ik' sulnnlttcd. Mv uncle lia<l 
 IMC to i;'ct my a<lvicc, "For sure, " lie said, 'you 
 V the only scliolanl in the i'aniily. " I couiprc- 
 hcndcil the intaiiious nature of the otter. 'I'hc 
 |it()ple (lid not own the land, l>ut they ownc<l the 
 iiiiproveiiients thev liad made on it, and had a 
 rinlit to he coinpensab'd for them. I knew my 
 uncle when a hoy had I'cnted a piece of worthless 
 l»(>i,^ and hy the laltor of himself, and afterward^ 
 .)t" his wife, and children, had converted it into 
 !i jtrotitahic fi(d<l. ShouM 1 advise him to ^ive it 
 lip for a receipt for hack rent and a free passanrc 
 to Canada? I ti'ie<l to find out what he thought 
 himself. Arc you for accepting the offer, uncle:' 
 'That depinds," lie answeivd. "(Jive me a cro]) 
 
 .f 
 
 had 
 
 m 
 
 tl 
 
 le ou 
 
 Id ti 
 
 mes, an 
 
 01 spuus sucn as wc 
 niver a step wad 1 muv." 
 
 I told him potatoes had heen the I'uinof Ireland: 
 tliat placing" sol(> dependenc(^ upon them had made 
 htr farmers neirlect the proper care of the lainl 
 
 ;UM 
 
 1 th 
 
 e raisnio- o 
 
 f otl 
 
 101* 
 
 prope 
 ;r()p> 
 
 When the rot 
 
 (aiiie or even a har<l frost, such as they ha<l in 
 1(S*J7, when potatoes froze in the oround, tliey had 
 
 nothi 
 
 nir 
 
 My 
 
 •\ 
 
 uncle was a sample or nis class 
 
 f h 
 
 d) 
 
 The lessons of Providence had heen lost upon 
 tliem. Th(;y would «>o on planting'' potatr)es and 
 liopinf]^ for days that would never return, for the 
 land liad become, by years of cropping-, ])otato 
 Mck. Now, uncle, that Tim Maloney has had time 
 k)i' deliberatinir, what has he decided on? 
 
n74 
 
 (Jl.KANKIl TALKS. 
 
 
 •§i^ 
 
 t'^T! 
 
 "I mit Iiiiii jit ()'( alai;lians Inslit ui^'lit," i<'|)li..l 
 iiiv uiicic, "ail lie touM us to rrjict the atti-r ;iii 
 jiiic tli«' \'nimn' Ir<'I'iii<l iiiin. Tln'rc'll uivci* Im- 
 jx'acj' ami pliiity in Ireland, scs \\v, initil slit's 
 
 "May 1>«',' 1 i-rnnirkcd, "lait ymi ami your family 
 will l)«' (lead tVoni star\atiun 1m fore 'I'ini and hi- 
 friends free Ireland." 1 east the matter over and 
 ovei* in my head while w<' were eatim^ oni- hitf 
 of dinner, lait could not decide what ad\iee to 
 i^dve my uncle and those who were j^oini;" to i.,- 
 t»ovi'rned hy what 1h' did. Kscape from the dread- 
 ful conditions under which they suti'eied would 
 he a i^-reat hlessini^. On the other hand, mv sens,. 
 of what was fail' revolted at the idea of their 
 j^iviiii^ up thi'ir holdings, their homes for u^eiiera- 
 tions, for a nominal consideration. When my 
 uncle I'ose to <;•(), for he had a loni^ walk hefnre 
 him, I said I could not decide then: I wouhl think 
 it over and on Sunday I would 2^0 and sec them. 
 
 When Sunday came, I rose early, and let myself 
 out (juietly. It was a misty, sogi^y niorniniL''. I 
 stepped out (juickly, for I had a good way to go. 
 The walking was heavy, so when I canie in sight 
 of the chapel, I .saw late comers liurrying in for 
 liigh mass. At the altar, to my surprise and joy. 
 I saw my old companion, Tom Burke. When the 
 sermon came it was like his old self, strong and 
 bold. He compared the afflictions of the people 
 of suffering Ireland to those of tlie Israelites in 
 
rm: sim.mku or soiuimw 
 
 I] 
 
 <') 
 
 Kuvpt, asrriliin;; tlw t*Miiiinr to tlir nlit'ii '^nvcrfi- 
 
 llHllt, wllicll WMIltrd to wi|)(' tlu'lM tVnIii tlic t*nc»' 
 
 m1" the t'artli. It W(>nl<l j»r«>\r »is f'utilr as all |)ast 
 |M rsccutinus «!ir('ctr«l n^niinst tin- Iiisli rare, wliich 
 would contiinu* to clicri^li tluir t*Mitli au<l tlicii- 
 IdVi' oi' coiintrv. H<' canitd iiir awav with liiin. 
 Itiit liis lii'arcrs listciUMl with countruancrs stoliil 
 
 iikI hravv 
 
 It 
 
 was 
 
 the I 
 
 lUnLnT 
 
 tl 
 
 U'V (•( 
 
 Milil tliiiiK 
 
 <\' nothiiii-- hut thcii' ciaviiii-- foi- food. Katlur 
 Ti>m had noticcMJ me, for when I nas ^^^oitiiL,^ imt at 
 thr door the man whispcriMi to inc to step into tin* 
 xjicristy. i'assinjL^ the woi-d with my uiich', that 
 I would h(! at his house in tlu' afternoon, I joined 
 luy old fellow stu<lent, who would have me to 
 itreak my fast with him. Me had come on tem- 
 jxn'ary duty, and I went with him t<> the priest s 
 liouso. Over the tahle we recalled old times at 
 Maynooth and W( re livini*" those happy <lays over 
 Miiain with jokt* and story, when our lau^fhter was 
 clu'cked hy the housekeeper conjing' in to say if 
 we were done with our dinner Mrs Muitaoh was 
 wnitinjjf to see for what his reverence wante<l her. 
 Send her here," he onlered. A broken -<l()wn 
 woman, ha<^i^ard and in ra<(s, stood at the door. 
 ■() ye have couje, hav(? ye, Mrs Murta<(h." 
 
 "Yes, yer rivirence; Mrs Maloney tould me }e 
 wanted me, and di<ln't know what foi'.' 
 
 "Oh, you know what I wanted you for, if Mrs 
 Maloney di<l not. I wanted to see what kind of 
 a haste you wen^ that WM)uld go to the soupers — 
 
37(i 
 
 (M-KAN'KU TALKS. 
 
 m 
 
 wluit kiml oF Irish woniRii vou wtTr that n\ 
 stil your Faith t(f thiiii whitc-IivcriMl divils." 
 
 oil •{ 
 
 Fjithcr Hurkr hrn^ rose to his t'r»'t, his t' 
 
 »l(M' Mt 
 
 with wruth. and his hand ni<>viii^ to fjivisp lij^ 
 <'i(>ss. 'J'hc woman sunk on hrr kniM's at his t'rrt 
 "Im)!- the sakr of the (h-ar nu)th(r oF (iod. don f 
 put the tui'sc on me, ycr liviri'ncc," she cntrcMitt d 
 "Why not:* What have yo to say !* * 
 "The ciiihlhei- were crvin all ni<!ht i'oi' a hitc 
 hut it wasn't that. Little Tim was adyin on my 
 hreast, an 1 cudn't hear to have him tuk from iim . 
 I wint out, I tried everywhere, J could *^vt notliiii 
 an thin, I wint to the soupers. It was to keep tin 
 life in 'I'im, yer rivirence: I hurne<l tludr thrack^ 
 an never tasted myscdf wliat they <;ev me." 
 
 Witl 
 
 I a 
 
 pie 
 
 rv\u(r ci 
 
 'T 
 
 tl 
 
 e w(jman 
 
 the floor. Father 'J'om's anurer 
 
 f(dl 
 d 
 
 I 
 
 )ron(' oil 
 
 passed as (|Uiekl\ 
 
 kl' 
 
 as it rose. "Take lier awav," he said to the liouse- 
 
 keeper who hastened in, "I'll see her after vespeis. ' 
 
 I rose to iio; he was his old self airaiu: and with 
 
 a 
 
 hearty 
 
 wort! we 
 
 1 
 
 par 
 
 ted. At my uncle's house I 
 
 found a numljer of liis neiixlibors waitiui** and w< 
 were soon diseussinij the suhiect that tilled their 
 lieads. The awnt liad niven out he had i»ot an- 
 other letter, in wliich the landlord mende«l his 
 offer, hy pronjising that his agent at Quehec wouM 
 pay ten shillings a head on their landing at that 
 city, and saying the Canadian government would 
 give each family a hundred acres free. Tiiere w 
 
 a." 
 
 to be no breaking or separating of families; al 
 
 ■:mi,- 
 
Tllfc: SI MMKK (»K solMtnW 
 
 :mi 
 
 would ;;i) in tlu' sumc ship. Against tin- Inrr of 
 tin- U'vv pjissap*, the U'li shillin;j^s, atid th«* lmii<hrd 
 iicivs, they j)\it .h'aviiif; In-hiinl for such a wild, 
 cold phi(M.» as Canada, and to people in ra^^s the 
 tli()Ui(ht of its frost and snow was terrihle. My 
 uncle fetcheil his onlv letter from his hrother and 
 1 read it aloud. I had to (U) so st'veral times, as 
 they arj^ued over })nrticular statements and ex- 
 pressions in it. The account it ^^ave of his com- 
 
 fort wciirhiMJ with them. After 
 
 a 
 
 'reat ileal (»f 
 
 talk my luicic .says, "Well, hoys, my hrother never 
 toM nje a lie an F helieve evcrv word of his letter. 
 If ye says. I'll *^() wid ye, I'm for takin the oHii* 
 iu> lax in at onct. " His decision carrie(| them hv 
 >toiin, and the listless downcast men hecame 
 liri^ht and encri;etic with the new hope horn 
 within them. As I walked home, 1 thou;;ht it 
 over. There was the possihility of there hein;^' 
 deceived by the a<;ent. They were ijjjiiorant of 
 Itusitiess and could easily he imposed nj)on. Shoidd 
 I not j^o with them and i)rotect their interests'' 
 What was thei'e to keep me in Ireland:' Every- 
 thini; I had tried had <xone at^ainst me. When 
 I was in a fair way at Ma^'nooth, the thought had 
 |H>ssess(;d me the priesthood was not my vocation 
 and I left its loved walls. Failure and disappoint- 
 ment laid marked every etl'ort made in other call- 
 in<^s since. To aive uij mv situation as teachei' 
 would matter little; its salary was a mockery. 1 
 Would see Aileen. 
 
.*i7.S 
 
 OLEANKK TALES. 
 
 ■ (■■ ' 
 
 iili- 
 
 Fel)y. 2<S, 1(S47. — Ailcen consents. Like niVMlf 
 ;in ()r])han, sIil* has no tit'S to bind lior to dear old 
 Irrland he'^^ond thoso connnon to all her ('hil<hrii, 
 We will he niarne<l the week before the shiji 
 sails. (Jave up my school today. As I mean to 
 keep a journal ol* the \()ya<(e, I .sat down toiii^lit 
 and wrote ihv. t'orenuino-, to remind me in futinc 
 yeai's of the causes that led to my decision. 
 
 March 8. — Uncle came to see me this moniiur. 
 What he tells me raises doubts ot* the ^ood faith 
 of the landlord. The agent was round yesL'i-day 
 with an attorney who got them to put their niaik 
 to a paper. A sliip is promised beginning of Apiil. 
 
 10. — Walked to town to see the asfent. He was 
 not for showing the paper at first. It was a re- 
 lease of all claims on the landh^rd and a ])i()inisf 
 to give him peaceable po.ssession on the 1st April. 
 The I'emission of what is due for rent and the fnc 
 })assage are specified as the (piid pi'o (juo o%tlit' 
 landlord but not a word about the ten shilliiius 
 a head to be paid at Quebec or the 100 .icres per 
 family from the Canadian government. Xothiiii: 
 can now be done: the poor people ai'c at Lord 
 l^ilmerston s mercy. 
 
 April 9, — W»' were man-ied ^b)nday morning, 
 and spent threes ^^'^Ppy days with Aileen's cousin 
 in Limei'ick. Arrived here in Dublin today. The 
 ship is advei'tised to sail tomorrow. Took out 
 our tickets for second cabin and drive tomorrow 
 morning to where the ship is lying. 
 
 fBrSf 
 
THE SlMMKll OK SOllUoW 
 
 :J7!) 
 
 10. — When the car <lr()\e alonn'sidt; the ship, 
 
 ins 
 
 ti'ad of tindinir her readv tor 
 
 sea slie was a 
 
 sfrne of confusion, carpenters at work on her hull 
 iind ri*;gers perched in her cordau'e. There is a 
 mountain of frei<^ht to o() on hoard, which she 
 is not ready to recr'ive. It was a sliame to ad- 
 
 vertise her to sai 
 
 1 to<li 
 
 di 
 
 av wn»'n she cannot ieav« 
 
 t 1. 
 
 ior severa 
 
 1 d 
 
 ly 
 
 () 
 
 ur seconc 
 
 1 cah 
 
 >ni oi'oves 
 
 to 1 
 
 >e 
 
 ,1 cuhhy-hole in tlie liouse on deck. We mi^'ht 
 ;is well ha\e <i^one in tlie steera(jfe and saved t!5. 
 it was late in tlie day when nncle and his neigh- 
 liors arrived; tliey fornie(l a lar<ije P'^i"ty. *i'><l were 
 footsore with their lon<.^ tranip. The ca])tain re- 
 fused to allow them to i»'o on board and thev will 
 have to spend the night on th(3 (piay. Tlu' weather 
 fortunately is diy. 
 
 11. — I spoke to the captain on hehalf of the 
 t'liiifrrants. I showed him they ha<l come on the 
 •lav advertised and had a riij^ht to maintenance. 
 Ke curtly told me to go and see the ship's hroker, 
 wlu) has his office far up in the city. I waited 
 over an hour in an outer room to liet an interview 
 with the government emigration inspector. I im- 
 plored him to put in force the law on hehalf of 
 the poor people shivering on the <|uay. He 
 haughtily ordered me out of his office; saying he 
 knew his duty and would not he dictated to hy 
 a hedge .schoolmaster. Came away indignant and 
 sore at heart. Looking over the emigrants 1 can 
 see why Lord Palmerston confined his <jtter t(j 
 
 f 
 
liHO 
 
 GLEAXEU TALES. 
 
 those in arrears for rent and who had small \v\U- 
 inL»s. Such persons must needs be wido;vs or oM 
 niL'n without proper lielp. His lordship has 
 shrewdly <^ot rid of those likely to be an incum- 
 brance on his estates. The company is made up 
 largely of women and children, with a few old or 
 weakly men. The number of wi<lows is surprising. 
 12. — The weather is cold and showery and the 
 poor people are most miserable — wet, hunujry, and 
 shivering. I went to Dublin to see the ship's 
 l>roker. He received me very smoothly and re- 
 ferred me to tlu^ charterer, without whose instruc- 
 tions he could do nothinef. The charterer I found 
 to be out of town; the owner of the ship livis in 
 Cork. I returned disconsolate. An infant died 
 today from exposure. On going to see about the 
 inno<.'ent's burial, the priest told me it was com- 
 mon for ships to advertise they would sail on ji 
 day on which they had no intention of leavinu. 
 It was done to make sure of getting all the pas- 
 sengers they couUl pack into the vessel. They 
 get £'] a head +'rom the landlords, children count- 
 ing as half, and the more they can force on board 
 the greater their profit. His experience had been 
 that charterers of vessels for carrying emigrants 
 were remorseless in their greed, and, by briliing 
 the officials, set the government regulations at 
 detinnce. Scenes lie had seen on the (|uays drew 
 tears from all save those whose hearts were hard- 
 ened by the lust of gain. 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOllROW. 
 
 :^sl 
 
 14. — Tlie poor people are homosicV and lieart- 
 sick. Toflay a nuinber of them tried to get on 
 Imrd and take possession of the berths between 
 ilecks, which were tinislied yesterda}-. They were 
 driven back by the mate and tlie sailors. One 
 man was brutally kicked by the mate. It seems 
 if the passengers got on board they would have 
 !i right to rations, hence their l)eing <lenie<l 
 shelter. Son)e of the men have jjfot work aloni»' 
 the quays, and every sixpence is a help to buy 
 bread. Again ventured to remonstrate with the 
 mptain. He said he had nothing to say to an 
 informer, referring to my visit to the government 
 accent. I told him I would report his conduct to 
 Ijord Palme/ston, an<] have just written a letter 
 to his lordship. 
 
 15. — Mattel's have been <j:<)inir on from bad to 
 worse. Two more children have died from cohl 
 and want. Not a soul in the crowd has had a 
 warm bite since they left home. Their food is an 
 insufficiency of bread, whicli is poor sustenance 
 to ill-clad people camped in open sheds. The ship 
 is ready for sea yet they will not letnis g») on 
 board. 
 
 10. — This morning we were ordered to go on 
 iKwrd and gladly hurried up the long plank. We 
 had not been fairly settled in her until there was 
 a hurroo, and looking ashore I saw" a great crowd 
 of men carrying bundles and babies, with wom( n 
 and children. Tliey were worse clad and more 
 
3S2 
 
 (iI.EANEIl TALES. 
 
 iiii.s('ral)l(! than our own people. 'I'o my surprise 
 tlicy headed for our s]«ip and were soon orowdinir 
 into Ixr until there was not room to turn. Nd 
 sooner was the last chest isnt on hoard than tin* 
 sailoi's Ijef^^an to unmoor the ship. I^eforr' they 
 were done a tuo' steamed up to us and passed lur 
 hawser. We had moved out into the bay soiiic 
 distance, when the paddles ot" the tuij^ stopped, ainl 
 we saw a six-oared cutter making' for us, and 
 wh(.'n alonj^side the i;()vernment inspector, in liluc 
 unifoi-m with i;ilt buttons, leapt on boai'd. lie 
 looked neither to left nor rii^ht, but vvalke(| with 
 the captain across the ((uarter-deck and went 
 down into the cabin. My mind was made up. 
 My people had alrea<ly suffered much at the linn<ls 
 of the shipping-men, and I resolved to ])r()t(st 
 against their l)ein^ overcrowded. I knew the laW' 
 and knew full well that she had all on board 
 she was competent for before this new arrival. 
 I waited my opportunity, and wlu^n I saw the 
 inspector emerijfci from the companion-way and 
 liead straight for his boat, I rushed forward. 1 
 had just shouted the words, "I protest — ," wlu-n 
 I was tripped from behind. As I fell headloni:. 
 I heard the inspector say, "Poor fellow, has had 
 a drop too much. (Jood-l)ye, captain: prosperous 
 voyage." When I rose to my feet he was gone. 
 and the mate faced me. "Danni you," he shouted, 
 'try to speak to an outsider again and I'll brain 
 you." Mortified at my failure and indignant at 
 
 i 
 
THE Sl'MMKlt OK SOIUJOW. 
 
 
 was croUt\ 
 
 inv iisau'c, T left tlu? (luartcr-di'ck. Tin* tui.'' was 
 in motion a^ain, and wr wt'iv sailing' down the 
 lijiy — fair J)ul)lin l>ay, with its beautifully lound- 
 1(1 slopes and hills, l>riL>ht with hudding woods 
 
 ind ver* 
 
 lant 
 
 swai'i 
 
 1. T 
 
 o our surpi'ise 
 
 f 
 
 or we 
 
 thouf^ht we had started on onr voya|L;e, the tui^- 
 (h'opped us when we had i^one down the hay a 
 liit, and our anchor was let li'o. Late in the even- 
 
 iuti' the word went I'ound the reascjii ol our not 
 sailing was that the crew, from the captain down to 
 the apprentices, beliesed th(^ ship would havi; no 
 luck were she to begin her voyage.' on a Fi'iday. 
 
 17. — At daybreak we were roused by the clank- 
 inii' of the capstan as the anchor was weii»'h(Ml 
 Tliere was a light aii' from the north-east. Sails 
 were spread and we slow ly beat out of the bay 
 ;iiid took a long slant into the chaiuiel, di*op- 
 ping our pilot as we passed Kingstown, Stores 
 were broached and biscuit for three days served. 
 
 Tl 
 
 VI 
 
 ley were very coarse and somewhat 
 
 t tl 
 
 le o-overnmen 
 
 t ofii 
 
 cer was supnosei 
 
 pp( 
 
 mou 
 d to 1 
 
 Idy, 
 lave 
 
 examined and passed them as up to the reijuire- 
 ments of the emigration act. Bad as they were, 
 they were eagerly accepted, and so hungiy were 
 the people that by night most of them were eaten. 
 How shamefully the ship was overcrow<led was 
 now to be seen nnd fully realized. There were 
 not berths for two-thirds of the passengers, and 
 
 by common conse 
 aued, to the wome 
 
 n 
 
 t tl 
 
 ley were given up 
 
 to tl 
 
 le 
 
 n and the children. The other; 
 
 l> H 
 
 i 
 
m 
 
 :{.S4 
 
 (iLEAXEK TALES. 
 
 II 
 
 slept on chests and Itundles, and many could tiinl 
 no other restin<,f place than the floor, which was 
 so occupied that there was no room to walk left. 
 I ascertained, accidentally, that the mate served 
 out rations for o'JO today. He counts two chil- 
 dren as one, so that there are over GOO souls on 
 hoard a ship which should not legally have 400, 
 for the emigrant act specifies 10 square feet of 
 deck to a passf^nger. Why was this allowed ' 
 What I heard a man telling this morning explains 
 all. The government had sent £200 to be spent 
 on relief works in his townland b}'^ giving em- 
 ployment at a shilling a day. When £50 liad 
 been paid out, the grant was declared to be ex- 
 hausted. Where did the £150 go ^ Into the 
 ])ockets of a few truly loyal defenders of the 
 Knorlish constitution and of the Protestant le- 
 ligion. The British parliament has voted enough 
 mone}'^ to put food in every starving mouth in 
 Ireland. Half and more of the money has been 
 kept by bloodsuckers of the English garrison I 
 net mad when I think of all this. The official 
 class in Ireland is the most corrupt under the 
 sun. A bribe will blind them, as I saw yesterday, 
 when the inspector passed our ship and stores. 
 Wind continued li<:jht all forenoon, and fell awav 
 in the afternocm to a calm. After sunset a breeze 
 sprung up from the west, but did not hold, and 
 as 1 write we are becalmed in mid-channel. 
 18. — Light and baffling breezes from the west 
 
 
THE srMMKIl OK SO R HOW. 
 
 ;t8.> 
 
 !in<l north-west prevailed all day, so we made 
 little progress on the loni^ journey het'ore us. 
 One of our many tacks brought us close to the 
 Knglish coast. It was my first and likely to be 
 my last view of that country. Aileen has made 
 our cabin snug and convenient beyond belief. 
 Her happy disposition causes her to make the 
 liest of everything. 
 
 19. — The westerly breezes that kept ns tacking 
 in the channel gave place, diiring the night, to a 
 strong east wind, before which the ship is bowling 
 at a fine rate. Passing close to the shore we had 
 a view of the coast fi'om Ardmore to Cape C'lear. 
 Aileen sat with me all day, our eyes tix(Ml on the 
 land we loved. Knowing, as it swept past us, it 
 was the last time Ave would ever gaze upon it, 
 our hearts were too full for speech. Towards 
 t'vening the shif di'ew away from it, until the 
 liills of Kerry l>ecame so faint that they could 
 liardly be distinguished from the clouds that hov- 
 ered over them. When I finally turned away my 
 eyes from where I knew the dear old land w^as, 
 my heart throbbed as if it would burst. Farewell, 
 Erin; no matter how far from you I may roam, 
 iny heartstrings are woven to you and forget you 
 I never shall. May the centuries of your sorrows 
 soon be completed, and peace and plenty 1)6 yours 
 forever. Land of my fathers, shrine of my faith, 
 a last farew^ell ! 
 
 20 — When I awoke this morning I became 
 
 1M 
 
 •A 
 
SS() 
 
 (JLEANER TALKS. 
 
 .♦"(•nsiMc of tlu' violent in(>tion of the* ship. (Joinn 
 (•lit 1 saw wt* wcrv. fairly on the bosom of tlit- 
 Atlantic and the shij) was plunging throui^h tli. 
 ocean swell. The east wind still lield and wi 
 v.ere spee<liniL;" on our course under full sail. 1 
 found ni}' fellow-passenf^ers to be in a deph)nihlt 
 condition. The bulwarks were lined with a num- 
 ber who wei-e deadly seasick. Goinj^^ between 
 decks the scene nigh ovei'canie me. The tirst tiiur 
 I went below I was reminded of a ca\ei7i — iuui; 
 and narrow and low in ceilinj^. Today it was a 
 ]>lace for the damned. Three blinkinor (jil lanti rn- 
 i-ast liffht enouiiJj to show the outlines of foi'iii^ 
 that lay jj^roaning on tlie floor, and <.(ive oliiiipsr,> 
 C)f white stony faces lying in the berths, a doublt 
 tier of which surround the sides of the ship. A 
 ])oignant wail of misery came thi'ough an atiiio- 
 ^phere of such deadly odour that, for the tii-st 
 time, I felt sick, and had to beat a retreat up tlu 
 jiari'ow ladder. The cool ocean breeze revived nu- 
 and Aileen, who proved a good sailor, had our 
 modest breakfast ready when I joined her. On 
 levisiting the steerage later in the day I fouml 
 there were passengers down with more than sea- 
 s^ickness. There are several cases of dysentery. 
 J asked the steward to tell the captain. He in- 
 foi'ujs me the captain can do nothing, having only 
 ft small medicine-chest for the crew. However he 
 told him, and the captain ordered the steward t<' 
 give them each a glass of whisky. I had plain 
 
 r ^ 
 
T!IK SIMMER OF SOKKoW 
 
 887 
 
 proof tochi}' of in}' suspicions that «Irink is 1»<'in<( 
 >()1<1, and on cluirginci^ tho stewanl 1k' toM nio it 
 was the custom for the nmtt's of t'niini"jint ships 
 to he allowed to do so, and he would ^vt in< what 
 
 I wanted at any time for sixpence a nonj^in. 1 
 told him I had taken the pledti^e at the hands of 
 Father Matthew and considered drink unnecessary. 
 My remonstrances fell on stony ground, fur the 
 steward, a decent, civil fellow, sees no wrong in 
 drinkini^ or in sollinfj drink. 
 
 21. — The first death took place last night, when 
 
 II hoy of five years succumbed to dystntery. In 
 the afternoon a wail sudderdy arose fi'oiii the hohi 
 —a tine young woman had died from tlu' same 
 cause. Both were dropped into the sea at sunset. 
 Tiiere are fewer .seasick today, but tlu- nuuiber ill 
 from dysentery grows. Coi'nmeal was served out 
 today instead of biscuit. It was an injury iii.^tead 
 itf a sustenance, for it being impossible to make 
 stirabout of it owing to no provision having been 
 made for a galley for the passengers, it had to be 
 mixed with water and eaten raw. Some uut hot 
 water, but most had to use cold. Such food when 
 "lysenter}^ threatens is poison. Today was cold 
 with a headwind that sent the spray flying over 
 tlie bows. Had a long talk this afternoon with a 
 very decent man who is "ointr to Peterboroujih, 
 Canada West. He thinks it is not disease that 
 ails the children, but cold and hunger. Food and 
 clothes is what they need, not medicine. The 
 
 
:ms 
 
 (J LEA NEK TALES. 
 
 !i 
 
 nniiilRT of sick jj^rows. Sij^^^lited 2 ships ttxlay 
 Kotli too far away to speak them. 
 
 22. — Why <h> we exert ourselves so littN- to 
 helj) one aiiotlier, wlien it takes so little to j)leas«'' 
 Aileeii coaxed the steward to let her have s<»iu(' 
 <li.scarded biscuit hajjs. These she is fashionin-j 
 into a sort of <^owns to cover the nakedness of 
 several nirls who could not come on deck. Th*- 
 tiist she finished this afternoon, and no aristocratic 
 miss could have been prouder of her first silk 
 dress than was the poor child of the transfoniw'*! 
 canvas l)a<^, which was her only varment. 
 
 23. — This is Sunday. The only chani^e in tlu- 
 routine of the ship that marks the day is that 
 the sailors liave an extra wash down to the «{ecks 
 and after that did no work except trim th<* sails. 
 They spent the forenoon on the forecastle mending 
 or washinjj their clothes. Durino- the afternoon 
 it grew cold, with a strong wind from the north- 
 east, accompanied by driving showers. Towanls 
 sunset the sea was a lather of foam, and the 
 wind had increased to a gale. When the waves 
 began to flood the deck, the order was given U) 
 put the hatches on. God help the poor souls shut 
 in beneath my feet ! With hatches open, the lioM 
 was unbearable to me. With them closed, what 
 will it be by morning? It is growing so dark I 
 cannot see to write more, for a light is forbidden 
 to us. The wind is still rising and the thump of 
 the waves as they strike the ship's side grow? 
 
THE Sl'MMEK OF SOHKoNV. 
 
 ;}8i) 
 
 more violent. The slioutinjjj of ordi'i's. tli" tramp 
 iind rush of the sailors to ohcy them, the swaying 
 uf the ship, the o;roanin<( of lier timlMTsand mast>, 
 and the constant swish of water lushin^- across 
 the (leek, comhine to make me most melaiK'h<dy 
 and forobo lin<;s of evil darken mv soul. Aih'eri 
 \< on her knees, the calm and resii^nation of a 
 saint restini; upon her face. There is a faith in 
 liod that ri.ses ahove the worst of the woiid.-^ 
 trials. 
 
 24. — \V«' ha<l a dreadful nij^ht, and \ slept uul} 
 liy snatches. At midnifjjht the tempest seemed to 
 reach its heighth, when its roar drowned all other 
 -ioimds. The ship swayed and ioIIimI as if she 
 would capsize, while ever and an(»n she shij)ptMj 
 a sea that flooded our little cabin, and threatened 
 U) tear the house, of which it foi-ms part, frcjm 
 its fastenings and carry it ovei'board. How I 
 prayed for daylii^ht I When at last the dawn of 
 another day came, the wind lessene<l somewhat in 
 its force, but the waves were hi<;her and stronger, 
 and while the ship was still shudderini;' from the 
 ilrcadful l)low dealt by one, another struck her, 
 and made her stanma* woi'se than before. Peerinix 
 mt of the side-.scuttle I could see iwiuiiht l)ut n, wild 
 tumult of waters — yawning aby.sses of green water 
 and movinfjj mountains crested with foam. The 
 writhing, ceaseless activity of the raging waters 
 •let'ply impressed me. Our ship at one time seem- 
 »mI to be about to be Ciigulfed; tlu^ next moment 
 
 lil 
 
 t» I 
 
m 
 
 %! 
 
 3f)0 
 
 ChKANKK TALKS. 
 
 
 
 k: 
 
 «li«r t»i\v«M*(wl iiljove the l»i<^ln'st waves. S.> fur as 
 1 could tunkc out she was (Iriviuir hct'ort* the 'oilt 
 under her rmcsail, cl().s(r reefed. It was noon Im-- 
 foie if was safc^ to step out on (U'ck. '^Phe wiii«l 
 was dyiuM- away hut tlie ocean was still a wil.l 
 scene. Witli little? way on thr ship, shr rolled 
 and pitched, sd that to keep fi'oni falling* I had in 
 (dutch at whatever I could i;et a hold of. Thf 
 sails u«»re slattintr aixainst the masts with a noisf 
 like niiindci-. It was laU; in the day when a hrct/f 
 came up, which steadied the vessel and causc<l lni 
 to sliip no more water, when the mate ordered tlir 
 liatches to he op(nied. I was standin<^ by, con- 
 cerned to know liow it had ^one with my peoplr 
 Tlie first man to come up was my uncle. He IukI 
 been waitijii;- anxiously to see me. His wife luul 
 taken ill dui'ing the night, and he was afiviid hrv 
 trouble was the fever. I Inirried down with him 
 and found her ])ulse hi<j;h and her hody I'ackcd 
 with pains. All that we had in our power to do 
 for her was to give a few (h'ops of laudanum from 
 a bottle Aileen had brought with her, which ea.sed 
 Iier pains and gave her some rest. Aileen wanted 
 to go and see her but I would not allow her, tln' 
 sjohts and stench of between decks beincf revolt- 
 ing and past description. Uncle says the passen- 
 gers passed a dreadful night. The seams opene<! 
 in th(^ forepeak, and the water coming in caused 
 u panic, the Ixdief being the ship was about t<i 
 sink. One old man was thrown a^rainst a trunk 
 
THK SIMMKH oK snuiloW. 
 
 .Mill 
 
 iiinl Iwid tlncc ril)S ]»r<)k«'n juhI a i;iil. iii tVni* 
 Ivsenterv, dit'*! <IuriT»L!' tlir worst of tln' st«»nii. 
 
 25. — TijMMl ami wmn <»ut 
 
 as 
 
 I was, I Iwi'l i 
 
 lirokcn nii^lit's icst. I wok*- with a start tVnm i 
 Ircaui that uncle's wit'r was drail. So iinprcssni 
 was I that sncli was the cas*'. that I (hu'ssed liur- 
 ri«'(]ly to '^n ami sec. As I stcpp«'<l on deck S hclU 
 were struck, iudicatini-' niichnj-ht. It was clear 
 tlmuu^h cold, and the stars could he seen to tlni 
 horizon. 'Plie column of heated aii- that i-ose tVom 
 the hatchway was ix-culiarlv fetid, hut I did m t 
 hesitate to desce'U*!. Kxcept for the cries an I 
 
 i; roans o 
 
 f tl 
 
 >e su 
 
 k st 
 
 Illness 
 
 P» 
 
 'e\aile(l. Kxhaustel 
 
 I'V the watchinj"' of the T)i*ecedin(x nii-ht all wh«> 
 'ould were aslec]). ( )n t^ettin;; to unchi's herth. 1 
 found him shM'i>in<'" ln'avilv, his wife tossinn* h/ 
 
 1< 
 
 lis side \vi 
 
 ith th 
 
 ;tl 
 
 le restJessness o 
 
 f h 
 
 ler disease 
 
 SI 
 
 \fi 
 
 was dosini»- and mutterin''-, showiuLT she was nofc 
 iierself. I tried to catch the wonis she uttere<l.. 
 
 d f( 
 
 il 
 
 h 
 
 del 
 
 h 
 
 1 
 
 and lound in lier <lelirium sue was hacK m ire- 
 land and to the happy days when uncle was ,i 
 wantei* and was eominii^ to see her. 1 searche(.l 
 hii^di and low hefoin^ I found a paimikin of water. 
 I raised her head and held it to her lips. Sh^i 
 drank it to the last <lrop. Slipping;- hack to my 
 hunk, I slept until it was late in the day. My tirsfc 
 thought on opening my eyes was, that it was my 
 duty to speak to the captain, an<l as I took break- 
 i'jist with Aileen I thought how 1 could appi'oach 
 liim with some hope of success. I kept on deck 
 
392 
 
 OLEAXER TALES. 
 
 watcliing- my cliance. The captain came up only 
 for a short time at noon to take the sun, and then 
 the mate was with him. I knew it was no use to 
 speak when that fellow was near. After dinnei* 
 I saw the mate go to his cabin for a sleep, and 
 Avaited anxiously for the captain. When he did 
 step from the companion and had taken a round i»i- 
 two on the poop, I stepped up. He looked sur- 
 prised and as if he resented my intrusion. Before 
 ]ie could speak I said — 'Pardon me, captain, foi- 
 comin<i^ here. I thought you might not know 
 what is on board ship." 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked roughly. 
 
 "There is fever on boanl," I answered (juietly. 
 He paled a little, and then shouted, "You lie; wliat 
 do you know about fever? You are not a doctor." 
 
 "Come and see for yourself," I said, "you have 
 not been 'tween decks since we left Dublin." 
 
 With an oath he retorted "Do you mean to tell 
 me what I should do? I want you to understand 
 I know mv duty." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, captain, do it then. Fever 
 is on board and unless a chanu^e is made half tlif 
 passengers may d'e." 
 
 "What change?" he asked sulkily. 
 
 "The steerage wants cleansing and the passenger- 
 need better food and more of it. " 
 
 "(Jrumbling, eh: what do they expect* Kua.st 
 l>eef and plum pudding? The beggars get tin- 
 go vernment allowance. Begone, sir.'" 
 
THE SUMMER OK SO 11 HOW. 
 
 ^u:i 
 
 I was treinUing with repressed indi<^ni}\tion but 
 for the sake of those T pled for I kept cool. "Cap- 
 tain, the poor people ask nothing unreasonable. 
 (}o and see for yourself the biscuits and water 
 served out to them, and I am sure you will order 
 a change." 
 
 "Complain about the water, too! What's wrong 
 with it:* " 
 
 "It's foul," I told him, "it smells and bad though 
 it be, there is not enough served out. The sick 
 are calling for water and not a drop t(^ be got. " 
 
 "Not enouijh served out — what do vou mean^' 
 
 "That the allowance is scrimped." 
 
 He clinched his tist an<l raised his right arm as 
 if to strike me. "This to me, on my own ship; 
 that passengers are cheated in measure! ' 
 
 "Strike me, captain, if you will, Ijut by our 
 common faith I implore you to consider the case 
 of my poor people. There are children who havo 
 (lied from starvation and they have bL'cn droppt'd 
 into the sea. There are more <lying and you can 
 save them by ordei'inu' a lar^jer ration of sound 
 biscuit. There are men and women lying sti-etch- 
 ed in the fever, will 3'ou not ease their agony by 
 letting them have all the water they can drink; 
 They have su tiered everything tiesh and blood can 
 sutler short of death. In Heeing from the famine 
 in Ireland, do not let it l»e said they have found 
 harder hearts and a worse fate on boai'd ship. 
 When you know a cup of water and a bite will 
 
 
 u ' I 
 ; i 
 
»i 
 
 :^94 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 1 'f! ■ ' ' 
 
 X. '■ 
 
 nt 
 
 save life and will make hundreds liappy, suiv, 
 captain, you will not refuse to f^ive them." 
 
 "You van^abond," he eyckvimed, his eves flashiin^ 
 with anger, "if you insinuate I am starving any- 
 body I will pitch you overboard. The passengei's 
 i;"et all the government reo-ulations allow them and 
 moi-e they shan't have. Begone, sii*, and do not 
 dare to come on the poop again." 
 
 "One word, captain. I have been told you have 
 a wife and children. For their sweet sake, liavc 
 pit}^ on the little ones and the wonjen on board." 
 
 "Do 3^ou hear me?" he shouted. "Leave tlir 
 poop or I will kick you off*, ill have no mutiny 
 on my ship." 
 
 I turned and left more sori'owful at my failure 
 than indignant at my usage. My appeal did .sonic 
 good, liowever, for before the day was over wind- 
 .*^ails were rigged at the hatchways, which did a 
 little to fi'eshen the air 'tween decks. A sail 
 ahead hove in sio-ht durinix the afternoon, and 
 we rapidly gained on her. At si.x o'clock wr 
 were abreast of the stranaer. which was not over 
 half a mile away. She was a small barque and 
 had lost her foretopmast during the gale. She 
 signalled us, but our captain took no notice, and 
 we soon left her a lonj*- wav astern, \sking the 
 boatswain why she wanted to speak us, he said 
 she likely was short of sails and spais to repaii* 
 her damaiTfe and wanted to ufet them from us. 
 "And why did the captain not help her:'" The 
 
THE srMMER OF SORROW. 
 
 :j95 
 
 hoatswrtin siniled. "They cost inoiioy and supply 
 inn' them would hav^e delayed us." I had my own 
 thouMits about the sailor who would not i^ive a 
 helping hand to his brother when overtaken by 
 misfortune. If that ship be lost for lack of spar 
 111- sail, then that little tyrant who struts our 
 (jiiarte r-deck is accountable. . 
 
 20. — A beautiful morninf,^ brij^ht and milder 
 than it h as l)een. l^^very sail is drawiuL,^ and the 
 >hip is bowling along at a tine I'ate. 1 got up 
 early, being anxious about uncle's wife. Found 
 her no better. Woi-se than that, learned there 
 were five besides her ill the same way. There is 
 now not a sliadow of a doubt that typhus fever 
 is on board. Since we left port, no attempt has 
 Iteeii made to clear the steerage, which is filthy 
 Iteyond description. When I speak to the men to 
 join in and shovel up the' worst of the dirt, they 
 'lespondently ask me, "What's the use:*" The 
 ilespondency engendered of hunger and disease is 
 upon them and they will not exert themselves. 
 The steward is the only one of the ship's compan}' 
 who goes down the hatch -steps, and it woulel be 
 l>etter if he did not, for his errand is to sell the 
 •Irink for which so many are parting with the 
 sixpences they should keep for their landing in 
 a strange country. The day being passably warm 
 in the afternoon the children played on the deck 
 and I coaxed Paddy Doolan to get out his pipes 
 and set them jigging. 
 
 5' 
 
:^06 
 
 O LEANER TALES. 
 
 
 27. — A dull, murky morning, with a mist that 
 surrounded the ship as the wrappin^^ of silk paper 
 does an orange. It was almost a dead calm and 
 the atuiosphere was so heavy the smoke of thr 
 galley did not I'ise and filled the deck with its 
 fumes. The main deck was deserted, save bv 
 myself and tliree old women who sat on the 
 coaming of the main hatchway, smoking their 
 pipes. The cabin boy flitted backwards and for- 
 wards carrying breakfast to the cabin, where the 
 steward was laying the table. The boy's motions 
 did not escape the women, and I noticed them 
 whispering and laughing as if concocting a plot. 
 One presently went down into the hold, while the 
 other two turned anxious glances for the return 
 of the cabin boy. When he did come he loaded 
 up with as many skillets and pans as he could 
 carry. No sooner had he disappeared down tin- 
 companion-way, than the women ran to the galley. 
 Avhich was deserted, for the cook, having completed 
 his moi-ning's work, had gone to the forecastle, 
 where the sailors were at breakfast, leaving the 
 dishes ready for the boy to take to the cabin as 
 wanted. In a twiidvlii!:; the women were out 
 again, one of them bearing a big copper teapot, 
 the steam fvom its spout showing in the morninu" 
 air. Hurrying to the hatchway they were met 
 by the woman who had left them, ready with a 
 lapful of tins of every description. Into thesr 
 the tea was poured and handed below,, as quickly 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOU HOW. 
 
 :]07 
 
 as they could be handled. Curious to view the 
 scene I went to the hatch and looked down, seein*^ 
 a crovv<l of grinning passengers beneath, who car- 
 ried oft' the tins as they got thein. When the last 
 drop was out of the kettle, the woman who held 
 it ran back to the galley, and dipping it into an 
 open copper of hot water replaced it whei'e she 
 jTot it. The women did not disappear, but re- 
 suming their seats on the edge of the hatch pro- 
 ceeded to discuss the tins of tea they had rt.'served 
 for themselves. By-and-by the boy hove in sight, 
 and, unsuspicious of the change in its co nts, 
 carried the kettle to the cabin. He had been 
 away five minutes when he reappeared kettle in 
 hand and went to the galley. I stood behind him. 
 He looked bewildered. "Bedad, I was riirht" there's 
 no other kettle." "Anything wrong, my boy ?" 
 "Och, yis; it's hot say water in.stead of tay that's 
 in the kettle." Going to the sailor.s' (juarters he 
 returned with the cook who, on tasting what was 
 in the kettle, looked perplexed. Accompanied by 
 the boy he made his way to the cabin to report 
 a trick had been played upon him. Telling Aileen 
 of what was afoot, she drew a shawl over her hea<l, 
 came out and took her place by me in lee of the 
 long boat, awaiting developments. The mate, fol- 
 lowed by cook, steward, and boy, emerged from 
 the companion. Striding the deck with wrathful 
 haste the mate went to the galley and after hear- 
 ing the explanations of the cook, shouted "I'll flay 
 
 .«<! I 
 
308 
 
 GLEAXEU TALES. 
 
 tlie thieves with a rope's end." Cominf( hack. 
 
 lie asked me, "What do you know about tliisT 
 
 "That I had no hand it," I replied, "nor, I'ln 
 sorry to say, even a taste of it' Aileen laii<.die«], 
 and eyeing me mah'gnantly tl^e mate retoitcd. 
 "You know who did it; tell me right away." 
 
 "Of course I know, but I would not tell agentlr- 
 man like yourself who hates informers. Remeniliir 
 Dublin bay." 
 
 He ground his teeth an<l had Aileen not btcii 
 there I believe he would have attempted to strike 
 me. Wheeling round to the three old women who 
 i»at quietly on the hatchway he asked them. 
 
 "Is it the tay ye are askin afther? Sure an it 
 wasn't bad; was it, Mrs O'Flaherty?" 
 
 "Dade it was comfortin this saft mornin, Mis 
 Doolan, an good it was ov the gintlemin to send 
 it to us. It's a captain ye should be instead ov 
 a mate, my dear." 
 
 "Tell me who stole the tea-kettle from tlu' 
 galley," yelled the Uiate. 
 
 "Och, dear, don't be shoutin so loud," replied Mrs 
 Doolan, "if I be old, I'm not deaf yet. An as for 
 stealin yer dirthy ould tay-kittle, sure I saw the 
 boy with it in his hand this minit." 
 
 "Come, no prevaricating. You know what I 
 mean. Who stole the tea?" cried the mate. 
 
 "Mrs Finegan, ye sit there niver saj'ing a wonl; 
 can't ye tell this swate gintlemin who stole the 
 tay." 
 
THE Sl'MMEU OF SOKUUW. 
 
 im) 
 
 le from tlie 
 
 "You'll lie nianiii the tay tlie landlord toiild us 
 lie paid tin pounds into the hands of the mate to 
 L^ive us on tlie voya^jfe. Where that tay wint to 
 1 don't know at awl, at awl. J)o yju, Mrs 
 O'Flahertyr 
 
 "For shame, Mrs Finei^'an, to he purtindin sicli 
 a l^intlemin wad kep the tin ])oun. He's a^oin 
 to give us tay reglar atther this, an (here she 
 raised her tin and di'ank the last drop) this is 
 the first token. If yc plaze, sir, it would taste 
 betther were ye t<> put a grain o' shuggar in it." 
 
 At this, Aileen, who had been (piivering with 
 restrained meniment, hurst into a I'ipple of laugh- 
 ter, loud and long, and an echo from beneath 
 showed there were amused auditors at the hatch- 
 way. The mate grew purple with wrath. Seizing- 
 Mrs O'Flahej'ty by the shoulder he fairly screametl, 
 "You old hag, you know all about it; show me the 
 thief." 
 
 The woman rose to her feet, her long grey hair 
 hanging damp and limp in straggling locks. V ith 
 a twinkle in her eye she composedly regarded the 
 mate and dropping him a curtsey, said, she could 
 "not refuse so purlite a gintlemin. Thravellin in 
 furrin parts is as good for manners as a board in- 
 school eddication, Mrs Finegan." 
 
 With an oath the mate shouted, "Show me the 
 thief." 
 
 "It's that same I'm going to do," she replied, 
 "Come afther me," and she put her foot on the 
 
400 
 
 Oi.EAXEU TALES. 
 
 la<l(lor that lo<l into the liuM. The mate slimnk 
 back as if shot. "Are you not acomin?" askftl 
 Mrs O'Flalierty. "Indade its proud we will all hr 
 to see yer hewtit'ul face helow for ye have never 
 heen down to see us yet." 
 
 '•He's bashful,' intei-jeeted Mrs Doolan, )•isini,^ 
 "come wid me, if ye plaze, Mr Mate, an I'll inter- 
 juce you." 
 
 The mate was o-larinj:^ with a look in which fear 
 min'ded with baffled i-aj^e. The crones n()te<l his 
 state of mind and enjoyed it. "Can ye tell me, 
 Mrs OFlaherty, where that tine parfume is coinin 
 from?" 
 
 "Is it the sint aff the mate, yer smellin:'" re- 
 marked Mrs Finegan, who had relit her pipe and 
 was looking on with a solemn face. "Sure its 
 camfire, an he shmells av it like an ould maids 
 chist o' drawers." 
 
 "Beggin yer pardon, Mrs Fineg'in," retorted Mrs 
 O'Flaherty, "it's a docthur he be, an he is coniin 
 down to see thim sick wid the favor." 
 
 With a volley of curses the mate turned away. 
 As he went towards the poop he was followed by 
 a chorus of cries from the old women, Wunna ye 
 come an git the thafe? Row did ye like hot say 
 wather for tay? Remimber, an send us our tiiy 
 reoriar afther this, not formttin the shuoH»ar. 
 There's a favor patient wants to see ye, sir. 
 
 When he disappeared I said to Aileen "none 
 but Irishwomen could have so settled a bu'lv" 
 
THE si:mmeii of soukow. 
 
 401 
 
 "And no otiier," sljo laujifliint^ly n'pliud, " Imvc 
 captured a cup of tea so neatly. ' Towards noon 
 tlio too- clcai'cd, and the ship made some prni;ress 
 under a li<^lit hreeze. There was no death to(Uiy, 
 hut there are more cases ot* fever. Tlie boatswain 
 tuld me that the si^^ht of the sun to(hiy showed 
 we were GOO miles from N 'wfoundland. Saw the 
 topsails of a full-ri<^oe<l ship at the edji^e of the 
 horizon before sunset. 
 
 2S. — Rained all morninj^ and miserably cold. 
 The light breeze we had (lie<l away and we rolled 
 helplessly until after dinner, when the wind came 
 ii|) from the south-east, which sent us bowling on 
 our course. A huge staysail, that had been bent 
 by the sailors two days ago between the main 
 and foremast, was hoisted for the first time, and 
 added perceptibly to the ship's speed. Sickness 
 increases and the body of a boy of 5 years of age 
 was dropped into the ocean in the forenoon. The 
 freijuency of deaths has made tlie passengers cal- 
 lous, and, especially those of children, call out little 
 eumment. When men and women have sounded 
 the deepest depth of wretchedness, as they have 
 •lone, they seem to lose both hope and fear. 
 Uncle's wife is no better; so far as I can judge 
 she is sinking. She might rally had we suitable 
 nourishment to give her, but we have nothing. 
 She has not even fresh air, but with every breath 
 inhales the stench of a pestilence. Uncle, unable 
 to do anything else for her, sits at the head of the 
 
 5er 
 
402 
 
 iLEANEK TALES. 
 
 i^ortli, licr \\nw\ claspod in liis. We Imd a wonder- 
 ful sunset. TIk; elum^e ol* wind brought warmth 
 »>nd dapplecl the sky witii Heeey clouds. The foro- 
 <\'istle being deserted Aileen went witli \nv, and 
 wt' sat where, looking down, we could see tlu- 
 <iutwater Hashintr the waves into foam, or, lookini: 
 v.\), see the cloud of canvas and tracery of rope 
 ;ind block orimsoning in the waninj; sunliLfht. 
 The snti was setting so directly ahead of us that 
 it might be supjxxsed tlu^ man at the wheel was 
 steei'inj»' for it. The jjflittei'inuf, burnished pathwav 
 it thn'w across tbe ocean, our ship sailed up. 
 
 'Sure," whispered Aileen, "it is the road to tlic 
 land of promise and the sun himself welcome's u.s 
 
 w<' pui'sue it." 
 
 "Heaven grant it may be so, but for some 
 
 on 
 
 boar<l thf land of promise will never be." 
 
 'Don't be looking at the dark side, (Jerald. Sec 
 y(Uider clouds, their downy edges touched witli 
 I ink. Let us fancy them the winiis of the anmU 
 v.'ho are beckoning us to homes of plenty an<l 
 content beyond that western wave, and cheer up. 
 As T looked into her face, bright with entliiisi- 
 ;ism. r felt if angels beckoned I had also one at 
 1:1V side to encouraoe me. We o'azed in silence at 
 tile glowing scene, marked the sun's disappearance, 
 and the deepening colors in cloud and water. 
 Turning our gaze to tlie ship we could trace the 
 sun's departing rays as they creeped up the tall 
 r.irsts. "Who would think," I said, "to look upon 
 
THE SUMMER OF SORROW. 
 
 40?* 
 
 n 
 
 this most ^Kjautit'ul of all man's creations, a ship" 
 in full sail radiant in the sun's richest tints, that' 
 in her hold she is bearin^jr an unspeakable mas» 
 ot' misery and woe? How dark within; how bright 
 without. How deceiv»nf]f are appearances!" 
 
 "Nay, Gerald, rather look at it this way: How 
 (fod in his j^oodness beautifies what man mars.* 
 Nothinj]^ so loathsome the sun will not bathe in 
 the fullness of his brijjjhtness and ^lory." 
 
 An<l in that I thou^rht, the sunshine is type of 
 wouian's love, which is not withheld by what is 
 repulsive and like the sunshine takes no defilement 
 from what it touches. 
 
 29. — Uncle's wife died this morninir. It would' 
 not be correct to sav the fever killfMl her, for it 
 had not reached its ci ';sis. She was weakly when 
 slic left home, and the sojourn on the (juay, wait- 
 \n<X to ir<'t on V)oard ship, o-avci her a bad eohf. 
 Hei* system was so reduced, #she couM n<it with- 
 stand the onset of the disease. Uncle wanted a 
 coffin, and the carpenter agreed to make one for 
 five shil]inf]rs, V)ut when he asked permission of 
 tlie mate he refused, so she was buried like the 
 others, slipped into the ocean. I recited th(^ 
 prayers for the dead, and the deck was crowded, 
 many beino- there who had not left the hold since 
 we sailed. Just as they were about to lift the 
 corpse over the gunwale Aileen suddenly burst 
 into song — that mournful, consolatory hymn of 
 the ages, Dies Ira% to whose strains so many 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
404 
 
 fJLEANEIl TALKS. 
 
 millions of the faithful liavo boon carried to thti 
 <(rav<'. Jt was her nia^iiiticeiit voice, souiuliiio 
 from th(» choir-loft of om' cl apel, that tirst drew 
 ine to her, and, never before, did 1 hear her j)ut 
 mon^ feeling into her voice than now. When tl^t- 
 last stj'ain of melody Hoated over the waters, theii' 
 was a liush for a nnnute, my uncle laid his hand 
 for the last time on the head of her he so dearly 
 love<l, there was a plun<jje, and all was over. The 
 hreakin^^ out of the fever has produced, even 
 ftmonj»" us hardened to misfctune, something; liki- 
 a panic. The crew are in mortal terror of the 
 infection and will not allow passen<rers to ^o on 
 the forecastle, as was their wont. The ship heino 
 sent to sea purposely shorthanded, the owner re- 
 lyinjLT on .savintr something by getting the emi- 
 grants to lielp, a few of our lads, who had been 
 given bunks in the forecastle an<l allowed sailors' 
 rations, ha been \\arned, if they go down the 
 liatchways to see their people, they need not re- 
 turn. The captain and cabin passengers never 
 leave the poop. As for the mate, he seems to put 
 Ins faith for protection against infection on cam- 
 phor, and so smells of it that he must have a piect 
 in every pocket. Uncle's sorrows are not ended, 
 for two of his family are very ill. 
 
 80. — Cold and rainy with fog. A north-west 
 wind is blowing that drives the ship at a good 
 rate, though not straight on her course The 
 fever spreads and to the other horrors of the 
 
THK srMMKK OK S(MUl(»W. 
 
 405 
 
 stocrncTf' is addc*! thr cries of tliosc in dcliriutii. 
 Wliilc I was I'oiniiJL^ from tin* j^alhy this nftrr- 
 nooii, with a pan of stirahont for somh' sick chil- 
 (h'cn, a nwm su(l<h'nly spiani,^ upwar(is from the 
 liatchway, i-nshiMl to th(i Imlwark, liis white luiir 
 streaming' in the wind, and withont a moment's 
 hesitation h»>ipe<l iiit(» tli<' seetlnnLf waters. H«5 
 tlisapjicared Itcneath them at once. His <hin^hter 
 soon came hnriyin^^ np tlie lad(h'r to look for 
 him. She said lie liad escape(l from liis l>nnk 
 (hirin<^ her momentary a}»sence. tluit he was mad 
 with the fever. When I toKl her jifcntlv as I 
 could that she would never sec him attain, she 
 could not helieve me, thinkinj^ he was hidin«^-. Oh 
 the piercinf]^ cry that came from her lips when 
 she learnefl where he had u^one; the rush to the. 
 vessel's sifh\ and the ea^er look as she scaiuied 
 the foaminf^ hiMows. Aileen led her away; dumb 
 from the sudden strc^ko yet without a teai*. 
 
 May 1. — Wind still from northwest: shi l»eat- 
 inrr arrainst it in short tacks. Most disairrt ahle 
 motion. (^ast lead at noon. At 150 fathoms 
 found no bottom. A whale crossed our hows, 
 not a hundred yards away. ])urin<^ tin? after- 
 noon wind veered to northeast and hefore dark 
 developed into a Ljale, l)efore which we are di'iv- 
 ing. May it last long enouprh to bring us to land. 
 Two deaths today, which has been a truly miser- 
 able May-da3'. 
 
 2. — There had been a flurry of snow during 
 
40G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 the ni^lit, so that yards and deck were white 
 when 1 went out. The f^ale still liohls and boat- 
 swain said if the weatlier cleared we would see 
 Newfoundland. Two small booms cracked but 
 that has not deterred the captain from keeping 
 on all the sail the ship will beai*. At times hei- 
 lee rail almost touches the watei', and the deck 
 slants so it is dithcult to cross it. The captain 
 is anxious to end the voyai^e, and no wonder, for 
 the fever spreads. One child anel two adults 
 Iiave died within the last twenty -four hours. 
 Their bodies were dro])ped overboard when the 
 ship was ^iJ^oing 12 knots an houi*. A cold, miser- 
 able (lav. 
 
 8. — The gale blew itself out during the night 
 and today it is calm, the ship pitching and lolling 
 on a glassy swell, and the sails flappino; as if they 
 would split. There is a mist, and it is \'ery cold, 
 which, the boatswain tells me, indicates ice near. 
 Lead cast and soundings found, showing we are 
 (m the Banks. Some of our people, who are Usher- 
 men, bargained with the cook for a piece of salt 
 pork and using it as bait cast their lines. Their 
 patience was tried for a while, until we struck a 
 school of tish, when for half an hour they caught 
 cod and dogfish as fast as they could haul them 
 in. The schoc ' then left and few^ were caught 
 afterwards. They gave a few of best tish to the 
 cook and in consideration he cooked what they 
 liad, so for one day all between decks had enough 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOIIKOW, 
 
 407 
 
 to oat. The ilriiikinii'-Wfitt'r lias Itrcii i>r<)\vini'- 
 daily worse, and now the smell of it is shoekiiii;. 
 The barrels must Iuino lieen tilleil from the Litiey 
 near a sewer. Repnj^nant as it is to sii^dit, smell, 
 and taste it continues to he doled out in sueh 
 mea<T^)-e measure that the siek are continually cry- 
 iniT for water with not a di-oi) to mw them. The 
 number now sick is appalling — the young of <lys- 
 entery, thr old of fever, the caus<' of both diseases 
 starvation. L'ncle's second bov died this after- 
 noon of dysenter}'. Poor uncle, his lot is a sore 
 one, yet lie ne\er complains. Wind ciime from 
 southwest towards evenini'' briniiini"" mildei' tern- 
 peratui'C with light rain. Sighted scNeral fishing 
 schooners and saw sea-bii'ds for iirst time since 
 left coast of Ireland. 
 
 4. — This lias been a \ ariable (Uiv: at times 
 briffht and warm, at othei's foiru'v and chillv, ac- 
 cording as the wind blew, and it has veered from 
 west to southwest. Saih)rs busy u'ettin^' anchors 
 oft* forecastle ami bitted to the catln.'ads — a slow 
 and laborious task. Passed a mmd)ei" of iishinj'' 
 smacks today and sailed through a school of por- 
 poises. Our own fishermen did pretty well t(jdjiy. 
 The fish they calch is a u^reat boon to our starvin**' 
 people. Xo death today. 
 
 J. — Weather thick and bitterly cold; no chil<l 
 played on deck today. Passed large fields of ice 
 reciuirinii' u'reat skill in handlinLi' the shii) to avoid 
 them. Captain remained on deck all day. While 
 
 fj' 
 
408 
 
 OLEAXER TALES. 
 
 
 I liave no respect for him an a man, he is an ex- 
 cellent sailor. Passed two ships caught in the ice. 
 Boatswain says they will have to drift with it 
 until the wind opens a channel by whicli they 
 can escape. Steady wind from nortii-east all day. 
 One death this evening, body buried by moon- 
 light. 
 
 (). — No ice seen today. Boatswain tells me the 
 captain has brought tlv^ ship well south of it. 
 Weather continued thick, with wind fi'om east, 
 and fi-e(|uent showers of rain. Passed a beauti- 
 fully shai)ed two- masted vessel, painted white. 
 She hoisted the stars and stripes. Sighted two 
 larixe vessels, one like ourselves crowded with 
 emiixrants, for her lee bulwark was black with 
 them, looking at us. A patch of floating sea 
 weed drifted bv before dark, showino- we nust 
 l)e near land. There were three deaths toda}'. 
 Tf it please (Jod, may this agony soon end. 
 
 7. — Stepping on deck this morning to my aston- 
 ishment sa,w land on either side — cape North and 
 St Paul island, the sunliMit brinoino; the lioht- 
 Jiouses into sharp relief. Ijoth spits looked deso- 
 late, but were a cheering sight, foi* they were the 
 first land we have seen since we lost sio^ht of the 
 Kerry hill.'^. Thank God for his iioodness in 
 l»ringing us to land, the sight of which cheered 
 nie beyond expression. It sent a thrill of excite- 
 ment even throujjh the steeraae. Durino; the 
 iiioht the wind changed to the southeast and the 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOIIKOW, 
 
 400 
 
 ship makes great progress, the water being smootli, 
 for now bein»^ in the <nilf of St Lawrence we have 
 left behind ns the swell of the Atlantic. As the 
 inorninfj wore on it urew warmer, and when the 
 sun liad climbed to his heighth his i-ays became 
 almost unpleasantly hot. Passengers not seen on 
 deck since we sailed, crawled np to have a sight 
 of the land, which we (juickly left astern, and to 
 bask in the sunshine, until few except the sick 
 remained below. It was wonderful the change 
 heat and prospect of soon being on land, wrought 
 on the spirits of us all. Hope sprung afresh, and 
 the misery of the past was foi-gotten. Children 
 played about the deck and the hum of conversa- 
 tion tilled the air. There were a nund)er of ships 
 in sight, bound, like ourselves, for Quebec. The 
 hours sped and ^ve were IxMxring down on the 
 Bird-rocks — lonely islets of rock, worn into fan- 
 tastic shapes, shooting sheer up fi-om the sea and 
 whose clifls give a foothold to sea fowl, squadrons 
 of whom were careering above them. While in- 
 tently watching these sentinels of the gulf of the 
 mighty river we had entered, my eye chanced to 
 fall on the face of an old woman whom Aileen 
 had persuaded to stay on deck. More pinched 
 and sallow it could not be, for sho was wasted 
 and worn, but, to my alarm, I saw its lines as- 
 suming the rigidity of coming death. I touched 
 Aileen's arm to direct her attention. She was 
 down on her knees by her side in a moment. 
 
410 
 
 GLEAN EU TALES. 
 
 "Mother, <J(,'ar, are you not feeling well? ' 'J'lic 
 eyelids lifted and the answer came, "I thank (iod 
 for his goodness," and then they drooped over the 
 poor dazed eyes. I stepped into my cahin foi* ;l 
 tin of water and Aileen held it to her lips. Sh-- 
 feebly motioned it away. The slip of a ;nirl who 
 helonii'ed to her, a urandcliild, now lealizin^; tlir 
 eomin*;* change, clasped her round the neck, 
 "(iranny, dear, don't be alcavin me all aloui': 
 sure we see Ameriky now and will .^ioon h^- 
 walkin on it." The soul was (piitting its frui! 
 teniunent but the chiUrs voice so far recalled it. 
 that a sliirht look of recoixnition liu'litened the 
 face. "(Jch, stay wid me, granny, an I'll do yw 
 V>iddin and nivir vix ye agin. We'll soon he 
 havin lashins of meat an wather, an ye wunna 
 need to he my'ni me your share. (J stay wi<l 
 me!" At that moment there was a report of a 
 musket lired near hy. The passengers, grouped 
 around the dying woman, I'aised their startled eyes 
 and .saw it was the mate, who had tii'cd at the 
 sea fowl on the rocks we were now passing. The 
 angry scowl at the interruption melted again into 
 soiTow when Aileen, lifting the gray head from 
 her lap, reverently straightened it on the deck, 
 and leavino' the Ijody to the care of the women 
 who crowded near, ltd the sobbina' u'irl, douhlv 
 orphaned, to our cabin. At sunset we buried the 
 body and with it that of a poor cripple, who ha- 1 
 been suffering from dysentery. We sat late tlai 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOIUIOW. 
 
 411 
 
 night, for the breeze was warm and tlie speed of 
 the ship exliihiratiiiijj', wliile the wateis sparkled 
 in the inoonlii^ht. 1 had been in Ited sometime,. 
 
 ,hen 
 
 voices ou 
 
 tsid 
 
 e waKene 
 
 k. 
 
 me, 
 
 It 
 
 was 
 
 tl 
 
 le 
 
 Itoatswain and a sailor who were tfdkinjji", and the 
 sound of their voices seemed to express astonish- 
 ment. I dressed and hurried out. 'Is there any- 
 thini; ^'one wron^r" I asked. '•J)id you ever see 
 the like of that:'" the boatswain replied, by point- 
 in«;" to the sky. The wind liad fallen and ij;lanein^ 
 up the masts I saw sail, and rope, and block were 
 motionless. Above huiiix clouds the like of which 
 1 had never seen. There were thousands of them, 
 all about a size, all spherical, and all placed to- 
 i^ether as exactly as the panes in a cathedral 
 
 window 
 
 Tl 
 
 K)U1> 
 
 h hid h'i)\i\ view, the mojn was 
 
 in the zenith, and its downward rays fell on the 
 cloudlets, illuminatiniL;" them and transmitting a 
 j'hostly light, reliected by a ghostly sea. From 
 the liorizon to the apex the illusion of the clouds 
 wjis perfect in i-epreseiiting the ship as standing 
 beneath the centre of a great dome composed of 
 spheres of grey glass, through which streame<l a 
 li<;ht mysterious and fearsome, revealing the face 
 of a glassy sea, dark an<l dread. "What weather 
 (loi's this poi'tend^'" I whispered The boatswain 
 shook Ills head. 'It ain't weather, sir," said the 
 sailor, "It's death. You see if the fever don't 
 •(row worse." 
 M. — I had sat so lonji on deck duriiiij- the nijiht 
 
 II 
 
412 
 
 fJLEAXEr TALES. 
 
 ■V 
 
 that it was late in the day wlien I awoke. Ailwn 
 had gone out hut v^turned when I had dressed 
 and we had hreakfast. A western hreeze was 
 })lowiniT and the ship was tackiuii;'. The hoat- 
 swain tohl nie the li^ulf was over 200 miles w'uh 
 so there was plent}^ of sea room, but V)et'ore ni<j^ht 
 Ave found there was not. As the day wore on 
 the wind increased and the weather became thick, 
 so that the men on the lookout kept sounding 
 the horn nearly all tlie time. The captain was 
 more afraid of ice than of a collision with an- 
 other ship, and did not leave the deck after dinner. 
 It was about o'clock, when everything seemed 
 to be going well, the ship tearing through the 
 water on her northern tack, when the fog sudden- 
 ly thinned, and to our surprise we saw land 
 ahead. We were not over a mile from it. The 
 captain shouted to the man at the wheel, wlio 
 brought the ship up to the wind, the sails slatting 
 like to break the masts. The yards of the fore- 
 mast were soon braced round, and the question 
 was whether the ship would wear in time to avoid 
 strikino-, for the land was now so near that we 
 could see the foam of the breakers on the shore. 
 There was a dreadful period of suspense, (hn'inj]^ 
 which the ship drifted broadside on towards tlie 
 land, until the sails of the foremast bellied out 
 on catching the wind, when she turned on lier 
 heel, and the order tacks and sheets given, when 
 everybody who had been able to get a grip of 
 
THE srMMER OF SORROW. 
 
 4i:i 
 
 the ropes hauled with all their strenn^th. The 
 [ship was now on the other tack, when we left the 
 Ifliul astern, and which presented a desolate ap- 
 pearance, a t'oreoround ot* rock with low hills 
 liehind on which were patches of snow. The 
 boiitswain said it was the eastern end of the 
 island of Anticosti, and had we struck the rocks, 
 those who escaped drowning would have starved 
 to death, for the island, save a lij^hthouse or two, 
 Is uninhabited. I thought it, hut did not say it, for 
 he is not responsible, that 500 people were being 
 starved to death on board ship. Our having got 
 out of our course, for the captain suppose* I he 
 was w^ell clear of the island, is l>lanied on the 
 currents and tides of the gulf. 
 
 9. — Uncle's oldest son died of the fever .soon 
 after daylight. The blow is a crushing one, but 
 I have yet to hear the first niurnnir from uncle. 
 His submission to the Divine Will is most touch- 
 mfr. The body along with two more w^e dropped 
 overboard when the sailors were at dinner. Tho' 
 near the end of our voyage, the little tyrant on 
 th*^ poop has given no order to increase the supply 
 of water or biscuit. I did not think the stench 
 of the hold could become worse, but the heat we 
 had a day ago has intensified it. To descend into 
 the hold has become more than I can well bear. 
 1 told Aileen today she must not even go near 
 the hatchways. Wind unfavorable all day, and 
 ship tacking. 
 
 ' M 
 
 P 
 
 n 
 
414 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 i'.'^ 
 
 10. — Wind again in the south but very \\<r\\i. 
 Today in making the weatlier tiack we came clow; 
 to the south shore, wliich seemed to be a succes- 
 sion of ranfjes of hijjh hills with trees to their 
 tops. This was a sad day, five having died. Kx- 
 changed signals with a ship. She said she was 
 from Liverpool with emigrants and many wor»* 
 sick. Lead was kept going all day. 
 
 IL — In beating across the gulf this moniinnr. 
 the wind being ahead, and cold enough to chill 
 to the marrow, we noticed a small schooner bear- 
 ing down upon us. It was a pilot boat that had 
 sighted us. When alongside, a row boat left Iht 
 and soon a pilot was climbing to our deck. He 
 was a P><'nchman and spoke broken English. 
 When be saw he had cfot on board an emiixraiit 
 ship, he seemed to hesitate, and looked as if hit 
 wished he was back, with the bundle he had in 
 Ids band, on the schooner again. The boat, how- 
 ever, was by this time near the schooner. "Any 
 seek?" be asked the captain. What the captain 
 answoi'cd I could not hear, for he turned and 
 took the stranger to the cabin. When the pilot 
 reappeared he took connnand, and I noticed ]w 
 never left the poop. In the afternoon it gr(>w 
 fofTory and from the forecastle the dismal sound 
 of the fog horn came. Being now well up the 
 frulf we w^erc in the neio-hborhood of many vessels, 
 and a collision was possible. W^e sighted no ship, 
 however, until late in the afternoon, when we 
 
THE STAMMER OF SORRO^^^ 
 
 415 
 
 saw masttops above the fo<j^. S)ie provc<l to l)o a 
 larcje vessel in splend: order. Ranf]fint( close to 
 us, her captain asked if we bad a pilot. Answer- 
 ed yes, be replied lie bad none. Our captain told 
 them to follow ns. Instead of that, the order was 
 ifiven to set more sail and in a few minutes she 
 wns lost to sijrbt. Our pilot shook bis bead as 
 he remarked, "She lieadinjx for Min^^an rocks." 
 When it beijan to j^row <lark, order ijiven to let 
 rfo the anchor. The noise of the rattlin^r cable 
 was like thunder. A child died today, a sweet 
 l,drl todler that Aileen was fond of. Many of the 
 sick are sinking tonio^bt, not one of whom but 
 might have lived witli proper sustenance, for it 
 is the period of convalescence that pn^ves fatal 
 in nine cases out of ten. Mouldy sea biscuit of 
 the coarsest kind and foul water siniplv kill the 
 patient who has got over the fever, yet we have 
 iiotbini*' else to offer to satisfy their cravinLrs. 
 
 12. — Anchor was wcigluMl at daylight and when 
 I came out on <leck found we wei'e tacking to- 
 wards south shni"(\ which was concealed by a fo"-- 
 bank. Afterwards the wind veered to the east, 
 and a drizzlinix rain set in. Weath.i- thick all 
 (la}^ cold and disagreeaV>le, with satisfaction, how- 
 ever, of knowing we are making good progress. 
 The pilot, like the captain, is anxious to make 
 all possible speed, an<] even the top stun sails were 
 set. This was a sad day between decks. There 
 were four deaths and the number of sick greatly 
 
 J- V 
 
 m i 
 
 (i 
 
ri« 
 
 410 
 
 GLEANER TALE.S. 
 
 increased. No wonder: the air is that of a chaniol 
 vault and the people are so weak from want (»f 
 food that they have no strength to resist disease. 
 IIJ. — During tlie night was roused by the noise 
 of the anchor leing let go. On leaving my cahiii 
 was astounded, for I stepped into brilliant sun 
 shine, in whose beams the waters danced, while, 
 like a pan(jrama, a lovely landscape was unrolled 
 on either side. No longer a weary waste of water, 
 with an unchanging horizon, met my view, but 
 a noble river, rolling between picturesque banks. 
 The north was rugged, with lofty hills, wooded 
 to the sunnnit; the south was an undulating slope, 
 along whose lower edge ran a line of small white- 
 washed houses, so near each other as to form a 
 street. The fields were Hushed with green and 
 some of the tree-tops thickened with bud and 
 bursting leaf. Evidently the occupants of each 
 liouse ha<l a farm, which ran like a riband from 
 the river to nigh the head of the slope, which 
 was crowned with woods. At regular intervals 
 in the line of houses there is a chui'ch — plain 
 stone edifices with high pitched roofs, which, with 
 steeples, are tinned, giving them a foreign look. 
 We were waiting for the tide to turn, the breeze 
 being insufficient to enaV)le the ship to beat against 
 the current. On the other side of the river were 
 four large ships, at anchor like ourselves. As the 
 morning wore on a boat was seen to leave the 
 shore and row towards us. The gunwale of our 
 
Tin: scMMKii or smMiow. 
 
 417 
 
 'at against 
 river were 
 5. As the 
 
 >]\\\) was crnwdcd with pusscnLitTs watcliiiiL;" In'r 
 approach. ( )n comiiiL;' lunr us, the two nicii in 
 lilt' hojit (lid not seem tn I'iilicX' oiir looks, tor 
 
 thcv <ii<l not throw their line to u.> 
 
 'ri 
 
 i('\' 
 
 had 
 
 cVK 
 
 h'litl' 
 
 V conic to sell us thf iiro\isions tht\' liad 
 aii()ai'd. "I^iiy to, wliat arc yoii ai'c.-ircd (»!'," .shonL 
 thi' h(>atswaiii. ( )nc of tli<' men shook his lihic 
 
 C(| 
 
 cowK'd licad. ' I'.-irlcN' \dus l*'ianca: 
 
 IC Cl'lCll 
 
 What <1 
 
 ( )( 'S 
 
 lie s{i\' ' ' the lioiitswain aske(l m* 
 
 I thiidv he wants to know li* you speak Krench. 
 lilast his hinipudence; what do(s he think ni^ 
 
 inoiner was: 
 
 I 
 
 wants none sieh lini-'o,' I'etoi'tec 
 
 the salt. Seareil l)\' the row of whiti' i' 
 
 aces 
 
 til 
 
 men had plainly <lceided t(; t'o'/eL;(> tin* pi-oMts ol 
 trade t'l'om t'cai- of infection. ( )ne had seized his 
 oar to l)i'in<^ the hoats hcatl to shore wlu-n, re- 
 callinii" all the French words 1 ha<l ever heard, J 
 shouted 'Lait,'" and held out a pail with one 
 hand and sixpence with the other. I'hey swun 
 
 (r 
 
 rouu( 
 
 1, 
 
 d 
 
 md one o 
 
 f tl 
 
 le men can 
 
 -ht 
 
 mv ])ai 
 
 I' 
 
 filled 
 
 it and handed it hack. ]*ointin^' to some loaves 
 he <;ave me one I'or a sixpence, and several othei* 
 passen-j^ers l)ou<i^ht the rest of them. This done, 
 the boat lift. With that nnlk Aileen hopes to 
 save the lives of the few infants left. The hread 
 , thouMi it was heavv and had a 
 ish taste. When the tide beiian to 
 
 d( 
 
 was welcome 
 sour 
 
 pecu 
 
 lar 
 
 make, the order to wi-igh the anchor was oi\en. 
 The ships to the north ot* us were* (hiing the same, 
 and the sailors' son<>s came over the water with 
 
 as 
 
n.s 
 
 (Jr.KANKIt TALKS. 
 
 lu'Mutil'nl cjulciicc, l.lciKliiii;- with tli«' chorus ni nui* 
 n\vn (Ti'W, which liromi with "liaiil in the hjiwliiic. 
 tlic l»l;ick >hij)'s ji roll in;;'," niid elided decliirinn' t'mt 
 "Katie is siiy djiilinn'." With a lai'i^e spread of 
 <'an\as we ino\ed slowly up the mighty I'iver t'o|- 
 the wind was lii;ht. hi spite of our dismal siir- 
 rouin!inL;s, this was a day of (juiet d(di;;ht to 
 Aileeii and myself. The extraordinary width of 
 tile ri\ei', said to he oVel' tell miles, its Waters, 
 pure and of deej) hliie color, claspiii;^- at intervals 
 a ])ictures(|ue island, the hoMness of the woofleil 
 Idlls on the north shore and the hri^htness and 
 t'tness of the c'.llti\ate(] laiidsca])e on the south, 
 re a constant i'east for eves wearied of the sea. 
 
 S( ) 
 
 W( 
 
 The depth and tender hlue of the sky, so iiiucli 
 more transparent than in the <lear old land, par- 
 ticularly impressi'd Aileen. As we made our way 
 up the glorious river, the si )res trended nearer, 
 the hills on tlie north j-'rew loftier jiikI the 
 southern hank less steep. The siui had set in a 
 Li'lorv of Li'old and crimson hevond the hills when 
 the ordvr was n'iN'en to let i;'o the anchor, the 
 
 tid 
 
 e no lo'ili 
 
 L^'i' serNiiiLi' us. Ouarter a mile ahead of 
 
 us a layiic shii) did the same. The evenini'" heinii' 
 calm Aileen Liot a wrai) and we sat watchine- the 
 darkening waters and the shores that looiiied 
 momenta rilv more faint, until the liohts from the 
 house windows alone marked where they were. 
 "What is that.''" she suddenly exclaimed, and I 
 saw a shapeless heap move past our ship on the 
 
Tin: Sl'MMKIl (»K soUlloW 
 
 41!) 
 
 Minis nl niir 
 
 tlic iinwliiir 
 
 • '(•liuinM- tliat 
 
 <• SJ)l'('a(| nt" 
 
 ity river fm- 
 
 • iisiiial sur- 
 
 . <l('li<;iit t<» 
 
 ly width nf 
 
 its wjitrrs, 
 
 at intervals 
 
 tlie woodcil 
 
 ^•lltness ami 
 
 )n tlie soutli. 
 
 il of the sea. 
 
 cy, so iiiueli 
 
 I<1 land, pai'- 
 
 i<k' our way 
 
 ided nearer, 
 
 er and the 
 
 lad set in a 
 
 L3 hills when 
 
 anchor, the 
 
 )ile ahead of 
 
 eninij" l)einn' 
 
 i'atchin<i- tlie 
 
 uhat loomed 
 
 its from the 
 
 they were. 
 
 nied, and I 
 
 ship on the 
 
 out'-'oinL' tide. PresentU' tliere was another and 
 another. ('raninL;- my head oNcr the hulwaiU I 
 watched. Another came, it caught in onr calle, 
 and Itefore the swish of the current wasln-d it 
 ckai', I cauL^ht a glimpse of a white face. I un- 
 derstood it all. The shi]) ahead of us hail emi- 
 irrants and thev wei'e throwin<r ovej-hoai'd their 
 dead. Without telling" Aileeii, I u^rasped her ai'm, 
 and di'ew her to our cahin. 
 
 14. — An eventfid da^', the cons(M|Uences of which 
 I fear, althoui;h, recalling e\cry detail, I do not 
 se'c ]»ow 1 coidd have acted otherwise. Anxious 
 to See this country, so new and l>ri;..,dit to me, I 
 rose at davlisiht. The shin was undei* plain sail. 
 
 *^y 
 
 V 
 
 V 
 
 heating' against a northwest wind, and making' 
 little headwaN'. One of our lads who had heen 
 taken to help the sailors was ordered hy the mat(^ 
 u[) the foi-emast to put to ri<;hts some tackle that 
 
 had li'ot entaniiled in the last tack 
 
 The h,,v 
 
 hlundered, and the nuite repeated the; ordei-with 
 Ins customary oaths. A^-ain the lad tried to 
 do what ho was bid and failed. Ordei-ini;' a sailor 
 to go U]i and do the work, the m\te shouted t 
 the boy to come down. He did so reluctantly 
 
 o 
 
 for he saw tlie mate had grasped a i-ope's end. 
 Cursing him for Ids slowness, the mate seized 
 his feet while still in the ratlines. He fell 
 violently on the deck, when the mate proceeded 
 to shower blows with the heavy rope on the 
 head and back of the boy, who cried piteously 
 
 ■■i«| 
 
420 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 t ' Tm 
 
 for mercy. I conlil not stand it: my Mood wjh 
 l)oiliii;^''. "Stop," I shouted, "liMve pity on tli.' 
 Itov: he did not mean to disohcy vour order. It 
 was liis sorrow for Ins motlier who die(l ]a<t 
 nii^lit that Cfmfnscd liim." Th(; mate paused in 
 liis lasliinix of tlie hid and lilarecl at me with 
 sueli a malignant h)()k as I pray tlie saints T may 
 never aiiain liave east on me. "Mind youi' husines<, 
 (hmni you, or 111 have \'on put in irons foi- nni- 
 tiny," he sliouted and an;iin laid tlie rope acm-N 
 tlie lad's (piiveriuL;- l»ody \.ith liercer streiiLitli. 
 It was, perhaps, foolisli for m}" own interests lnit 
 I could not ludp it. I spiani;- at the mate jupI 
 dealt him a ))lovv in tlie face. He clutched Ik.M 
 of me and we e-rappled. He was strong', with 
 muscles toughened by tiMitinu' sea ami wind, hiit 
 a Sli^o boy of my inches will take o<lds from iin 
 man in a wrestle. \Ve fell time and auaiii. he 
 beneath me, but lie always manag-ed to wi-ingle 
 up again, until I got a good hold of his neck, 
 tlien I bent liim under me and rained blows nn 
 every part of him mv riixht tist could reacli. .\11 
 Mmt the cheatiiifi' villain had done, his ci-ueltie> 
 to my people, his brutal inditierence to their suf- 
 ferings, flashed across my mind, and lent vim to 
 every blow I dealt. How the scoundrel howled 
 for help and, finall\^ for mercy. Not one of tlie 
 sailors interfered. They drew off to the forepeak 
 and looked on, glad to see his punishment. The 
 passengei's who were on deck formed in a circle 
 
 B ' 
 
THE sr.MMEll ol' SOIllloW 
 
 421 
 
 Hrouiid us, (l«"lii^-lit(.Ml at tlie si^lit. Oik' of tlicni, 
 I recall, popped up IVuiii the Iwitchway and lield 
 t a l»lacktlu)i-n to iiic with the explanation, "To 
 
 eU 
 
 Hnisli liiiii Oil' wid, ver honor 
 
 I 
 
 ne( 
 
 .led 
 
 no 
 
 ;hil 
 
 lelah. Tlie fcai" that I niiiilit I'atalK' iniui'f the 
 
 1 
 
 )Ul 
 
 Hone eausLMi nie to pans* 
 
 t( 
 
 V 
 
 I Liathertd him 
 
 up in niv aiMus Tor a iinal Ltfoi't, wlien a slrani't.' 
 
 J saw in my mind's eye, as 
 
 til 
 
 h 
 
 nil'' na])i)ene(i m 
 
 dn 
 
 1 
 
 tliey passed hei'ore me, the white face of one 
 aftei- the othej" of the dead I heljxd to droj) into 
 the sea. It was one of those freaks the iniaij'i- 
 iiJition plays wlu^n the mind is intensely excited. 
 This conld not hav(.' taken over ?•. moment or two, 
 I'Ut I saw them all, plainly and distinctly. Sol- 
 enniizcd yet stieiiuthened hy the si^ht, L was 
 U'iven a ])ower 1 had not. 1 raised the cra\en, 
 who was whining" and sobhin^', as hiL;h as my hreast 
 and Huni;' him ciway as far as I could. Fortune 
 fa\ored him, he fell on a coil of ro})e, whei'e he lay 
 liel])less. 'Idle >tt'wai'd Went to lnm,wi[)ed tin- Mood 
 fi'om his eyes, and finally he was ahle to I'isc and, 
 leaninii' on the stewai'd's left shoulder, shntllcd to 
 the cahin. By this time every man of my ])cople 
 idile to leave the hold was on deck, an excited 
 throuLf. ea^er for tij-htini''. 'Tf they la\' a hn<'vr 
 n vees foi" what \'e've so natelv done, wc 11 hreak 
 
 y wan o' tliim, said a county 
 
 ( ) 
 
 the licads av i\er 
 
 I^citrini man to me, and I knew that was the 
 
 spirit of them all. Softly (([x'uinL;' the door of 
 
 tiU 
 
 r little cahin I was thankful to llnil Ailee 
 
 u 
 
422 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 asleep. Getting a change of clothes, for those I 
 had on were torn and hloodstained, I slipped out, 
 Iia<l a wash in a bucket of saltwater, and then 
 (h-essed nivself. At breakfast I told Aileen all. 
 She was much shocked at the danger I had run, 
 and when satisfied I had received no c^reater 
 injuiy than sundry hlack and blue bruises from 
 kicks and blows and some handfuls of hair the 
 coward ha<l torn from my head, she became 
 alarmed for the result. Assaultinii' an officer on 
 shipTx)ard I knew was a serious offence in the 
 eyes of the law, and s(j did Aileen. "I don't 
 thirds," I said to her, "you need fear their punish- 
 ing me according to law, for they know if I am 
 taken before a court, all the villainy of captain 
 and mate towards the passengers would come out. 
 They have broken the law in fift}^ ways, and 
 know it. What I fear is the captain trying to 
 take tlie law into his t)wn hands before we reach 
 Quebec." We passed the day on deck as usual, 
 appearing as unconcerned as might be. Whether 
 the captain entertained any notion of arresting 
 me, .1 cannot sav, for he made no sijxn. The siiiht 
 of a scoi'c or so of my people keeping nigh me 
 Avherever I moved, from whose coats peeped the 
 end of wliat they called "a bit av a slitick," may 
 have had some influence in deterring him, but 
 the real cause I opine to be what the boatswain 
 whisperetl to me in the evening, that the steward 
 had told the captain the sailors to a man would 
 
THE srMMKR OF SoltlJoW 
 
 4.2:; 
 
 110 crreater 
 
 10 stewaivl 
 wan woiiM 
 
 refuse to put a hand on me. 'riH'V liate tlie mate^ 
 who, by t!ie wav, accord inii* to the cal»in h<>v. is 
 Ivinj; ill Ids berth, alternatelv* j-i'oaninir with ])ain 
 an<l swearino- from ra^'e. We made litth' i)r(!'ress 
 today. Tlie wind was ahead and we ke[)t tack- 
 inj^ every halt* lionr or so. l!i Iteatini; up tli( 
 I'iver thus, a shi[) overliauled us. She was j 
 Clyde trader, and beini.;' shoi'ter she wore mor< 
 
 (|U1C 
 
 kly 
 
 an( 
 
 1 I 
 
 ieniii" 
 
 1 
 
 leavier 
 
 lad 
 
 en sai 
 
 led 
 
 mor 
 
 closely to the wind, and owinu;' to these advmi 
 
 taoft'S she outsailed 
 
 us. 
 
 As she 
 
 passe 
 
 d 
 
 us, 
 
 ] 
 
 HM 
 
 captain stood at the stei'n an<l danij;le(l a i"ope 
 to us, as if oft'erini^- to take our slop in tow. 
 Our captain, with an oath, i-ushed down the eoni- 
 panionway to hide his mortification. In the after- 
 noon a discovery was made that sent }oy to the 
 heart of every passenger. A V)oy had hauled u|» 
 a pailful of water to douse his head in, aftrr get- 
 ting his hair clipped, when he got a taste of it 
 and found it was fivsh. The tide Wfis out. and 
 at tl 
 
 le 
 
 1 
 
 H)l 
 
 nt we now had reache(l, at the shick 
 
 the water is fresh. Pailful aft<'r ])ailful was 
 hauled on board, an<l the sick were- su})])lied 
 without stint, with watei* sweet, clear and cool. 
 Alas, the refreshing- drauLiht came too late for 
 seven, wh(^ died ilurinii* the dav. I wantt'd to 
 keep the bodies on board in hoprs of gi\ ing theni 
 burial, but the boatswain advised othei'wise, as 
 he said, altlu^uii'h we were within a shoi't distance 
 of tpuirantine with the present wind we might 
 
 'I 
 
424 
 
 c;ij:axk!{ talks. 
 
 !)•' two oi- tlirc'c (lays ol' inakiii;'' it. Ship aiiclioi' 
 oA at darkening', close to shore. 
 
 I 
 
 K 
 
 einaiiKM 
 
 1 at 
 
 iiiehor a 
 
 11 (1; 
 
 IV 
 
 Co\(] ^vitll 
 
 iti'oiiL;- wind fi'oiii north-west. At intervals theii 
 
 rixinij' showei's o 
 
 sec 
 
 were s(jualls, aeeonipanicd hy di 
 rain and hail. Three hours' i'air wind would 
 us at (|uarantine, yet hei-e we ai'e unalde to ad- 
 \anee a vai'(l on our wav. Five deaths tod;iv. I 
 resolved the hodies he ke])t i'o]" hui'ial. boat- 
 swain told nie mate is worse to<lav, heiuL!" feverish. 
 The pilot hltMl him and the captain o-ave him a 
 \)\u(' pill. Not heing needed to work the ship, 
 all )i;iiids were en^a^cd in putting the vessel into 
 ht'i' hest trim, sci-apin^-, seruhhinn', and j^aintiuL^-. 
 (Jutwardly the ship is neat and clean, a sight to 
 
 < ,( 
 
 ■linht 
 
 I sailors eve, and to look at her from 
 
 the deck it is hard to conceive of the puti"id stat( 
 
 ( > 
 
 f her h(dd. The stewai'd hrihed seNci'al of the 
 
 ])asS(Mlg TS w 
 
 ith wluskv to (dean the ste 
 
 ps 
 
 am 
 
 a;lt'\'-\N a vs of the steerage A steamer painted 
 
 \\ 
 
 hit( 
 
 itl 
 
 e ami will) a nous* 
 
 the len<>th of hei' deck 
 
 pMssed us, l:(>iUl'' east. 
 
 !(i 
 
 i;e sou 
 
 nd of tl 
 
 e anclun" heinii- wem 
 
 woke me aiK 
 
 1 1 h 
 
 leard u. witn 
 
 th 
 
 loV 
 
 1 d 
 
 .■hed 
 I 
 
 resse< 
 
 a '.id u'axe 
 
 th 
 
 ail(>rs a hand. The wind had 
 
 Nccred into the east, and it looked as if rain was 
 
 eonun! 
 
 The f( 
 
 il 
 
 ore manisau jiavnig Deen si 
 
 li 
 
 't, tl 
 
 le 
 
 1 
 
 ) SW( 
 
 pt 
 
 on, 
 
 k. 
 
 i'ei)nii'' 
 
 1 
 
 th 
 
 le cnannc 
 
 ■1 
 
 as easilv as 
 
 if propelletl hy steam. When Aileen came out, 
 the church hells were I'inging' for early mass, and 
 
THK srMMEll OF SOKKOW 
 
 42 
 
 0"; 
 
 we could make out tlic people drivinn" aloni;' the 
 i"(»{i(ls to attend, lu'ports from the steeraij^e are 
 liloomv. '^riiei'e have Ikm'U tlirce deaths dnriiiLi" 
 the iiiyht. It secins as it' a miiidiei" of the siek 
 had i-eached that point that their (h-()|)pini:; olY is 
 
 ine\i 
 
 tahl( 
 
 The river was dotttMl with siui)s fol- 
 
 InWlll''' le 
 
 aiK 
 
 1 tl 
 
 le s: 
 
 ■htof 
 
 so 
 
 I' 
 
 iiiaiiv lartie vessels 
 
 iii(>\ine' maiesticallv in a column in our rear fasei- 
 nated mt^ IJy and l»y the rain came on, when 
 Aileen left to pack our trunks, for we are fully 
 ]H'rsuade<l the wind will hold and that we will 
 land in (^)uehec hefoi'e dark, hiddini;' farewell to 
 this ship of misery. When (|narantine was sight- 
 ed, I d)'o])})ed in to see how she was netting on, 
 and hndine- my hell) not needed, wi'ote this, in all 
 prohahility, the last entry I will lUfd^e on hoard. 
 
 (Jrt)sse Isle, Mav •> 1 . — Fourteen days since I 
 
 pe 
 
 nne( 
 
 1 al 
 
 nie m 
 
 tl 
 
 lis so 
 
 1-rowful I'ecoi'd. I wish 1 
 
 had not live(l to pen another. ( lod's will he done 
 hut, oh, it is hard to say it. ^'et 1 ask myself 
 what riiiht have 1 to I'epine:' (Jrievous as ha.'- 
 
 1 
 
 )een m 
 
 y 
 
 OSS, 
 
 what is it comnared with that of 
 
 d 
 
 .f tl 
 
 many ot those aror.nd me, whose (|Uk 
 
 di 
 
 ■t sul 
 
 (imssioii 
 
 re 
 
 hul 
 
 vcs ni\' s( 
 
 ■Itisl 
 
 I soi'r()W 
 
 iMioUiih of this, let 
 
 me resume m\' reeor( 
 
 \Vh 
 
 tl 
 
 leii the shi[) came 
 
 abi'cast of the <[uarantine huildiie^s, all fresh from 
 a new coat (jf whitewash, the anchor was dropped. 
 It was nearly an hour hefore the (|Uarantine oilicer 
 came on board, and I heard liim on stepping from 
 
42G 
 
 GLEAXEIl TALES. 
 
 m 
 
 liis boat apol()giz(3 to our Cfi})taiii for the dulay, 
 owing to his waitiiijj;' for hi-cnkfast. The captain 
 to(jk liini down to tlu^ cabin and it was a loni^; 
 while before lie re-appeared, wlien lie stepped 
 down to the main deck, where all the passengers, 
 able to be out of bed, were waiting him. Ht* 
 walke<l round us, asked a few to hold out their 
 tongues, and then went (hnvn into the liold, where 
 he stayed only a nnnute or so. Passing a few 
 words with the captain, he I'e-entered his boat 
 and was rowed back to the island. N(j sooner 
 had lie left, than the boatswain ufot orders to 
 have all boats nia<le ready to take the sick ashore. 
 First the dead were bi'ought up. The sailors 
 shrank back, there was a muttered consultation, 
 and the boatswain, takinuc me aside, told me thev 
 would not touch them or even row a boat that 
 held them, and I had better drop them overboard. 
 "Never," I cried, "shall it be said that the bodies 
 of the faithful did not receive Christian burial 
 when it was possible to give it." Calling out 
 from among my people four men whom I knew 
 were fishermen, I asked them if they would row 
 the dead ashore, and on saying they would, the 
 boatswain let me have a boat. Decently the 
 
 jodies were passed 
 
 d 
 
 over and we made our way 
 
 I. 
 
 to the landino-. We had trouble in srettino' them 
 
 o 
 
 out of the boat, for the ste[)s of the (piay were 
 out of repair, but we managed it and carried 
 them to what, from the cross on it, we saw was 
 
THE SUMMKK OF SORKoW 
 
 427 
 
 saw w?is 
 
 a church. The priest came out, and I told liiiii 
 our purpose. Leaving' the <h'a(l in tlie cliurcli, 
 \v(5 went back to the sliip foi- the otliers. V>y 
 this time the sick were being lan(U'(l, and roui^hly 
 handled they were. As it wouM be awhiU' })efoi*e 
 the graves would be ready, I lent a hand — th(3 
 most miserable, heartrending work I had ever 
 engaged in. With indecent haste they were hur- 
 ried from the ship deck into the boats, and t(jssed 
 on to the steps of the ({uay. careless of what 
 injury they might receive. Most were unable to 
 lu^lp themselves in the least, a few wei*e d; lirious. 
 Men, women, and children were all treated the 
 same, as so much rubbish to hv. i^ot rid of as 
 ({uickly as possible. It was no better on land. 
 The (juarantine had oidy two men to spare to 
 help the few relatives who came ashore to carry 
 them from the wharf to the buildings, and nianv 
 lay an hour in a cold pelting rain. It signified 
 little as to their getting wet, for they were all 
 doused by the waves in landing them on the 
 (juay. Small wonder two died on the quay, and 
 were boi'ne to the chapel to add to the luimber 
 awaiting burial there. The priest was very con- 
 siderate, and, although I did not ask it, said mass, 
 which I knew woidd l>e a gi-eat consolation to the 
 relatives. Leaving the cemetery with the priest, 
 I thanked him from my heart, and ran to the 
 (juay. My heart was in my mouth when I saw 
 on it Aileen, standing beside our boxes, and the 
 
 rm' 
 
42S 
 
 (;m:a\p:k tai.es. 
 
 
 I 
 
 sliip, li;i\iiiL; trippL'<l lier jmclior, Ix'fU'iii;^ u]) tlic 
 i-ix'cr. "What inakcs yon look so ut uiv, (JoraM.'' 
 I liavf! come as you asked." 
 
 "I lu'vcr scut for yoii. ' 
 
 "Tlic stcwai'd told 1IU3 yon liad sent \v<r<l ly 
 tlic sailoi's i'oi- inc to conic ashore, that von wci"c 
 'j-inu'j- to stav hci'c. 'riicy carried the Ini^ijai^e into 
 a l)()at a.nd I followed." 
 
 I groaned In spirit. I saw it all. l>y a villain- 
 ons trick, the captain had <4'ot lid of inc. Instcatl 
 of liein<'- ill (,)nel)cc that dnv, here I was left at 
 the (juarantinc-station. "My ])()or Aileen, I know 
 not wliat to do: niv trouble is for von. ' I went 
 to see the liead of the estahlishnient, l)r Donelas. 
 He ])i'()ved to he a fussy i;"entlenian, woi'ried over 
 a nnniher of details. Professini;" to he ready to 
 oltlige, he said there was no help foi" me until 
 the steamer came. "When will tliat he:*" Next 
 Satni'day. A week on an island full of people 
 sick with fe\-erl Aileen, hi-ave lieart, made the 
 hest of it. She was soakini!' wet, yet the only 
 shelter, a})ai't fi'om the fever sheds, which were not 
 to be thought of, was <in outhouse with a leaky roof, 
 with no possibility of a lire uv change of clothinj;-. 
 How 1 cursed myself for my rashness in makin^^' 
 captain and mate my enemies, for the penalty 
 had fallen not on me, but on my Aileen. Then- 
 was not an armful of straw to be had: not even 
 boards to lie on. I went to the cookinu' bootli, 
 and found a Frenchman in cliar^e. Briljinu; liini 
 
Tin: SIMMKK OK SolllloW 
 
 42!l 
 
 
 ( I 
 
 with ft .sliilliiiL;' lu' !l;;ivc' iiic a lo.vi' jitid a tin of liot 
 tea. Aik'on could not rat a hitc, tlioiiuh slic ti'icd 
 to <lo so to ])l('as(' nu', but <Irauk tlic tea. Tlic 
 rain continu'.'d and tlic cast wind ])i'n('trat('d 1m'- 
 twccn the boards of th«^ wretched shcilint;'. What.-i 
 ni:L,djt it was I I ])ut my coat ovci* Aih'cn, I 
 pressed lici" to my liosom to impart some heat t 
 her cliilled frame, I endeavored to cheer lier with 
 prospects of the morrow. Alas, wlien moi'uinn 
 came she was unable to mo\'e, and fevei* and chill 
 alternated. I souLiht the doctor, he wa- not to 
 be liad. Otlier emii^'rant shi})s had ai-rived, and 
 he was visitinij them. Beyond ^iNiuLi- her water 
 to assuaire lier tliirst when in the fever it was 
 
 not in m}'' power to do anytinn 
 
 'th 
 
 It 
 
 was evennii:- 
 
 when the doctor, yieldini^ to my importunities, 
 came to see lier. He did not stay a nnnute and 
 writinii* a few lines tohl me to o() to the hospital 
 steward, wlio would oive me some medicine. Wliy 
 recall the dreadful niMits and duvs that followed;* 
 What profit to tell of the pain in the breast, the 
 ragring f(»ver, the delirium, the agonizin^j;* L,rasping- 
 for breath — the end t The foui'th day, with 
 bursting" heart and throbbini^- head, I knelt liy 
 the corpse of my Aileen. There was not a soul 
 to help; everybody was too full of their own 
 
 troubles to be able to heed i 
 
 lie 
 
 rp 
 
 n 
 
 le IS 
 
 land 
 
 was 
 
 now tilled with sick emigrants, and death was on 
 every side. I dug her grave, the priest came, I 
 laid her there, I tilled it in, I stairiierod to the 
 
 ^^ i 
 
 
 (li 
 
 no 
 
4.S0 
 
 fiLKANKU TALKS. 
 
 slicd tliJit luid sliclti'i'cd us, I fell tVoiii sljocr cx- 
 liaustion, and iniieinlKT no more. Wljcn I woke, 
 I lu'jird tlic patter ot* I'ain, and felt so incx- 
 pivssihly wcaiy I could tliink of nothini;", nnicli 
 less make any exertion. My eyi^ fell on Aileeus 
 shawl, and the past rushed on me. Oh, tlu; aj;'ony 
 of that hour; my remorse, v\y sorrow, my he- 
 seechini;s of the Unseen. Such a ])aroxysm could 
 not last louii", and when exhausted nature com- 
 pelled me to lie down, I turned n»y face to the 
 wall with the earnest prayer I mitiht never 
 awaken on this earth. Mow lonuj I slept I know 
 not. Some motion of one lednin^r over me hi'ouj^lit 
 1 >ack consciousness. 
 
 "I'a.x tecum," said a voice I seemed to recall. 
 "Et cum spiritu tiio," I mechanically responded. 
 
 I opened my eyes. Could I believe them^ It 
 was Fath(,'r Moylan. I put my arms round his 
 neck, and kissed him a score of times. 
 
 "Fatlu'r, dear; sure it nuist Ije the Blessed Viririn 
 lierself sent 3^ou to console me for the loss of lier 
 daui^hter, my Aileen, my love." 
 
 "My consolation would he of little aid; hut as 
 an unworthy servant of the church I may be the 
 channel of conununicatinof the consolation that 
 doth avail. May the Mother of Sorrows, whose 
 heart w^as pierced by the sight of her son's death, 
 heal thy w^ound. I knew not Aileen was dead." 
 
 ''Did Father McGoran not tell you?" 
 
 "Like everybody else in this wretched place his 
 
THE SI'MMEIl OF ?;nl(IH>U' 
 
 4:il 
 
 me broiiixlit 
 
 s roinid his 
 
 esscd ViriTfiii 
 loss of her 
 
 liands jire too full tc pcrniit of Nprccii that can 
 1)0 (lisjx'iiscd with. A lad called on iiic at (^)iu'l)('f' 
 to tell lilt' of how vou had ht'cii left hchind and 
 ht'SouL^ht iiic to h('l[) you an<l your wife." 
 
 H 
 
 IS nanu' 
 
 fatl 
 
 HT 
 
 Michaol Fa<j^an." 
 
 'V\]v i^i'atc'ful soul; the hoy I sto{)],)(Ml the iiiati; 
 
 roni 
 
 lasl 
 
 unu 
 
 )U 
 
 "Ife it was, for he told me all and of what yr 
 had Ik'cu to the sick on the voya^^r. I intended 
 
 coming" an^'way 
 
 to see what I could do for our 
 
 poor countiy people, hut when I knew of my 
 pupil heinir here in distress, 1 went to the ^>isho[) 
 to ask to he sent at once." 
 
 "And how did you lind me?" 
 
 "By seai'chini;". The last hour I have o'one 
 throuu'h evei'\' huildin^' lookini:' for V(m and came 
 
 in course 
 
 to tl 
 
 lis ou 
 
 tluMl 
 
 se 
 
 "May the saints ease' your <lyinL;" hour for this 
 kindness, father. Oh that you had come while 
 
 Ail 
 
 een was alive 
 
 (>> 
 
 "Fret not over the past, (Jei'ald; there is work 
 calling for you which you must rise and do." 
 
 "I have no heart to lift my lu.'ad: I want to 
 die and l)e with Aileen." 
 
 "A wish natural t'j the flesh, my son, but I 
 taught you to little avail if I did not ground 
 you in the heliot that it is the duty of the 
 Christian to so direct the blind sorrow of fallen 
 humanity that it becouie an impulse to aore 
 
m 
 
 4:}2 
 
 <jij:ankk tai.ks. 
 
 stiTiiuous (liscli;irL;(! of our daily diitii'S. Ailcn 
 is <irjul: r('(|uirsc}it fii ])iut. Is yniir sorrow for 
 lici' to lie >i scllisli sori'ow tluit will add to \i»ur 
 load ol' sin: or shall it ln'coiiic an incitement t^ 
 voii to do for tlio-^e around \'oU what she Wnidd 
 wish you to do could she s|)eak^"' 
 
 "Do not ask nie; I cainiot i'<»i;n'et hei*." 
 "^^)U are not asked to i'oi'i;'et her. M'ly you 
 ever see her in \'oui' mind s e\-e, hecd^onin!-" \'o!i 
 on to works of I'aith and mercy; may her preciou*^ 
 memoiy he yoin* inspiration to do what duty 
 calls i'rom youi- hand." 
 
 "Tiicre is no nee(l of mv help now." 
 "No iM'vd I ] ttdl you every luair there ar<' 
 Irish men and women dvinir within a furlonii' of 
 you for hu-k of the connnonest helj). IJefore 1 
 came here, I found sick who had not ha<l their 
 fevt'r assuae-ed hy a droi) of water for IN houis: 
 cliildren who liad not tasted a bite since vesterdav: 
 tlie dead lyiue- licside the living-, and all hc.'cause 
 there is none to help." 
 
 "I do not understand why tliat sliould he on 
 hind. Tiiere is plenty of food and help in Quehec. ' 
 "Yes, and so there was on your ship, hut a 
 heartless captain and a greedy mate stood he- 
 tween the food and water and the passeneers. 
 There is abuudance of everything within sight of 
 here, yet our countrymen are perishing by the 
 score, because the government of Canada is deaf 
 to their cries." 
 
Tui: sr.MMi:i{ ok sdininw. 
 
 433 
 
 "What inU'iM'st can the ('aim<lijui irovr'rnim'nt 
 have in actiiiiX so?" 
 
 . "No iuttTest. It is more h('('(lh'ssiM'ss than in- 
 tent. The politicians ar<' too ahsoi-ln'il in thrir 
 paltry strifes to ^ivc Iwefl to a few thousan<l 
 Irish t'nii<;i-ants <lyin^^ at their <loor." 
 
 "It sounds incrcMJihle. ' 
 
 "That is because you <lo !'ot know politics a!i<l 
 politicians here. I tell you, (lerald, I have l)e<'n 
 in Cav.ada now three years, and (alwa^'s barring" 
 the tools of the Irish landlords) if there he a nioro 
 despicahh^ creature than the office-hunti.-iij Cana- 
 dian politician, I hav(^ yet to see him." 
 
 "If I must act, t should «j^o first to Quebec to 
 see after my pe()ple. They wen; promised ten 
 sliillings a head, to be paid by LoinI Palmerston's 
 agent at Quebec, and a deed from the Canadian 
 government for a hundred acres a faivsily." 
 
 "Faugh ! Not a shilling, not an acre did they 
 iZet. I saw them. Lord Palmerston has no atrent 
 in Quebec, the government will give no free grant 
 of land. Mere lies told the poor crathurs to get 
 them to leave Ireland." 
 
 "Well, then, I could at least make an example 
 of the captain of our ship." 
 
 "Not a bit of it; you are deceiving yourself. 
 The prosecution would have to be taken by the 
 emigration agent, and he would not, if he could 
 help it. Then, where are your witnesses? You 
 w^ould be bled of your last dollar by die lawyers 
 
 S9 
 
4:J4 
 
 fi LEA NEK TALES. 
 
 and do nothing. No, Gerald, there is no use of 
 thinkinfj oi leavintr here. Providence has o^^dded 
 yon 'o Grosse isle and here is your work. Come, 
 man, get up and do it." 
 
 I sank back with a <zroan. I did not want to 
 move, the father insisted, however, and, after 
 many remonstrances, grasped my hand and raised 
 me to my feet. He took me to where the resident 
 priest lived, insisted on my washing myself and 
 gave me, out of his bag, one of his clean slurts. 
 Then we sat down to dinner, Fathers McGoran 
 and Taschereau joining us. The conversation was 
 of the deluge of emigrants, every day bringing 
 new arrivals, and every ship with its quota of 
 sick and dying. Every available place having 
 become crowded, the ships had to remain and 
 become floating hospitals. The calamity with 
 which tliey were face to face was so unexpected 
 and appalling that how to devise means to grapple 
 with it staggered them. They spoke of the need 
 of urjxiuf; tlie oovernment to erect sheds and send 
 plenty of nurses and doctors. I listened in silence 
 until FMtlvjr Taschereau asked me for my opinion, 
 as one who was an emigrant. I said many had 
 died on the voyage and many more had been 
 landed who would certainly die, but of this I 
 was confident, there would not have been a death 
 from fever or dysentery on the voyage or one 
 sick of thjse diseases landed at Grosse isle, had 
 there been enough to eat. The solution of the 
 
^ 
 
 THE SUMMER OF SOllUOW. 
 
 485 
 
 tlifficulty therefore seeinod to me simple. (Jive 
 nil who arrive plenty ot* wholesome food. Starva- 
 tion is the cause of dysentery and fever. Remove 
 the cause and these diseases will disappear. It is 
 not medicine and nursinof that are wanted, hut 
 food. The people fled from starvation in Ireland 
 to be worse starved on board ship where their 
 lot was made worse by the lack of pure air and 
 water, of which they had no lack in Ireland. 
 They asked me many (juestions about the treat- 
 ment of the emigrants on shipboard. Father Mc- 
 Ooran said he was inclined to believe I was riufht, 
 that Dr Douj^las was makino- the mistake of 
 tifrhtinjT the fever instead of removinix what 
 caused the fever. The fever was not to be looked 
 upon as was the cholera visitation of 12 years be- 
 fore. I left the table with Father Moylan and 
 as we went out at the door, lie stood for a minute 
 to look at the sight on the river. The clouds had 
 cleared and the sun had come out strong, with a 
 marvellously soft and clear atmosphere. So far 
 as v/e could see from where we stood, the blue 
 waters of the river bore a column of vessels of 
 which neither head nor end was visible. "Let us 
 take a step over and see them," said Father Moy- 
 lan. When we reached the bank, the sight was 
 striking, and would have been most inspiring had 
 we not known that each of these noble ships was 
 a floating pest-house. There was a shout from 
 the vessel opposite us. A man stood on the gun- 
 
^ 
 
 43G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 wale, and steadying hiniselt' with one Imnd grasp- 
 ing the rigging, gesticulated with the other. His 
 agitation was so great neither of us could make 
 out what he was saying. "Speak slowly," cried 
 Father Moylan, when clear the response came 
 across the water, "For the love oi* God, father, 
 come aboord; ye're needed." There was only one 
 row boat in sio^ht, and it belonfjed to Dr. Doufjlas. 
 The oars were out of her and the chain locked. 
 "You'll have to send a boat," cried the father. 
 Tliere was a long delay, ending in a boat putting 
 oti' from the ship. He wanted me to go with 
 him, but I said I wished to find my uncle. 
 
 With heavy heart and unsteady step I turned to 
 the buildinofs where the sick were. The niirhest 
 was the best. I looked in and to my joy espied 
 my cousin Bridijet sittino: alonofside a bunk. She 
 started and gave a cry of fright when she saw 
 me, for, she explained, she thought I was in Que- 
 bec and I looked like a ghost. It was her fathei 
 and her sister Ellen who were in the l:>ed. The 
 latter had been landed sick of the fever; uncle 
 had been stricken by it the day after arrival. 
 He did not know me, and I feared the worst 
 from the sound of his moaning. The girl seeme<l 
 to be doing well. "Comfortable they be," said 
 Bridget, "this is the best place; the sheds are bad 
 as the ship." I told her to go and take the air 
 for a while, and sat down to watch in her place. 
 I was hardly seated when I distinguished a mur- 
 
V 
 
 y 
 
 THE SUMMER OF SOHllOW. 
 
 43; 
 
 mur of plaintive cries from every part of the 
 room, mostly — "Watlier, if ye plaze." I bestirred 
 myself, and when the poor souls found there was 
 somebody to help, re(;uests increased, and I was 
 kept going- from bed to bed. When Bridget re- 
 turned I remarked that I saw none of our ship's 
 people in the place. She said there was only 
 room for her father and Ellen and the others 
 were in the sheds. It was <i;rowin<r dark when 
 Father Malloy came to the door and beckoned 
 me out. He had such a distressed and wearied 
 look that I went with him without asking any 
 (questions. When we came near the outhouse I 
 had lodged in, I turned towards it. He gripped 
 my arm. 'No, Gerald, not there; you'd lapse 
 into your old mood." He took me to the {priest's 
 house, and a shake-down was made for me in 
 the kitchen. I had a wakeful nioht an<l went 
 out of doors before sunrise. To my surprise I 
 saw Father Malloy walking up nnd down in 
 front of the house, prayer-book in hand. When 
 <lone he joined me. "Now, (Jerald, we have work 
 to do; we must make an examination of every- 
 thing, for no plan can be laid until we know the 
 actual state of affairs." Re-entering the house 
 with him, he got a loaf and a jug of milk. "I 
 am going to tell you something you should never 
 forget; when you have to go where there are 
 sick, do not go with an empty stomach. Fast- 
 injL^ and infection <:jo to2:ether." Havino- broken 
 
 ^i'i 
 
V 
 
 \ 
 
 48S 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 our fast, we started, the first thing to be done, 
 tl)e father said, bein^: to see what the island was 
 like. The morning was deliohtfullv fresh and we 
 walked briskly. We found the island larger than 
 we supposed, and having a good deal of land fit 
 for cultivation. Pausing; at a field where a man 
 was harrowing, the father had a conversation with 
 liim in French. He told him the island was about 
 three miles long by one in width, and that Doctor 
 Douglas farmed a considerable part of it, keeping 
 a number of cows. Standintr on its north bank 
 a wide expanse of the St Lawrence lay at our 
 feet, the blue waters rufHed by a western breeze. 
 Beyond rose a chain of wooded hills, which swell- 
 ed into a lofty peak, overhanging the river. "That 
 is called cape Tourmente," said Father Malloy. "Is 
 it not a glorious scene ! Who, looking upon it, 
 would dream there is concentrated within ten 
 minutes' walk the miseiy of a nation? Gerald, 
 we must ffive Ireland's woe on this island a voice 
 that will bring the help of Christian people." 
 ^*— "I am afraid it will be hard to interest them. 
 Evei'ything is against the poor emigrant, father. 
 He is not looked upon as a human being. The 
 very sailors treat him as they would a steer given 
 to carry from one port to another." 
 
 "True, my boy, and you don't know it all, for 
 you have not lived in this countiy yet. I've seen 
 in New York men and women shrink from the 
 newly landed emigrant as an unclean thing, and 
 
 jkip*^ 
 
THE SUMMER OF SORROW. 
 
 4.S0 
 
 at Quebec over tliere the very bar-room loafers 
 snift' their noses in disgust at him. l^nk'ss they 
 liave money nobody makes tliem welcome; and if 
 they have money everybody tries to get it from 
 them. I buried a woman who had b(»en left to 
 die on the wharf at Quebec. The captain bundled 
 her out, nobody would touch her, let alone give 
 her shelter, and the poor sick crathur afore sun- 
 down fouii 1 I'est and is now whei'e those who 
 despised her will have little chance of going." 
 
 I asked Father Malloy about his visit to the 
 ship the day before. He told me the man who 
 shouted for him had a brother dying, who want (m I 
 the church's last rites. "It was my first visit to 
 a fever-stricken ship," lie went on to say, "an<l 
 it was a revelation. I could not stand upright 
 in her hold, for it ♦vas not nmch over 5 feet high, 
 and there was litile more elbow than head i-oom. 
 Every side was lined with berths and I saw dead 
 lying in them with the living. The stench made 
 one gasp, and the sight of the \»'rmin crawling 
 over dead and living made my flesh creep. An 
 Irish priest is used to the sights of disease and 
 want, but the emigrant-ship, fever-sti'icken, em- 
 bodies every form of wretchedness and multiplies 
 tiiem a ten -fold. ' 
 
 The (|uai-antine-buildinf*'s are huddle<l toj-vther 
 at the upper end of the island and each wc ex- 
 amined during the day. Except the one in wliich 
 uncle lay, they are tlimsy afiairs, a shelt(.'r from 
 
 • (,i 
 
V 
 
 440 
 
 GLEANER TVLES. 
 
 
 M' 
 
 
 the hviit of the sun and no more, for the hoards 
 are slirunken and the roofs leaky. In one the 
 bertlis are in double tier, like those of a ship, 
 the result being the patient in the lower berth 
 is made uncomfortable by the one above, and 
 he, in tiii'n, from weakness, can neither get out 
 nor into it without help, which he seldom gets. 
 Every place is crowded with sick, even the 
 two churches being occupied. Tlie government 
 had prepared for iH)() sick ; already tliere are 
 nigh a thousand, and many more on the ships 
 who cannot be landed for want of room. With- 
 out regard to age or sex they are huddled to- 
 gether in the sheds, and left to die or recover. 
 The attendance was hardly worth speaking of. 
 At long intervals a man or woman would come 
 round with drink and food, but there was no 
 pretence at coming for their comfort. We were 
 told by many nobody had been near them for 
 houi-s. We saw the dead lying next the living, 
 for the l)0(lies are re?noved only night and 
 morning, and in many cases there were two and 
 tlii'ee in a berth. Over all this sad scene, from 
 wdiich hope had fled, shone the virtues of patience 
 and submission to the divine will. No querulous 
 W(n'd was heard, no grund)ling; the stricken flock 
 bowed beneath the rod of afftiction with pious 
 I'osignation. Workmen were busy building a new 
 shed and tliere w^ere tents IvinL*- round, but all 
 the preparations were w^ofully insufficient. Father 
 
>• 
 
 THE SUMMEll OF SOIIKOW 
 
 441 
 
 Malloy agreed ^vitll luo tliat tlie lack of nurses 
 was even woi'se tlian the lack of shelter, and 
 thought a supply might be had fi-oui the healthy 
 emigrants. I thought not; emigrants in liealth 
 were too eager to escape after being bound to 
 scenes of hori'or on shipboanl for a month and 
 niore. We labored to do our best, and many a 
 pail of water did the father carry from the river 
 to serve out in cupfuls in the sheds. 
 
 The weather has been sorely against the sick, 
 rain with h\<A\ east winds, addin<j: to their discom- 
 fort. Nearly every day there is a fresh arrival 
 of a ship, and not one without sick on board. 
 The wind had been from the east the day before 
 and on the morning of the 2"'th a whole Heet 
 was seen bearing up the riser, of which a dozen, 
 had emigi'ants. At Father Malloy 's j-e([uest I 
 spent a day with him going from ship to ship, 
 a boat having l)een lent him by a friendly cap- 
 tain. The passengers cried with joy when they 
 saw him and clustered round the holy man, whose 
 services in administering the last consolations of 
 the church were needed at every step. I spoke 
 with the passengers while he was below, and it 
 was an unvarying tale of starvation on the voy- 
 age and cruel usage. I found the passengers on 
 ships that had been lying at anchor over a week 
 to be still starving, for the captains had not in- 
 creased the rations and I)r Douglas said ho could 
 not supply provisions from the shore unless auth- 
 
\wi^. 
 
 X 
 
 442 
 
 fJLEAXEU TALES. 
 
 % 
 
 orized by tlie Caiuidian f^overnmont. One of tlic 
 new ai-rivals had 1*5 dead on lioard. The 40 
 sliips now at anchor, liave nigh 15,000 einif^rants: 
 of these I am sure one-thii-d would not he passed 
 a? healthy. Sailoi's an; at work on shore ereetinu' 
 a sort of shelter with spars and sails, where the 
 diips will leave their healthy to perform ({Uaran- 
 ti . while they go on to Quebec. 
 
 June ']. — Father Malloy has left with the de- 
 sign of making representations to the government 
 about the condition of things here. He intended, 
 if his bisliop consented, to go direct to Montreal, 
 and speak t<j the ministers themselves. The for- 
 wai'ding of emigrants passed as healthy has be- 
 gun. They are crowded on to the steamers until 
 there is barely room to move. The reason for 
 this is, the passage money is a dollar a-head and 
 the more packed on bofird, the more profit. Truth 
 to tell, this class of emiii'Tants are eauer enono-h to 
 leave, and get away from this pbice. The mean- 
 ness of the Canadian mjvernment in dealinjx with 
 ,^>v them is shameful. Instead of allowing healthy 
 ' jmssengers to go on with the ship as at first, they 
 are now landed. Being compelled to land and 
 stay here by the governn)ent's orders, it would 
 be reasonable to expect the government would 
 provide for them. It does not; all it has done 
 is to send an agent who ofifei'S to sell them pro- 
 visions at cost. Uncle's recoveiy is hopeless; his 
 strenijfth has o-one. 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOKIloW. 
 
 44:{ 
 
 5. — Poor uncle is dead. He was buried yester- 
 day. Ellen keeps lioverin^f between life u I 
 death; she has youth on her side. Poor Bri( "ot 
 is worn to a shadow, waitin^^ on the sick. Reinf]^ 
 told a ship that came in this forenoon was from 
 Sljgo, I watched a chance to i^^'t on Ijoard, ex- 
 [)ecting to find some I knew amoni^ her passcn^^ers. 
 I found hi)v deck crowded with «.'mii» rants, watch- 
 ing the sailors Hsh up fro)' the hold with boat- 
 hooks the bodies of those w' had died since 
 enterino; the river. I soo^ i arned there was bad 
 blood between the crew a <l pass('n«^ers, all of 
 whom who could do so d left the steera^^e two 
 days l)efore and lived on deck. The hold had 
 grown so loathsome with the warm weather that 
 it became unbearable. The crew resented their 
 living on deck. The captain stood at the poop 
 rail, and proved to be a civil man. He told me 
 he had done his best for the })assengt.'rs on the 
 voyage, but the chartei-ers had poorly pi'ovisioned 
 the vessel and he could not therefore i'iv(; them 
 the rations he wished. For the bad feeling be- 
 tween the sailoi-s and passengers he could not 
 blame either. Staying on deck the emigrants 
 were in the sailors' way, yet he could not ordei* 
 them back to the hold. Three sailors had caught 
 the fever during the week, which incensL'tl their 
 comrades against the emigi-ants. He was to pay 
 the sailors a sovereign for each body brought up. 
 I told him of Captain Christian of the ship Sis- 
 
 ■. ■tX'^s 
 
V 
 
 444 
 
 ^,. 
 
 (iLEANEK TALES. 
 
 tors, who, tlio week before, when einit^nints and 
 sailors refused for any money to oo into the hold 
 to l»rin<j^ up the dead, went down himself and 
 carried them to the deck on his shoulders. I 
 hope he may li\'e to know that Irishmen arc 
 grateful, for he is now down with the fever. I 
 recognized none of the passengers, for tjiey were 
 from the northwest end of Lord Palmerston's 
 estates. Their poverty was extreme. They had 
 no luggage and many had not lags enough to 
 cover their nakedness. So hajxixard and white 
 wei*e they, so vacant their expi'ession, that they 
 looked nioi'e like an array of spectres, than of 
 human beings. Coming back, I had painful evi- 
 dence of the brutal indifference of the authorities 
 in dealing with the sick. They continue to he 
 brought from the ships to the (juay in rowboats, 
 and the line of ships heing now two miles long, 
 the journey is a long one, and often fatal in bail 
 weather. A small steamboat for transferring 
 them would be a cfodsend, but the government 
 does not get one, does not even spend ten shil- 
 lings to replace the broken planks of the steps 
 on the <iuay, although the w^ant of them causes 
 many a feeble one to slip into the river. 
 
 (). — Dr Douglas exemplifies liow a man may be 
 estimable as an individual yet unequal for his 
 duties as an official. He is so obliijino* and oracious 
 personally that it is unpleasant to find fault with 
 hin^, yet it is apparent he does not grasp the 
 
^ 
 
 THE SL'MMEH OK SOKKoNV, 
 
 44.") 
 
 ina;^nitiul(' of the atilictioii lie luis to 'leal with 
 and is imahhj to <leviso means to meet it. AH 
 the steps taken are ii(lici.h)iis in their petty na- 
 ture. I have heen told tliat it is not him h>it 
 the Canadian jL^ovennnent that is to blame, that 
 it will not allow him a free hand in meetin*^ 
 th(^ emerf^ency, does not ivspond to his calls, and 
 warns him to be cj>reful in incurrin*^^ expenditure. 
 Probably that is true, but the' j^overnment is not 
 jiccountable for the foolish rules by winch the 
 island is <ij()verned. There is now a lar^^e C(jlony 
 of supposed lj(«iithy emiL,n-ants confined to the 
 northwest corner of the island. When one falls 
 sick, instead of bein/j^ taken to the fever-sheds, 
 lie is conveyed to the ship in which he was a 
 passenger, and from her is taken to the sheds. 
 The delay an<l the fatigue of the journey by land 
 and water, if it does not kill the patient makes 
 his recovery more doubtful. Although the popu- 
 lation of the ishiTid has doublenl in a few weeks, the 
 boat with supplies from Quebec continues to come 
 once a week only. We may be starving, many 
 are starving this day, yet until the steamer comes 
 there is no help. The dead are being buried in 
 trenches, three tier deep. Men and women whose 
 stroncr arms would add to Canada's wealth are 
 being held here by its authorities to die of want 
 when within sight of plenty. I look at the row 
 of farm-houses on the opposite bank of the river, 
 on the little town whose roofs I see, and knowing 
 
 i 
 
1 
 
 44G 
 
 CJLKANKU TALKS. 
 
 '%. 
 
 there is comfort and plenty over there, marvel jii 
 the stupidity, the crinnnal disrerrard, tliat leaves 
 us without l»read to eat or even straw to tli«' 
 upon. Steamers pass daily but they are not al- 
 lowed to stop at the islan<l; my poor people are 
 kept prisoners to perish amid the rocks of this 
 island. The Almighty will surely havc^ a day of 
 reckoninj^ with the rulers of Canada, for it is 
 (^mada's territory wt; are on and it is CVnada's 
 (juarantine in which we lie hound. The sick an; 
 eveiywhere and are neglected. I found the body 
 of a man in a thicket whei-e he had crawled like 
 a scared hc^st to die in peace. Bodies are taken 
 from the tents dail}' where the healthy are sup- 
 posed to lodge. The sheds have become repugnant 
 to every sense, and the sick are worse off than on 
 ship, for few have relatives to attend them, and 
 they lie for hours without being helped even to 
 a drink of water. The inmates of a tent told me 
 nobody had been near them for two days, and 
 not one among them able to s*and for a minute. 
 Everything is against us, for the weather is wind}^ 
 N and wet. I go to spend the night in the old shed. 
 My brain is overburdened with the sorrows ot* 
 my people, and I would I w^ere at rest with 
 Aileen. 
 
 10.^ — A steamer came in this morning to take 
 away emigrants, and I am sure over a thousand 
 were packed on board. Her purser brought a 
 package of letters; one of them was for myself. 
 
y 
 
 THE sr.MMKK (»K SOIMinW. 
 
 447 
 
 Montreal, Juix* S, I.S47. 
 My Dear (icnild, — T Iwid it in miiul to Iwivii 
 wi'itton you several days tv^o, l)Ut postpoiU'<l tak- 
 in«; pen in hand day after day in expectation of 
 l)ein<»' able to convey to you the intelligence that 
 would cheei" youi* heai't — that the ^(jvernujent luul 
 decided on adoptin*; a policy of adecpiate relief. 
 That, it grieves ine to say, they hase not done, 
 although 1 have exerted myself to arouse them to 
 a sense of their duty, hut it is little a poor priest 
 can do with our puMic men. When I reached 
 here I went first to see the premier. After wait- 
 ing my turn f(jr an hour with a crowd of vi.vitors, 
 I was admitted. He was civil, but is a dull man, 
 and did not seem to realize what I was telling him. 
 He told me to go to the provincial secretary, to 
 whose department emigration belongs, and see 
 him. I left in no good hunnjr, to ilo as Mr Sher- 
 wood bade me. Mr Daly was not at ids lodgings; 
 he had gone to the back of the mountain to dine. 
 I liave learned since, he is better at dinin*^ and 
 wining than attending to his duties. I had an 
 interview with him next day. You may not know 
 that Mr Daly is of ourselves. He is a Galway 
 man himself and his lady is from Kilkenny. Ap- 
 pealing to an Irishman and a Catholic I expected 
 him to fall in with me — that all I lus.d to do, was 
 to seize him of the actual facts of the sit jation at 
 Grosse isle and he w^ould act with ene!i> '. That 
 was what I expected of him but all I got i'roui him, 
 
 '^. 
 
 •§ 
 

 448 
 
 GLEAXEIl TALES. 
 
 (jiorald, was soft words and promises, and neither 
 tlie one nor the otlier will feed tlie starving or 
 cure the sick. He toM nie to call next day, j^s 
 he wanted time to go over the reports. When I 
 went, his servant man said he was out, and I 
 never found him in again f(^r me. When the house 
 opened, I manag(;d to get in, to hear what the 
 governoi' would say about the enn'grants. The 
 words put in his mouth about them made me 
 angry. The government pretended they had made 
 ample preparation for the expected influx and 
 that everything was going on well. Beside liiin 
 stood two men smi^irig among n bevy of ladies 
 who knew better, for I had told them all. In 
 the debate since then, when a member on the 
 opposition side referred to the rumors of the state 
 of matters at quarantine, Mr Daly begged the 
 house not to give heed to alarmist reports and to 
 rest assured the government was doing everything 
 that was re(|uired, had appointed a commission 
 of three doctors to visit Grosse isle, and would act 
 on their report. I liad little respect before for 
 Canadian politicians, I have less now. I was ail- 
 vised to wait on the new minister, John A. Mac- 
 donald, the youngest member of the government. 
 I told my friend that if Mi' Daly would not do 
 the decent thing by his countrymen, I was not 
 going to ask the member for the Orange city of 
 Kingston, who, like all the others of them, is en- 
 grossed in intrigues to keep his party in oflice. The 
 
THE Sl'MMEll OK SORHOW 
 
 44!) 
 
 talk of tlio city is wlK'tluT tlu* ministry will staml, 
 ^'t^v its iiiajorit}' is only one or two, and then? is 
 a i^ood (leal of excitement al)out it. More atten- 
 tion is bein<^ paid to the rihaldry of The I'ilot tlian 
 anything" else. Tliis will not he for Ion*;-. Tlic 
 ♦ 'vil has come to the door of this city. The for- 
 wardinii' l>v wholesale of all emigrants ahle to 
 move, lias hroui^ht the fevei*. The cmiu^-ration 
 sheds are at Windniill point, an inconvenient 
 place, for there is not water enough to permit 
 the steanjers to come np to the wharf, and the 
 emi^rrants have to be landed bv scows, which is 
 sore on the sick. I am not ii^oin*^ to sav that 
 the journey from Grosse isle to here is as ba<l 
 as the voyage across the Atlantic, but it has a 
 few features worse than it. The steamei's come 
 in vvith emigrants packed on tlieir low«'r di-ck 
 like herrings in a fish-box. The steamers are 
 chartered by the government from their sup- 
 porters, and a few of them are old, woi-n-out 
 tubs, that take two <lays to a trip that ought to 
 1)6 made inside 20 houi's. Without food or cover, 
 blistered bv the sun in the day and chilled by 
 the river breezes at night, the poor creatures are 
 landed here more dead than alive. Many who 
 went aboard feeling well, are carried off in a 
 dvin<x state. My cui'se and the curse of every 
 Irishman be on the government that allows the 
 helplessness of our countrymen to be traded upon 
 to make money for their followers. If their trans- 
 
 30 
 
 i; I 
 
 i; 
 
 .il 
 
V 
 
 Vv 
 
 4o() 
 
 GLEANEK TALES. 
 
 portation was l(^ft open to all ship-owners, the 
 emigrants would he hrought here in large and 
 spee<ly steamers, and a limit could he put to 
 the number they carry. Once landed, the emi- 
 grants are <lecently treated. I am thankful to 
 he ahle to say that. It is the city and not tlie 
 government that manages. For sick and well 
 there is plenty of wholesome food, and no lack of 
 doctors or nurses. The food, to he sure, is coarse 
 and the cooking not good, but you know the say- 
 ing, The poor (hnik wather and the rich sip tay. 
 Af terGrosse isle it is fine. What I have seen here has 
 shown me the necessity of moving the (juarantine 
 to the flats below Quebec. If the sick were 
 moved from (Jrosse isle to near the city they 
 would get all the supplies and service needed. I 
 expect to return to Quebec in a day or so, and be- 
 fore leaving here hope to get the V)ishop to wait 
 on the premier, to ask that the new fever sheds be 
 placed on the outskirts of Quebec. I hear from 
 the emigrants as they arrive of you, and as they 
 speak they bless you. I hope to see you soon. 
 
 -, Your Old Preceptor. 
 
 12. — A ship that came in from Sligo has many 
 of my old neiglibors. They say after we left, 
 the agents gave out that all who refused to emi- 
 grate would have the relief taken from them, 
 which was all they had to keep life in them 
 until next crop. The more that went, the more 
 
i 
 
 THE SUMMER OF SOUHoV,' 
 
 451 
 
 -owners, the 
 
 n large and 
 
 be put to 
 
 ed, the emi- 
 
 thankf'ul to 
 
 and not the 
 
 ck and well 
 
 nl no lack of 
 
 are, is coarse 
 
 ncnv the say- 
 
 rich sip tay. 
 
 seen here has 
 
 18 quarantine 
 
 e sick were 
 
 le city they 
 
 3e needed. I 
 
 r so, and be- 
 
 diop to wait 
 
 ver sheds be 
 
 I hear from 
 
 and as they 
 
 you soon. 
 
 iiECEinv^R. 
 
 L^o has many 
 'ter we left, 
 ised to emi- 
 from them, 
 ife in them 
 it, the more 
 
 eager were those left behind to go. At the rate 
 they are coming. Lord Palmerston will have his 
 land clear of people by Michaelmas, and be able 
 to lease it to Scotch cow-feeders. Most of the 
 emigrants come expecting free land from the 
 Canadian government and a pound a-head from 
 the agents of their landlords at Quebec. Oh, the 
 deceivers, to cheat these poor people with lies! 
 
 16. — Bridget is down with the fever, just when 
 Ellen was recovering and likely to be able soon 
 to leave with her sister for uncle's farm in Hun- 
 tingdon. It seems as if exposure, if long enough 
 continued, is sure to induce the disease. Doctor 
 Douglas says few can withstand breathing the 
 air of the sheds for a fortniofht without beinj; 
 laid down. I expect my turn will come yet. A 
 company of soldiers has arrived to act as a guard 
 over the camp of what is called the healthy emi- 
 grants to keep them from going near the fever 
 sheds. It is of a piece with everything else. The 
 fever is in the camp as well as in the sheds. Had 
 they sent a few hundred boanls from Quebec to 
 Hoor the tents, 't would have been more sensible 
 than to supply a guard. The weathei is still wet, 
 and the ground under the tents is soa'ring, yet 
 the people have nowhere else to lie. I was telling 
 the head of tlie Church of England clergymen, 
 Doctor Mountain, of what my fiiend liad said 
 about quarantine being moved near the city. He 
 agreed it ought to be done, although the people of 
 
V 
 
 \ 
 
 452 
 
 CI.EAXEU TALES. 
 
 (Quebec would resist. The cellar of the marine 
 hospital liaving become full to overtlovving with 
 emigrants, workmen came three days ago to erect 
 sheds on tlie hospital grounds. The people of Hi 
 Roclis assembled, scattered the lumV)er, and drove 
 away the workmen. Lamenting the lack of nurses, 
 he told me it was partly due to the government's 
 not ofi'erinir sufficient waaes. }*lacards on the 
 Quebec streets asking for nurses at GO cents a day 
 met with no response. Doctors were offered only 
 S'3.50 a day. A dollar a day for nurses and t?5 
 for doctors would get a supplv, i)ut the authori- 
 ties would not consent. I can believ^e anythinjx of 
 them. They will not send .is a supply of straw, 
 even, and many of the sick are lying without 
 anything below them. 
 
 18. — T was witness today of an iiicident I want 
 to preserve . .le note of. I was attending to an 
 old neighbii, 2,1 r Monaghan, who came in the ship 
 from Sligo six days ago. He is mending, though 
 still poorly. While bending over iiim, he gave a 
 start, and turning I saw they were carrying in a 
 new patient. They placed him in an adjoining bed. 
 Wasted and sallow as he was, I recognized in him 
 a man I had seen from boyhood, but had never 
 spoken to. He had a farm in our townland and 
 was a bitter Oi*an<xeman. With MonafT'han he had 
 a feud, which they tried to tight out on maiiy a 
 market day. Stanhope had led a pai'ty that l)eat 
 his oldest son and four other boys nigh to death 
 
e marine 
 inu" witli 
 o to oi'ect 
 )plc of St 
 md drove 
 of nurses, 
 ernnient's 
 s on the 
 onts a day 
 iered only 
 »s and J?.j 
 a authori- 
 ly thing of 
 of straw, 
 g without 
 
 'nt I want 
 lino- to an 
 n the ship 
 no- thouii'li 
 he jxave a 
 tying in a 
 )ininii: bed. 
 zed in Inni 
 had never 
 nland and 
 lan he had 
 m many a 
 f that l)eat 
 h to death 
 
 THE SUMMEIl OF SDRIJOW. 4.>3 
 
 one St Jolm's eve, and had heaped insult on Inni 
 aiid liis times without count. I will not say 
 Monao'han did not pay him hack. If he did not, 
 S(jmehody else did, for he had his stackyai'd twice 
 hurned and one line morning found four of his 
 cows houfdied. How w(juld these mortal enemies 
 meet now, far fi'om their native land an<l lai<l 
 side hy side in deathly sickness:' Stanhope was 
 overcome with the fatiixue of hrinu'inijf him f'om 
 the ship, and lay exhausted with his eyes shut. 
 I hel<l up his head to give him some coi'dial, an<l 
 then he sank bj'ck and fell asleep. I ke])t my 
 eye on him as I went about the shed, watching 
 his wakino'. On l)r Mountain's comino" in, I told 
 liim of the new Protestant patient and of the 
 circumstances I have here set (kv»A n. We vent 
 to where the couple lay and were looking at 
 them when Stanhope awoke. He gazo'; h< Ipless- 
 ly around until his eyes met those d Moiuighan, 
 which had been iixed on him from th<- tiuu; iie 
 came in. The glitter of le old tire spjui g op 
 in Stanliope's eyes and .> flush passed '^ver his 
 white face. Neither said a word for (juite a while. 
 During the' pause the defiant look faded from 
 Stanhope's face, and 1 could see I'ecollection of 
 old neighborhood and a sense of community of 
 suffei'ing filled his bosom. The stern, hard fea- 
 tures relaxed and a bony hand was thi'ust across. 
 
 "Is that yersilf, Mona ;han : will ye shak bans 
 wid me:^ 
 
<v 
 
 454 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 
 "(ilad an proud to do tliat same, and lot by- 
 <^ono.s 1)(3 byf^onos, Mi* Stanliope." 
 
 Tliere was a moistness in ])i- Mountain's oyes 
 as lie said, "Love is the fulfillin*.'; of the law. May 
 the (Jiood Shepherd, who has sheep in every flock, 
 l)less you both, and in His own time <Tfather you 
 into His heavenly fold." 
 
 "Amen,' I said with all my heart. "T)r Moun- 
 tain, I have leai-ned something in this island of 
 horrors — that goodness is not l)ounded by creed, 
 for I have seen you and your clergy nurse the 
 sick and feed the hungry day after day although 
 not one in a score of them are of your church. 
 The thanks that have been in my heart foi- your 
 kindness to iny countrymen I am not ashamed 
 ?u)w to speak." 
 
 He clasped my hand. "My dear Mr Keegan, 
 say not another word; when a man comes to die 
 the most painful I't'fiection he can have is, that 
 he dl«l not embrace every opportunity he had 
 duriiiij: his lifetime of doiuix oood. You and I 
 have simply done our duty, and, after all, have 
 to confess we are unpi'oti table servants of the one 
 'lod whom we worship at different altars." Hav- 
 ing said this he turned away to resume his visi- 
 tation of the sick elsewhere. 
 
 20. — The vreather has been steaming hot for a 
 week, with heavy showers, and fog at night, mak- 
 ing cur situation worse and spreading infection. 
 There is a stench ijoth in and out of doors. 
 
J 
 
 THE srMMEH oK SCHtltoW. 
 
 4.") 5 
 
 nd let by- 
 tain's eyes 
 law. May 
 very flock, 
 ^oither you 
 
 Dr MouTi- 
 
 -; island of 
 
 by cree<], 
 
 nurse the 
 v^ altliouiih 
 ur church, 
 t foi- your 
 \j ashamed 
 
 [r Keeixan, 
 lUies to die 
 ve is, that 
 y he had 
 :^ou and I 
 • all, have 
 of the one 
 rs." Hav- 
 e his visi- 
 
 ■ hot for a 
 iu^ht, mak- 
 
 ■ infection, 
 of doors. 
 
 Ships continue to come in and the number of sick 
 to sjrow; a doctor told me there ari' ov<'r 2000. 
 The nurses, both men. and women, that conie from 
 Quebec, are a bad lot. They ne(rl,.ct their duties, 
 snmnr<rIo in drink to those of the sick who can 
 pay for it, and rob the dyinir, ()n this lone 
 island, where every thiniL!; else is so scarce, whisky 
 can be got by whoever wants it. The greed of 
 gain overcomes the fear of infection, a"d it is 
 snuiggled in by small Ijoats from (.Quebec. Last 
 night there was an upi'oar in the camp of the 
 liealthy, caused by druid<enness. The military 
 • •uard is a hui't to the emiiirants. Like soMiers 
 everywhere, they have neitlun- moi-als nor decency. 
 Bridget grows woi'se and pooi* Ellen is making a 
 bad recovery, for she e.xhausts her strength by 
 trying to nurse her sister. Nb)naghan and Stan- 
 liope talk by the hour, and their converse has put 
 new heart in them. Hope is better than medicine. 
 Indee<l, I have seen scores die fi'(^m despondency 
 or in<litierence to life, who, to all appearance, (»ught 
 to have recovered. The two old enemies are tiie 
 most coi'dial of friends and will soon be able to 
 leave. Thev have ajxreed to •lo with the sui*- 
 \ivors of their families to the London district 
 and take up land together. Both are industrious 
 and steady and having buried their senseless 
 hatred will be of nnitual help to oiie another. 
 Both have money enough to start them. 
 
 24. — Father Movlan has iiot back for a few 
 
4:)G 
 
 gm:axeii tales. 
 
 ilfiys. There is need for nioro likc^ liim, Imt Ti-Isli 
 ])ri(.'sts are few in this part of (^ana<hi, and our 
 p(.'oj)lc want tlu.'ni alone. T\w ships now arriving 
 icport lai-gcr mortality than those that came in 
 May. This is due to the lieat. The condition of 
 the holds of the ships that ct)nie in is unspeak- 
 ably revoltin<j^. Several hui'icd ov(>r a hmidred 
 in the ocean, e(|ual to a tiftli of the number of 
 their passen«j^ers. 
 
 duly 2.— Father Moylan wanted me to go to 
 Montreal as a witr\ess before a counnittee of en- 
 (juiry ap[)()inted by the let^islature. I have no 
 heart to leave here, and I told him if they would 
 not believe him they would not l)elieve me. There 
 is no improvement in carinjjf for the sick: the cal- 
 lousness of the Canadian i.^overnment to the sufi'er- 
 ini^s of (fod's poor on this island I cannot under- 
 stand. The weather is now settled, and beyond 
 the sun bein^ seoi'chingly hot at nndday is as fine 
 as could be wished. 
 
 nth. — This evening I took a walk to the far 
 side of tin; island and enioved the solitude and 
 the peace of nature. Sitting on the beach, I 
 watched the sun sink beldnd the hills. I have 
 a feeling that my own sun will soon disappear, 
 for I am sad and disheartened beyond all my 
 expei'ience. l)r Fenwick told me the other day 
 I should leave: that I needed a change. I cannot, 
 indeed I will not, for I cherish the secret wish 
 to die where my Aileen left me. A ship has 
 
THK SUMMKK OK SOIJIJOW, 
 
 457 
 
 arrived with lil dcjul on Itojinl: slu' lost over n 
 t'ourtli of tliose wlio rinbarked on lier at Li\(*r- 
 pool. Another out of 470 emigrants, (h-opped 
 150 into the Athmtie. Sure, tragedies like thest? 
 ouii'lit to direct the eyes of the eivilizfd world to 
 what is liappenin<^^ My heai't is l»i-oken at the 
 sioht of thousands of niy own dear ])eo))le, men, 
 women, and littU' chiklren, dyinj^;' for lack of a 
 crust on Canada's shore. 
 
 14. — I thiidv the en<l has come. 'J'oni<.;'ht my 
 liead throbs and my bones aiv sore. Iii-id^et, after 
 loUL'" while between life and death, 
 
 )verHiLr a 
 
 h( 
 
 sank to rest this mornini;-, and is buried. Kllen 
 leaves by tomorrow's steamer, and will be in 
 Huntingdon in a few days. I gave her a mes- 
 sage to uncle. My life lias been a failure. May 
 (jiod. liave pity on me and on my poor j)eople. 
 Oh, that Aileen were here: that I felt lier hand 
 on my racked forehead. 
 
 THE EM). 
 
I 
 
 <v 
 
 'v 
 
 k 
 
 I! 
 
XoTK TO Tin: Sr.M.MKIt ol' SoKltnW, 
 
 '^riic iinmiixration to Canada in IN47 was tlni 
 largest on ivconl. ])nrin<x tlio season of navimi- 
 tion vessels hearin^^ n(),()()() an-ivcd in tlie St 
 Lawrence. Of tliese 20,01)0 wei'e Kn^lisli, Scotch, 
 and (jrernians, an<l on tlie vessels tliat carried them 
 there was no unusual sickness, so that, in consider- 
 injj;- the calamity (jf 1(S47, they ai*e to he set aside, 
 and the remaining;- seventy thousand alone to he 
 tlealt with. They were mainly Irish Roman Cath- 
 olics, and it was amon^ them that disease an«l 
 death reigned. I'ifty thousand of them sailed 
 from })()rts in Ireland; twenty thousand caui(! hy 
 way of Liverpool. 120 ships were reipiired to 
 carry them. On every vessel fever and dysentery 
 broke out; the emijj^rants who saihid from Liver- 
 pool farinj^ worst. In crossing- the Atlantic these 
 129 vessels dropped 4002 of tlieir passengers into 
 the deep; while anchored off (Jrosse isle 1I!)0 died 
 on board: out of those they sent ashore upon the 
 island .'i.'JMO perished. A monument in its ceme- 
 tery records that there was buried, in less than 
 six months, 5424 persons "who, Hying from pesti- 
 lence and famine in Ireland, found in America ))ut 
 a grave." That, however, is only a portion of the 
 mortality. Streaming past (nnjsse isle, after a de- 
 tention that was harmful to them and of no benefit 
 in protecting the Canadian community against dis- 
 ease, the advancing army of immigrants swept 
 westward, and wherever it bivouaced, left a cluster 
 
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 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 
 4^^:^'^ 
 
400 
 
 i 
 
 •ti 
 
 i 
 
 t 
 
 (iLKAXEU TALKS. 
 
 of iTfi-avcs. At Quclx'c city 712 ilied, at Moiitiiul 
 (J*^'i(), at ]-<acluiu* l.*^0, at Cornwall 02, at Kininstt.ii 
 11)00, at Toronto .SO'J. Only wlicro the authorities 
 ])i('I)ai'f.Ml places of shelter, was any recor*! kept 
 of the <leaths. an«l these ])laces closecl in Octol.er. 
 Of the in(»itality dniin^' the winter no count was 
 
 es 
 
 kept noi'of the hun<li"«'(ls who died by twos or thiT 
 alonjn' the routes of travel or in i-emote country 
 disti'icts, to which the soivly snutten ])eo])le pe'Ue- 
 tiated in the hopi' of relief. The otiicial record 
 (rives the total at 17,000: actually, ahout 20,000 
 died. Addin<^ those wIhj died on shiphoard, the 
 nundjei* I'ises to 24,000. That is, out of every 
 fourteen who left Ireland, five died — a rate of 
 mortality without parallel in modern tinges. For 
 this appalli!i;Lr destruction of human life, the Irish 
 landlonls wei'e primarily i-esponsihie in compellinii' 
 or inducinjj^ their tenants to leave Ireland without 
 makin<2;' ade<(Uate ])rovision for their sustenance. 
 
 th 
 
 il, th 
 
 or tneir tivatment on sln])l)oar(i, tne owners, o 
 charterers of the vessels, and the officers in com- 
 man<i are accountable. It is humiliatinu' to state 
 that no effort was made by the officials at Quebec 
 to punish the captains and mates of vessels who 
 had maltreated passengers. It was notorious that 
 the poor emigrant had been robbed in measuring 
 out his scanty allowance of biscuit, meal, and 
 water, and that the <|uality was detestable, yet 
 theie is only one case on record of a captain being 
 brought to account. The master of tin? Birnam 
 was charged with cheatinjx in the allowance of 
 water. By confessing judgment and paying a 
 paltry fine, he avoide<l trial and went free! Xo 
 class of men more abuse the power their position 
 gives them than the officers of ships. The emi- 
 
> 
 
 XOTK. 
 
 401 
 
 Ljrant lias always been Itadly trcatc*!: is to this 
 (lay sliauH't'ully used. St<'ani has shortciUMl th»j 
 V()ya<r(' ami made it inoiv hcajaltlo. while ;;(>v('rii- 
 inent re(|uirciiH'nts as to space and aceoiiiiuodatiori 
 are more liheral, hut there ai"e steamships which 
 come to Qiiehec whose passenj^^Ts tell of their 
 voyaf^e l)eini»; an onhvil of staivation and neglect 
 — of petty tyranny on the pai't of hectorin*; ship- 
 otticers, of food hein<r thrown hefore them of such 
 execrahle (lualitv and so hadiv cooked as to tuin 
 the stoutest st(>mach. Desirous of hurrvinj"' to 
 their destination and knowin«;" their inahility to 
 contend with powerful companies, the j^rievances 
 of the poverty-stricken and friendless immigrant 
 are unrecorded in our courts. 
 
 For the tragedy enacted at (irosse i'le in 1(S47, 
 and its sad scenes i-e-enacted in every town and 
 city west of it, from Quehec to Sandwich, the Can- 
 adian government is accountahle, and the responsi- 
 hility for the death of the twenty thousand laid 
 in premature graves lies at the door of Sherwood 
 and his ministers. The letters and n'ports of 
 ])r Douglas show they were fully acipiainted with 
 the awful state of attairs at (ii'osse isle from the 
 landing of the first sick emigrants, yet took no a<le- 
 (piate steps in response. There never was a calamity 
 that could have been more easily averted; thei'e 
 never was waste of life that could have been more 
 easily prevented. The British govern n»ent did its 
 part. Communication was slow then, and it was 
 past the n)iddle of June befoi'e accounts of the 
 dreadful state of matters at Grosse isle reached 
 Britain. On the ]8th, the Im})erial government 
 sent a despatch asking the Canadian authorities 
 to take viijforous action to relieve it and promising 
 
 rf?l 
 
i 
 
 402 
 
 (; LEA NEK TALES. 
 
 to pay the cost On receipt of this despatch, the 
 Canadian gfoverninent became lavish enough, and 
 the followincf year presented a bill for some 
 $700,000, which the Imperial authorities paid 
 without en(juiry. Where that money went, it is 
 useless now to encjuire; assuredly little of it went 
 to feed the famishing immigrant. The efficiency of 
 the action of the government can be judged by one 
 fact — it was not until the end of August it had pro- 
 vided sufficient sheds for the sick at Grosse isle to 
 permit of the sexes being separated. While no Cana- 
 dian can look back upon 1847 without a feeling of 
 shame for the conduct of our public men, they en- 
 tertain an honest pride in the devotion of the 
 clergy and physicians. Thus, out of 42 Roman 
 Catholic priests who volunteered to visit Grosse 
 isle 19 caught the fever, and 4 died. Out of the 
 li) Episcopal clergymen who responded to the 
 call of Bishop Mountain, 7 took ill and 2 died. Of 
 the 26 doctors, 22 fell ill and 4 died. The same 
 devotion was shown elsewhere, doctors, nurses, 
 and ministers, in the hope of doing good to the 
 sick and dying, walking into danger. One clergy- 
 man associated with this district, Rev Wm. Dawes, 
 died from the fever at St Johns. The mayor of 
 Montreal, J. T. Mills, after doing invaluable work 
 in providing for the sick, caught the contagion 
 and died. 
 
cspatch, the 
 unough, and 
 
 1 for soMU' 
 )rities pai<l 
 
 went, it is 
 e of it went 
 efficiency of 
 ilged by one 
 b it had pro- 
 rosse isle to 
 ile no Cana- 
 a feeling of 
 en, they en- 
 tion of the 
 
 42 Roman 
 visit Grosse 
 
 Out of the 
 led to the 
 
 2 died. Of 
 The same 
 
 ors, nurses, 
 good to the 
 One clergy- 
 Vm. Dawes, 
 e mayor of 
 uable work 
 ! contagion 
 
 ^^ 
 
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 /, 
 
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 y 
 
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 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 l;im |2.5 
 H: ii£ 112.0 
 
 11.25 i 1.4 
 
 j.6 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTE!!, NY. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 ^<^ 
 
 

 :\ 
 
272 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 suiiniu'i". the liaiiks of tin; civ(.'k wltc soft, so om- 
 loot wvm WL't all the time and we had to raisij 
 the heaps on beds of logs to "^et them to huiii. 
 Our tii'st lot of ashes we lost. J^efore they e()ul(l 
 be lifte<l into the leaches, a thunderstorm came on 
 and in a ft;w minutes the lal)or of a fortnight wns 
 spoiled. After that, we kept them coveivd with 
 strips of bai'k. 
 
 The ni.'io'hbors w<'re very kind. They had littl'' 
 and had not an hour to spare, but they iirvrr 
 o-rudoed lend in <x ns a hand or sharin<'- with us 
 anything" we could not do without. Thei'i* w;is 
 no pride or ceremony then, and neijj^ldxjrs livrd 
 as if they were one family. (Jne t)f them who 
 had a pota.sh kettle lent it to us, and it was 
 fetched on a float or sort of raft, which \\a> 
 pushed up the creek as far as it would j^o. Then 
 the kettle was lifted out and carried Ijy main 
 strength, suspended on a pole. We had tlnaight 
 the chopping, the logging, and the burning had 
 enough, (the carrying of water to the leaches and 
 the lioiling of the lye was child's play) but the 
 meltinc: of the salts was awful. Between the ex- 
 ertion in stirring, the heat of the .sun and of the 
 tire, flesh and blood could hardly bear up. How 
 we ever manao-ed I do not know, unless it was 
 by keeping at it and aye at it, but on the tii>t 
 week of October we had tilled a )»ari*el with pot- 
 ash, and Reeves took it away in one of his canoes 
 and sold it in town for us, on the understandini: 
 
A SKTTLKIl'S STUKV. 
 
 l^T:^ 
 
 that \VL' WLTc to tak<' the ])ay out <>t* his st<>rt.'. 
 Hi' niadc thus hoih ways, and cvcrythiiin" !»•' k<'pt 
 was very dear. I liavc paid him 25 cents a yard 
 fnr common calico and a <lolhir a |)ound t'or tea. 
 We could not hclji oni'sclvcs just then. 
 
 I should have told you our potatoes i^rew won- 
 ilci'fiilly. There is a warmth in newly-burned, 
 land or a nourishment in ashes, I «lon't know 
 which, that makes everythir.i;' i^row on new land 
 far heyond what they do elsewhere. The frost 
 held off* well that fall, ami we lift(Ml oui* crop in 
 
 "■i)( )( 
 
 I ord 
 
 er 
 
 'xcept 
 
 f 
 
 ew 
 
 that 
 
 wei'e verv 
 
 late 
 
 jihuited, which did not ripen properly. When wo 
 landed on oui" lot, Braxton used liis last dollar to 
 pay the can(jemcn, and I had just 15 shillini;s loft 
 after paying the hoards we got at Todd's mill, so 
 all we had to put us over until another croj) would 
 hi' rais(Ml, was the potatoes and what we could 
 make out of potash We were i 
 
 n no wav' ois 
 
 y 
 
 cuui'rtged. The woi'k was slavish, hut we were 
 workiui^ for ourselv«.'s in niakine- a home; the land 
 was our own, and every <iay it was improving. 
 The children tocdv to the country and its ways 
 at once and wei-e (piite contented. We were 
 C'lu'orful and hopeful, feeling we ha<l something 
 tit work for and it was worth our while to ])ut up 
 with pi'csent liardship. I rememher a n<'ighhor's 
 wife, who was always miscalling Canada and re- 
 LTctting she had come to it, heing satisfied \n ith 
 nothing here. She said to her hushand one <lay, 
 
 10 
 
274 
 
 (iLEAXER TALES. 
 
 in my licurin*;', "In Scotland you litid your t\V(. 
 cows' oijiss and besides your wage sue niuckir 
 uieal and potatoes, and we were bien ami cum- 
 fortablc; l>ut you wad leave, and dae bett»'r, and 
 tins is your Canada for you!" "Can you no IkukI 
 your tongue, woman," lie replie<l, "we liae </ pios. 
 2)f'('t here, and tbat is what we hadna in Scotland" 
 That was just it, we had a prospect before us tlmt 
 cheered us on to thole our hardships. 
 
 I counted not the least of the drawbacks of tin- 
 bush, the lack of public ordinances. Ther(r wjis 
 no church to go to on Sabbath, and the day was 
 spent in idleness, mostly in visiting. Sometimes 
 the young men went fishing or hunting, but tluit 
 was not connuon in our neighborhood, where the 
 settlers respected it as a day of rest, though with- 
 out religious observance of any kind. Accustonicil 
 from a child to go to kirk regularly in Scothuid. 
 I felt out of my ordinary as each Sabbath cuinc 
 round. To be sure, I taught the children tlii'ir 
 catechism and we read the story of Joseph and 
 the two books of Kings before the winter set in, 
 but that did not satisfy me. The nearest preach- 
 ing was at South Georgetown, and tho' 1 heard nu 
 iiood of the minister I wanted to jjo. Somehow. 
 something aye came in the way every Sabbath 
 morning I set. At last, it was after the potatots 
 had been lifted and the outdoor work about over 
 one Sabbath morning in October, a canoe, on its 
 way down, stopped to leave a message for us 
 
A SETTLERS STORY. 
 
 275 
 
 Tills was my cliance, and getting ready I and my 
 two oldest children went, leaving the othei's in 
 charge of Braxton, and, for a (juiet man, he got 
 on well with children, for he was fon<l of them. 
 I n'lnember that sail as if it were yesterday — the 
 ^'low of the liazy sunlight, the river smooth as a 
 l(>oking-glass, in which the trees, new clad in red 
 and yellow claes, keeked at themselves, and the 
 very spirit of peace seemed to hover in the air. 
 Oh it was soothing, and I thought over all I 
 had come through since I left Scotland. Tho' I 
 could not help thinking how different it had been 
 with me six months before, yet my heart welled 
 up as I thought of all the blessings showered on 
 liie and mine and thanked God for his goodness 
 It was late when we came in sight of the church, 
 for the sound of singing told us worship had 
 begun. Dundee was the tune, and as tlie voices 
 came softly over the water my heart so melte<l 
 within me to hear once again and in a strange 
 land the psalmody of Scotland that I had to turn 
 away my head to greet. Stepping ashore where 
 the church stood on the river bank, we went 
 quietly in. It was a bare shed of a place, with 
 planks set up for seats, and there were not over 
 thirty present. The minister was a fresh -colored, 
 presentable enough man, and gave a very good ser- 
 mon, from the 11th chapter of Second Corinthians. 
 While he was expatiating on what the apostle 
 had suffered, something seemed to strike him, and 
 
27G 
 
 (iLEAXKH TALES. 
 
 # 
 
 lie said, "Aye, aye, Vnxil, ye went tliroui^h much 
 but yon never cut down trees in Canada." Il*; 
 spoke feelinj^ly, for he had to work like the it ^t 
 of his nei^ld)ors to earn liis bread. One end of 
 the churcli was boanled off, and in it lie and lii.s 
 wife lived. I will say no more about Mr Mc- 
 Wattie, for his failing" was notorious. When W(»i- 
 shij) was over, it was a great treat to mix witli 
 the folk. That I did not know a soul pit'stiit 
 made no difference, for all were free then and 1 
 made friendships that day that liavt; lasted to 
 this. When he heard that I was from the south 
 of Scotland, I\Ir Brodie would take no refusal airl 
 I had to iro with him across the river to liis liouso 
 where we had dinner, and soon after set (JUt tu 
 walk home. People now-a-days think it a luii<l- 
 ship to walk a mile to church, but I knew many 
 then who went four or five, let the weather Ini 
 what it mitrht. It was dark before we f^ot homo, 
 and that night there was a frost that killed every- 
 thing. The weather kept tine, however, until De- 
 cember, and we had no severe cold until the wit'k 
 before New Year. 
 
 I cannot think of anvthino^ out of the common 
 that first winter. Our neighbors wrought at chop- 
 ping cordwood to raft to Montreal in the sj)ring, 
 but Braxton could not, for he had no oxen to 
 draw the wood to the river- bank, so we went on 
 enlarging our clearance. I forgot to say, that one 
 of our North Georgeto>vn acquaintances gave my 
 
A si:ttjj:iis stoiiv 
 
 277 
 
 (ildcst Itoy a pi^'' in a prcsriit, anil we luana^c"! t<> 
 k»<'|) tln' littl(.' ciN'aturc alive with the liousc-sloi) 
 iiiitl Iwtilini;' the potatoes that lia^l not riprnnl well. 
 We all sutfercMl I'roni the cold, which was jiast 
 anvthint'' we ha<l anv conce|)tion of hei'ore coiiiintr 
 to Canada. Our shanty was so open that it did 
 little more than ])reak th(^ wind, an<l water spilled 
 en the Hoor at once fVoze. We had ph'iity oi 
 wood, hut it was irreen, and tlie lo<rs were H/./in<r 
 .iml hoiline- out the sap the day Ion J^^ and it took 
 i')raxton (piite a while to learn that some kinds 
 
 At first he was 
 
 (.f wood hurn hettei' than others. 
 
 just as likely to hrini;" in a hasswood or elm Iol;* 
 
 as one of maple or hemlock. Most of the heat 
 
 Wt 
 
 nt up 
 
 the li 
 
 im" chinnie\', so 
 
 that while our fare 
 
 ;s gave my 
 
 would be burning-, our hacks were cold. It was 
 woi-st in the mornings, for I wouM rise to find 
 cvcrvthinir solid, even tlu' hi-ead hasinL!* to he 
 
 I/O O 
 
 tliMWed, and the blankets .so stiff from our breaths 
 and the .snow that had sifted in that I had to hantr 
 them near the tire to dry. We kept our health, 
 lunvever, and after the middle of Februarv the 
 weather moderated. In March a deer, while ci'oss- 
 iiiH" our clearance, broke throui^h the ci'ust, and 
 while floundering in the snow w^as killed by two 
 (if my boys. After that they were on the watch, 
 anil ran down and killed two more with their 
 axes. I salted and dried the hams, and Imt for 
 them we would have fared poorly. Having no 
 kittle, we made only a little maple sugar that 
 
 m 
 
27S 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 •ft'5^ 
 
 4''' 
 
 spririj^ by Ijoiliii*^ tlu3 sap in the kailpot. 'I'licni 
 was no su<(nr then like wliat is made now, it was 
 black and had a smoky flavor. 
 
 The sprint^ was late and wet, which was a <^vv>\i 
 <lisapp()intmcnt, for Braxton could not burn tlit; 
 loo-heaps he liad .ready and make potash, on tli«; 
 money for which he counted to buy provisions to 
 put us over until harvest. To make matters worse, 
 provisions got to be very scarce and dear, so that 
 flour and oatmeal sold at J?5 the quintal, and soiiu'- 
 times was not to be had. One day, wlien (juit«; 
 out, I went down to Rutherford's, who kept a hit 
 of a store, and he liad neither meal nor flour, l»ut 
 went into the kitchen and brou<^ht out a bowlful 
 of the meal they had for themselves. I went over 
 the potatoes we had cut for seed, and slicid uff 
 enough around the eyes to make a dinner for us. 
 In June, provisions became more plentiful, for tlio 
 boats had begun to bring supplies from Upper 
 Canada to Montreal. It was the middle of that 
 month before Braxton had a barrel of potash 
 ready, and the money it brought did not pay 
 what we were due the storekeepers. We wero 
 kept very bare that summer, but had a prospt'ct 
 before us in the three acres of crops which wc 
 had got in and which were doing finely. 
 
 I can never forget that summer from the fri<,^ht 
 I had about Ailie. She was as sweet a wee dot 
 as there was in the world, so loving and confiding 
 that she made friends with everybody at sight 
 
A SKTTLKKS SToKY. 
 
 '27'.) 
 
 I wjis never tire<l of watchinir l»<'r nn-ttv wavs 
 iukI listoiiiii*^ to her merry prattle. Wr were husy 
 uMc afternoon leaclnn*^ ashes, when suddt'nly my 
 oMrst hoy aske(l, "Wljere's Ailie:'" I startc*!. an<l 
 iviiH'mhei'ecl that it was over a!i honr since I ha<l 
 M't'ii lirr. "She'll hav<' <fon(» hack to tlw house 
 to take a sleep," I said, and I told one of Imt 
 sistei's to ;^o and see. We w<'nt on atrain, carrvin<r 
 watei*. wlien, after a while, the lassie came hack 
 with the word that she could find Ailie novrhcre. 
 We threw down our tuhs and dishes, and I shout- 
 t'(l lier name as loud as I could, tlnnkin<^^ sh»' was 
 iicai'hv in the wootls. No answer came. "She'll 
 have fallen asleep under some hush, and <1'' '<Ma 
 litar us," I said, and, with my children, we wmt 
 Irtc and there searchinii" for her, callinix her name, 
 juid all without HndinLC Ailie. Braxton was an 
 iimnovable man, who seldom spf)ke oi- t^ave sii^m 
 of what he was thinkino" about, hut when we were 
 to^rether a^ain and all had the sam-.' report, lii.s 
 iiKinth (piivered. Turnin*,^ down the wooden scoop 
 with which he had been shovellini^ ashes, he said, 
 "We'll dae nae mae wark till wv. fitid the l)airn." 
 Tliis tiniii we went more systematically about our 
 search, but airain it was without avail. It was a 
 hot afternoon, and the sunshine was so brii^ht it 
 lii^^lited up the darkest nooks of tlie forest, l»ut in 
 none we explored was Ailie. When we met one 
 iiiKitlu'r in our search and learned nut a trace liad 
 heen found, a pang of aij^ony went through our 
 
 4 
 
2S() 
 
 (;i-K.\\KI{ TALKS. 
 
 <i 
 
 Ju-art^. l)raxt(»ii rullowrtl tlic ci'rck ami lonki.l 
 WrII uloiiM' the l»aiik <»r tlir ( 'hjitriHiL;ay. It was 
 not until it lia<l liccdinc too dai'k to sec that (air 
 sliniits and cries of "Ailic" d'asivj to sound tlir<ai'j,li 
 the laisli. W'licn we had rt'tinurd to the holier, I 
 
 stiijcd ii|» 
 
 the ti 
 
 HT ami niaMc suj)|)(.'i 
 
 W) 
 
 H'll We 
 
 sat •li)\vn. not one of us could cat. li'-axton Mt a 
 piece (»f hread, hut could not swallow it, and with 
 a i^noan he left the tahle. \Vc talked ovrr w liat 
 should 111' doiif n( xt, and an'i'erd to warn mir 
 neii^iiltvU's to come and help at daylight, which 
 Braxton and tlie hovs went to do, Xone of u- 
 liked to s])eak of what may liaxc hefallen tli'' 
 child, though We all had our fears, that she luni 
 straye<l down to the C'liateauL^ay ami been drown- 
 ed or iL;()ne into the woods ajid a wild heast had 
 dcNonred hei*. AlthoULih tiiev had not trouhltd 
 
 us, we 
 
 k 
 
 new 
 
 tl 
 
 lei'e were hears am 
 
 il wol 
 
 ves ni 
 
 th 
 
 swamps to the north of us and tliere had heiii 
 even talk of a catamount having' heen seen. Wliih' 
 tljere was ]»oi)e I was not i-oinix to lose lieart, ami 
 wlien 1 besought the Lord to restore my last hoiii 
 to my arms 1 tlianked Him that the niij;lit was so 
 dry and warm that slie could come hy no ill from 
 the weather. I did not sleep a wiidv that niiiht. 
 sittiujj at the door and strainini'" mv hearini;' in 
 tlie liope that I nnght catch the ciy of my Ailif. 
 Beside the croakino" of the froos and the hit 
 chirrui) of some mother-bird that wakened in it> 
 nest and t;ucked her young closer under her wings^ 
 
2S() 
 
 (JLKANKH TALKS. 
 
 lirMi't"*. I^i'axton i'ollowctl tin* creek Jiinl luoki'l 
 
 Well uloli'' the li;inU (tf tile ( Mliite.iUlJ'aV. It \\;i> 
 
 not until it luid liecoine ton <|jii-k to s»'e that <»iir 
 shouts and cries of "Ailie" ceased to somul tln-oiijli 
 the hush. When \v«' had leturneil to the hou>t I 
 stirred up the fin- and nwide supper. When wr 
 sat down, not one of us could eat. r>'"axton l"it i 
 piece of hread, hut could not swallow it, and with 
 a i^roan he left the tahle. We talked ()\'er wli.it 
 shouM Ite done next, and aLii-eed to warn <h;i' 
 lU'Ii']il»«>J's to come and help at daylie-ht, wliidi 
 Braxton and the l)ovs went to do. Xt)ne of u^ 
 lik«'d to speak of what may Inwe l)efa]len tln' 
 child, thouL;h wc; all hail our ft'ars, that she Ii.kI 
 strayed down to the (.'hateauLj^ay and heen <lrown- 
 ed or i^one into the woods iiw\ a wild heast liml 
 ilexoured la'r. Altliouijli thev liad not trouhl«<l 
 us, we knew thei-e were heai's and wolves in tin- 
 swamps to the north of us an<l there had Imm n 
 even talk of a catauKnnit ha\ in^" l)een seen. Wliil' 
 tliere was liope I was not lU'oin^ to lose lieart. uikI 
 when 1 Lesoueht the Lord to restore my last h<»ni 
 to my arms 1 tlianked Him that the niglit was s(» 
 dry and warm that she could come h}' no ill from 
 the weather. I did not sleep a wink that niiilit, 
 sittinj^ at the door and strainini;" my hearinu' in 
 the liope that I might catch the cry of my Ailie. 
 Beside the croakino- of the frous and tlie hit 
 chirruj) of some mother-bird that wakened in it> 
 nest and tucked lier young closer under her winL;s^ 
 
A sriTMIUS STOUV 
 
 2sl 
 
 I litjufl iiotliinir. WIm'U tlir stars wm' iM-MinirmLT 
 to t'lulr I si't alxmt Lirttiiin' '•rcakrast rradx' ninl 
 \vmI<*-ii('(I tlic cliiMlTii. I lijiil 11(1 need to call 
 Itiaxton. r<t(»r man, tliou^h 1h' said nnt a wnrd, 
 I knew ln' had not clos<'d an ryv. I insisted on 
 tlitii- ninUinL"' a IwartN' ln'cakfast so as tt» I'c stroni; 
 t'lM' tin' work lict'orc tlicni, and in tlic jxx'krts of 
 (iicli J i)Ut a slice of lircad and a Lit of niaj»lc 
 siiuar for Ailic. slionld tlicv find lici", foi* I knew 
 A\r would l.c |,;Tishin;^ fj-oni liunj^rr. Soon aftci* 
 >nnrisc tlic nci^diltors Itcnan to droj) in until tlicn* 
 was a l)ai"ty ( *' oNcr twenty. All liad their doj^s 
 and some of them had liroui»ht a>«*'S and nuns. It 
 was arrange*! we should stai't out in everv direc- 
 tioii, yet keeping,' so near as to he always within 
 iiiariniL''. J>y spi'eadini;' out this way in a circle 
 We would he sure to exannne every pai't of the 
 t'Usli. while two men were to searcli the I'iver 
 I'fink in a canoe. We stalled, some callin;^- aloud, 
 • •tilers l)lowin<j liorns or rinixin*; ox-hidls until the 
 Woods echoed aiiain, and all without avail, for no 
 Ailie was to he found. What could have hecome 
 I'l' the hairn:' It was as if the earth had opened 
 •uid swall()We<l her U]). After beatini;- the hush 
 lor miles ai'ound we liathered toi^ether at noon, as 
 I'lil heen ari'anjj'ed. Not a trace had heen found. 
 \\f talked it over ami over and were at our wits' 
 '■H(l. One lad, new cctme out and with his head 
 inll ahout Lulians, sULiLiested that one of them 
 "light have stolen her, and, indeed, it looked feas- 
 
2.S2 
 
 (JLKANKH TALKS. 
 
 1 1 
 
 '':f 
 
 ,1 
 
 •■'-•! 
 
 t 
 
 \\i\v, (lid \v«' n(»t know tluit tlir fow Iinliaii^ Wf 
 Imd wen* civil and Imiinlrss. Had a wild inast 
 takru hrr, wj* wuuld have found sonic tra;;Mii?its 
 of her hit dn*ss. T was dumh with dis:ipj)niiit- 
 JMcnt and sorrow, and had hc^^un to think 1 wouM 
 ncvci* sec her alive. It wa> a;^rccd ainon;^' tit** 
 men it would he useless to spread out farther, that 
 wc were now deeper in the woods than it Nvas 
 j)ossihle for her to have wandcrcil, and that Wf 
 should use tlu; afternoon in j^oinj.^ hack (»ver tlif 
 <(round W(3 had passed, makine; a hetter examina- 
 tion of it. Wc went hack slowly, stoppiii}^^ to 
 look at everv l»)ir and troiuir throuirh cverv 1m>1- 
 low, and, though there was once a shout that 
 her trail had heen struck, it j)rove<l a mistake, 
 and our second scourinir of the; woods was as 
 fruitless as the first. The sini was fast westering,' 
 when we drew ni<rh our shanty. Ahout four .icns 
 back of it there was a waterhole, a low wet spot 
 which all of us Iwnl <^one round, nohody deeiniiii,' 
 it possible for the child to have put foot upon it. 
 As I looked at the hlack oozy muck, half iioatini; 
 in water, the thought struck me, the toddler coiiM 
 w^alk where a ij^rown up person would sink, an«l 
 without savin*; a won I to the lad who was with 
 me, I drew ott' my shoes and stockings, and, kilt- 
 ing my ])etticoat, stepped in. How I wresth'<l 
 through I do not know, hut once in I liad to 
 scramble as I best could until I reached a dry 
 spot in the centre that was like an island, and oii 
 
A skttlek's snmv. 2h:\ 
 
 uliich tljero was a tliickft of Imslu's. DauluMl with 
 muck and wrin;^in^ w«*t. I paiiscil wlim I <^i>t 
 my t'(K)tin<;. I heard a rusth . I was pantiii;^ 
 tor hn-ath, so exhausted that I was aimut to sit 
 down for a little, lait that sonml revivi'd hopr in 
 me. I peered throu^di tht; hushes and saw a (h-er 
 ifiiziij',^ at nie. The creature stared, without niov- 
 in^^ which was strani^e for so timid an animal. 1 
 >lipj)ed throu;^h an openin;^ in the huslies and 
 tln'ie, on a <;rassy plot, lay my Ailie asleep, erustt'd 
 with muck, and with her arms claspc^l round the 
 m'ck of a baby deer; her wee bit face black with 
 •lilt and streaked where th(^ tears had been run- 
 niii;,' down. I snatched hei* to my bosonj and 
 >iiikin<,'' down I liujjjg-ed and ci*ie(l over her like 
 one demented. Oh, lunl you heard her joyful cry 
 of "Mannnie, numnnie!" and seen her lift her bit 
 pinched niou to mine, you would have (!ried with 
 us. The deer did not iHir but stood lookin;:* on, 
 startled and wondering, while the fawn lay C|uietly 
 lieside nie. This was a mystery, which I soon 
 solved, for I found the fawn could not move from 
 having; a broken lei^, and the faithful mother deer 
 would not leave her young one. The shout that 
 Ailie had been found soon brought })lenty of help, 
 and the first man that came made to kill the deer, 
 but 1 prevented him and could not, ever after, bi-ar 
 liini near me. There are savaws anion jjf us who 
 cannot see any of God's creatures, however harm- 
 less, in a .state of nature, without trying to take 
 
 
 
2S4 
 
 fJLEAXER TALES. 
 
 their lives. Sportsmen, indeed ! Useless louts. 
 who would do the country a service we/e tlxy 
 to use, their powder and shot in killing one uii- 
 othcr. The fallen tree, Ijy wliich the dwr ^ot 
 acn^fSS.the swale to its well-hidden nest, was t'ouinl, 
 and .\ returned by it, carrying Ailio, while Hnix- 
 ton took the fawn iii his arms, the deer following. 
 There was much reioicinir at our hund)le sha-itv 
 before our neighbors left, and many atteinDts tn 
 account for Ailie's wandering to where she (liii. 
 'She was weak from want of food and I fcnivij 
 she might be the worse of her exposure, but ii xt 
 day, be^'ond that she was pale, she was well as 
 ever. From what we could orather from hei\ we 
 made out tolerably plain how her disappeai-uiicc 
 had come about. While playing near the house, 
 she saw the deer come out of the woods, jump the 
 fence of our clearance, and ])egin to browse on the 
 oats. Ailie seeing the\fawn ran to catch the 
 bonnie creature, when the mother took the alarm. 
 and bounded back into the woods. In attempt- 
 ing to follow, x]\(i fawn struck one of its hind fei't 
 against £he top rail of the fence, and broke the 
 bone. Ailie caught tlie wee beastie, and held it 
 in hei- arms, when the doe returned, bunted her 
 away, and managed to induce its young one to 
 hirple after it on three legs to its lair in the wee 
 swamp. Ailie, wanting to get the fawn, followed. 
 which she could do, for they must have goii'- 
 slowdy. When tired of fondling the creature, she 
 
A SETTLERS STOUV. 
 
 285 
 
 would have returned home, but could not tin<l the 
 way out, and cried and sli^pt, and slept and cried, 
 doodling down beside the wouufled fawn as it 
 iR'stled under its mother, which, from its concern. 
 for its injured offspring, never tried to drive Ailie 
 away. Well, Braxton set the broken bone and 
 the leg got strong again, but before it did the 
 fawn had become so attached to Ailie that it 
 would not leave her, and the mother, which had 
 watched over her offspring in the most touching 
 wav, had become so accustomed to us and so tajue 
 that it did not offer to leave, running in the wocxls 
 where it had a mind, and makinn" its home in a 
 shed my boys put up for her. She was torn to 
 leath, two years after, by a hound that a Yaidvce 
 neer-do-weel brought in, but the fawn lived with 
 us until she died of a natural death. 
 
 We had a fair harvest that fall, and, when it 
 was m)t in, we had the satisfaction of knowinir 
 that we would have enough to eat until another 
 was readv. There being no oatmeal-mill then in 
 the country, Braxton traded half of the oats for 
 wheat with a neighbor who wanted them for a 
 lumber-camp. There was a grist mill convenient 
 at the Portage, wdiich was burned the following 
 summer, after which we had to send all the way 
 to Huntingdon, where there was a poor sort of a 
 mill. Having no horse, the bag was carried by 
 Braxton on his shoulder. The want of a yoke of 
 oxeii was so much against our getting on, that we 
 
2«(i 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 |i! 
 
 deterniined to run some risk in getting ono, an<l 
 saved in every way possible with that in v" 'w. 
 Tlie Week l)el'ore New Year we hired a horse and 
 traineau from a neighbor, paying him in work, and 
 Braxton went to Montreal with two barrels of 
 potash. On his way down he had the otter at 
 the Basin of a heifer that was coming in, and in- 
 stead of buying the cloth intended, he saved the 
 money, and took her on his way home. She was 
 a real beauty, and, out of all the cows we liad 
 aftei', there was not one to me like her, she was 
 so kindly and proved such a grand milker. We 
 were all so proud of her that, for a week after 
 she came, we never tired looking at her, and the 
 chihlren were comforted for the want of the 
 clothing they needed by having her for a pet. 
 You may not think it, but the sorest v/ant of our 
 settlement was clothes When those brouj^ht from 
 the Old Country were do.ie, there was no money 
 to spare to buy others, and families who had 
 plenty to eat were nigh half-naked, you may say, 
 and on very cold 'lays could not venture out. I 
 did the best I could, patching and durning, yet we 
 all suffered much from cold that winter on ao- 
 eou.nt of want of sufficient clothing. Braxton, 
 poor man, had only a thickness of cloth between 
 him and the weather, yet he never complained 
 and went to his work in the bush on the coldest 
 days. The exposure, together with hard work, 
 told on him afterwards and shortened his life. 
 
A SETTLEUS STOUY. 
 
 287 
 
 When tlie luiiiber-camps wore breaking np, we had 
 a chance of a yoke of oxen within our ability to 
 pay for, and th(^y were brought home to the barn 
 that had been raised before the snow came. We 
 had not straw enougli for three head, but managed 
 lu keep tliem alive by cutting down tre(is for them 
 to eat the tendei* ends of the branches. Many a 
 pailful of browse I snapped oti' for my l)ossie tliat 
 s[)ring. It was well for us the grass came early. 
 
 I do not know that I have nnich more to tell 
 that would interest you. The oxen gave us a 
 pfieat start in clearing the land, and that season 
 we did more than all we liad done before. We 
 paid the seignior I'egularly, and once we were a 
 little ahead it was wonderful how well we ir<>t on. 
 Tlien you must bear in mind, that, as my boys 
 (frow up, we were strong in help, and our placo 
 improved quickly compared with the generality 
 i)t' those beside us. That fall we got another cow 
 iuid two sheep, so that we never afterwards want- 
 ed for milk or yarn. It was a hard struggle, with 
 many ups and downs, nmch slavish work and 
 pinching and paring, but in course of time we had 
 all we could reasonably wisli and were content. 
 
 I was long concerned about the schooling of my 
 children, of wliom only two had got any before 
 leaving Scotland. We couM not help ourselves 
 until the fourth year of our coming, when a niaUj 
 lame of a leg, came round and told us he was a 
 schoolmaster. The neighbors consulted and one 
 
 ii!^ 
 
288 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ^■■1 
 
 of tln'in fj^ave a log stable he was not using, which 
 was fitted up as a schoolhouse, and the man set 
 to work. He could teach his scholars little, ainl 
 tried to cover up his dtiticiencies by tluvsliini^r 
 them unmercifully. He was got rid of and an- 
 other hired, who was moi-e (lualified hut was given 
 to drink. Thev were a miserahh? lot of teachers 
 in those days, being either lazy or drunken fellows 
 who took to keeping school without considerini; 
 whether they were (|ualiHed. In course of time 
 we had a church at Ormstown, Mr Cohiuhouii, a 
 proud Highlander, being the first minister. When 
 we came, there was only one (old Jones) livini; 
 where Ormstown stands, now it is a larw villa'-v. 
 with buildinfjs the like of which nobody couM 
 have expected to sec. There has been a wonder- 
 ful improvement all over, and, when I first saw- 
 it, to have foretold the country would become 
 what it now is, nobody wouhl have believed. 
 That the people have improved correspondingly 
 I do not think. The inoney, scraped together hy 
 the hard wo}-k of their fathers, I have seen s(|nan- 
 dered by lads who despised the plow, and the np- 
 setting ways of many fan.ilies are pitiful to sie. 
 Folk in the old times lived far more simply and 
 happily. 
 
 Yon want to know what became of Braxton. 
 He died 14 years after we came here. It was in 
 the winter and I thought he had caught cold while 
 skidding logs in the bush. Any way, inflannnation 
 
A SETTLEllS STORY. 
 
 289 
 
 set in, and he died within a week of his first com- 
 plaining. We mourned sorely for him. A more 
 patient or truer soul never breathed, and to the 
 example he set my boys, who have all done well, 
 I set down much of the credit. We counted up 
 his share of the property, and, adding £20 to it, 
 sent it to his sister in England, who was his only 
 relative. I may say all my old acquaintances are 
 (^one, for there are few now on the river who were 
 there when I came, and I wait patiently to follow 
 them, living happily, as you see, with Ailie and 
 her children until the Lord is pleased to call me. 
 
 »o 
 
JEAXIE MORISOK 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 Only those wlio have lived in a cold country like 
 Canada can fully realize the pleasurable sensatioib 
 which attend the opening of spring. The wcjut 
 monotony of winter, with its unvarying aspect < if 
 white fields, and steady frost, often so intense as 
 to niake exposure painful, gives way to freedom 
 and life, and with some such feelings as stir the 
 heart of the prisoner, when he exchanges his 
 darksome cell for sunshine and green fields, dots 
 the dweller of Canada hail the time when tlu' 
 snowbanks disappear and when he can, without 
 wraps, nrftve whether he will in the genial atmo- 
 sphere. It was at that period of the year when the 
 simple incidents I am going to relate took place. 
 
 Amid the unbroken forest which covered the 
 county of Huntingdon in the year 1820, a lo^j 
 shanty stood on the west bank of Oak creek, at 
 a point where the beavers had by their industry 
 formed a small meadow. The shanty was nule 
 
JEAME MOllISOy. 
 
 291 
 
 ii< might bo, of unsquarecl logs, with a roof of 
 Uisswood split into slal)s, and a stick chiiiuR'y. 
 Tlu' interior consisted of a single room, and a 
 small one at that. The inmates were a mother 
 and daughter. The mother, engaged in spinning, 
 at in the sunshine which streamed through the 
 (ipen door, brightening the few pieces of Inrni- 
 tiiro it fell upon and whitening still more the 
 heaps of ashes in the open fire-place, behind which 
 smouldered a huge backlog. She had evidently 
 passed her fiftieth year, while the pressed lips and 
 Idok of patient reserve told of the endurance of 
 a lifelongf sorrow. 
 
 "Dae ye no see or hear ocht?" she asked, look- 
 ing through the doorway to the woods beyond, 
 to which she often turned her eyes. 
 
 "No, mother," replied the girl addressed, who 
 was sitting on the do ^rstep. 
 
 "What can hae come ower him!' said the wo- 
 man in a low voice. 
 
 "Dinna fret; he'll be here soon," said Jeanie in 
 atone that spoke more of a desire to comfort her 
 mother than faith in her statement. 
 
 As if not heeding her, the mother resumed, "He 
 Siiid he would be back last nicht, and he should 
 bae been. I sair misdoot ill has befaen him." 
 
 It was of her husband of whom she spoke. He 
 had worked all w^inter for a party of Americans, 
 who were cuttinaf the best of the timber alono" the 
 banks of the creek, and had gone Monday morning 
 
 liiv 
 
292 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ^1 
 
 to aid them in driving the logs to the point (»n 
 the Chateaugay where they were to be foninf] 
 into rafts and thence taken to Quebec. His last 
 words had been that he would, at the latest, be 
 back the following evening and it was now tlie 
 third day. 
 
 Jeanie strained her eyes and ears to catcli the 
 faintest sign of her father's approach. The cjuaver 
 of the grey-bird and the chirrup of the chipimink 
 came occasionally from the recesses of the woods, 
 which lay sleeping in the April sunshine that 
 glorified everything, but no rustle of branch or 
 cracking of dried stick that would indicate an 
 approaching footstep. The usually silent creek, 
 now swollen by melted snow, lapped its banks in 
 pursuing its tortuous course, murmuring a sooth- 
 ing lullaby to the genial day; and that great peace, 
 to be found only in mountain recess or forest 
 depth, brooded over the scene. But there, where 
 all the influences of nature were so soothing, were 
 two hearts filled with anxious care. 
 
 "Jeanie," suddenly exclaimed the mother, after 
 a long pause, and staying the wliirr of the wheel, 
 "you maun gang and seek your father. Gae down 
 to Palmer's and there you'll find the rafts, and 
 the men will tell you whether he left for hame 
 
 or no. 
 
 j> 
 
 "But I dinna like to leave you, mother, and I 
 am sure you are taking trouble without need. He 
 will be here by dark." 
 
JEANIE MOHISON. 
 
 293 
 
 The rnotlior understood the aftectionate motive 
 of her child in trying to make light of her fears, 
 but well knew her anxiety was no less than her 
 own. 
 
 "Say nae mair, my lassie, but gang while there 
 is time for you to get back. You ken the yarn 
 for the Yankee wife at the Fort is ready and there 
 is no flour until he gangs there for it." 
 
 Castino^ one lonj; eac^er fflance down the creek, 
 along which her father should come, the girl turn- 
 ed in from the door and made ready for the 
 journey. Her preparations were easily made. The 
 slipping on of her stoutest pair of shoes and 
 throwing a plaid over her arm, as a hap from the 
 cold after sunset, comprised them, and bidding her 
 mother not to fret for she would bring back good 
 news she started. She did not follow the creek, 
 but struck northward across the peninsula that 
 forms the township of Elgin, her design being to 
 reach Tront river, as being more fordable than the 
 wider Chateaugay. The path was, probably, at 
 first a deer run, which tlie few who travelled it, 
 chiefly lumbermen, had roughly brushed. Only 
 one accustomed to the woods could have kept the 
 track, for, to a stranger's eye, it differed little from 
 the openings which ever and anon appeared among 
 the trees. Jeanie, however, was no novice to the 
 path or to the bush, and she stepped quickly and 
 with confidence on her way. She had walked 
 about an hour beneath the solemn sfloom of the 
 
294 
 
 (iU:ANKK TALES. 
 
 ])i'Iin<'val forest wlicn slie saw an op 'iiiii^^ alna<l, 
 and knew si a.' was approacliinj^- Trout rivci-. Om 
 read lino- it, sh(3 t'ollo\vc'<l its bank, until, with «iini 
 end j^rouiKlcd in a little bay, she found a Ini^t'. 
 loi;. (Jraspin;^ the first strai<^dit stick she >a\v 
 lyinj;' about to sor\'e as a j)ol(', she pusluMl the hrjr 
 from its anchorage, and stepping on it as it inov.'fj 
 guided it across the narrow j'ivei*. Fnjni the lialiil- 
 ity of the log to I'oll, such a mode of ferrying is 
 (hmi'-ej-ous to those unused to it, but Jeanie kiicw 
 liow to ])lace her feet and keep her balance ami 
 speedily gained the other bank and resumed Imt 
 journey. On reaching the place where the two 
 rivers unite, she could not, despite her anxiety, 
 help pausing to admii'e the ])eantiful exj)ajis(' of 
 water, which, unruilied by a breath of wind, l;iy 
 glassing itself in the sunshine, while tin; torest, 
 which rose from its margin on either side, formed 
 no unfit setting. Presently she vsaw a ripple ujtou 
 its surface, and her keen eye perceived the lilack 
 head of a nmskrat, wdiich was making its way U) 
 thi; opposite bank. While she followed the i'api<l 
 movements of the little creature, there was the 
 tiash and smoke of a gun before her, and, while tlie 
 woods were still echoing the report, a dog juuipe<l 
 into the water to bring in the rat, which floated 
 dead upon the current. A few steps brought Jeanie 
 to the marksman, a tall, wiry man, of rather pre- 
 possessing appearance. His dog had returned aiul 
 laid the rat at his master's feet, who was encour- 
 
JEANIE MOUISON. 
 
 •in: 
 
 ■,\ir\j]<r liiiii witll ('XcI)lIMationS of "fiOOll <l«>(r; u()0(l 
 
 ilo"-!" wlirn lie (Miun-ht sii'ht of \u'\\ 
 
 •'Wfuil ncow, who would a tliou;4^^ht it? Miss 
 .It'.uiif luTsi'lt' »in»l M(»l)()(lv «-'ls('. How do vou do;'" 
 And sti't'tcliini^ forth his sinrwv arm, he j^rasixMl 
 lit'i' hand in a chitch that wouM have iiiad<' a hear 
 slifd tears. 
 
 "Oh, I'm well, tliauk you, Mr l^almcr, and my 
 iiiothci", hut we're in sore trouhh'." 
 
 'Don't say the okl man is sick:*' and an anxious 
 look passed over th(; kindly face of the lionest 
 Vankee. 
 
 "Oil, dear sir, we (Tuna ken whethej* he's sick 
 111" well. He left liome Monday moi'uinj'' ami was 
 U) he hack next ni^ht and he hasna come yet, jind 
 I've come to ask after him and n'et help to find 
 him if nobody knows where he is?"' As she spoke 
 tlici't' was a tremor in .Teanie's voiei', and a tear 
 glistened on her (b"()(U);nu' evelaslies. 
 
 "Ha, do tell: this is serious," and the hunter 
 liiint upon his ritle and L(a/ed aV)sti-a('tedly upon 
 the river, as if trviuii: to conjecture what could 
 have l)econu? of tin* lost man, until, noting Jeanie's 
 'vidi-nt distress, he aroused himself, and, exhort- 
 inu- lier to keep up heart, 1(m1 tlie way to his liouse. 
 
 "You see, ' he said, as tlu'y picked their way 
 iihtnu' the rouii'li path hv the river's edu'e, "thei-o 
 ain't much to shotjt Vft an I what there is ain't 
 Worth killing', )iut I kinder felt lonesome to ho 
 iiltoiit doors so tine a day, an. I 1 t.)'.)k a stroll, tlio 
 
20(1 
 
 OLEANKU TALES. 
 
 I'' ' 
 
 It* '• 
 
 all 1 came across was that luushrat, which, <]<ini 
 it skill, ain't worth the lead that killed it." 
 
 "It" the shooting is poor, the tishin;^ will he 
 good," said Jeanie, who humored the spirit of tlu' 
 sportsman. 
 
 "Couldn't be better," answere<l Mr Palmer, 'I 
 speared seven salmon at the foot of the rapids 
 last night, and this morning I drew my seine full 
 of as pretty tish as you would want to clap your 
 eyes on." 
 
 'i'he sound of rushing water told of their uj)- 
 pr(»ach to the rapids, at the head of which, on a 
 knoll a few rods to the left, stood Mr Palmer's 
 house, which was a comfortable log one, over- 
 shadowed by majestic pines. On entering, they 
 found Mrs Palmer, a rather delicate-looking wo- 
 man, engaged in baking. Uttering an exclaina- 
 tion of surprise at the sight of Jeanie, she wiped 
 her dusty hands and gave her a cordial welcome, 
 as well she might, for the visits she had received 
 from members of her own sex, since she had taken 
 up her abode by the Chateaugay, might have been 
 counted on her fingers without exhausting them. 
 On learning the cause of Jeanie's journey, she re- 
 ceived the tidings with the same anxious look 
 as her husband. Evidently both entertained the 
 worst forebodings, while both had a delicacy in 
 speaking of what they believed to be the cause 
 of his absence. Neither had seen him, but tlie 
 gang of lumbermen he had helped were now form- 
 
JEANIK MOIUSON. 
 
 297 
 
 ini: a raft half a mile l^olow tho honso and it wjw 
 iirnm<^cMl that Mr PahncT should ^o and see them 
 while Jcanic would wait. Her hostess resumed 
 her baking, and Jeanie, feelinj^ the heat indoors 
 oppressive on so fine a day, sti^pped out and sat 
 on a loj^, near enou^di to keep up the conversation 
 yet sufficiently far to enjoy the halniy atmosphere 
 lunl the beauty of the scenic bcfon* her. And here, 
 U'fore attempting to describe it, let me tell what 
 iiiiumer of woman Jeanie was. She had that first 
 (liijility of a handsome |^irl, sUiture — she wtus tall, 
 with a form instinct with life — lithe and ji^raceful, 
 which, wlien matured by age, would become digni- 
 fied also. She had no pretension to beauty, beyond 
 what tlie liveliness of youth and a sweet temper 
 cun give to the countenance, but still her well- 
 forined mouth, gray eyes, a forehead broad though 
 not too high, and a wealth of light brown hair 
 went to form a face that was plejisant to look 
 upon. She had been a visitor at Palmer's house 
 Ijefore, but its surroundings were still sufficiently 
 novel to engage her even in her present distracted 
 frame of mind, for, as became a Scotchwoman, she 
 had a keen relish for whatever is beautiful in na- 
 ture. Above, and until directly opposite her, the 
 Chateaugay came sweeping, with graceful curve, 
 a wide, unruffled sheet of water, until suddenly it 
 fi'll over a rocky ledge and became a mass of foam- 
 ing rapids, which brattled between banks, covered 
 by trees and overhung by hazel bushes, until lost 
 
29S 
 
 * OLEANER TALES. 
 
 M 
 
 to siglit by a sliarp bond a considerable distaiict' 
 below.* Beinrr at Hood height, the rapids wciv 
 seen at their best, and Jeanie never wearied al- 
 niiring the graceful sweep of the smooth water 
 as it neared tlie ledge that prec(Mled its fall, or the 
 tumult of V)reakers into which, a moment aftt'i-. it 
 was t(3ssed. It flashed upon lier that the i-ivci- 
 was, perhaps, to prove a true type of hei' own find 
 lier mother's fate, — the even tenor of their hl'r 
 hitherto was about to be suddenly broken by lit r 
 father's disappearance, and thei\ the water, tossiMl 
 from rock to rock, broken into spray and di'ivcn 
 in every direction, except upward, would too truly 
 represent their life hereafter. Raising her gaze to 
 the south, she caught a glimpse, through a gash 
 among the trees on the opposite baidv where tin' 
 liad levelled them, of a I'ange of smooth mouMcil 
 liills, which, blue and soft in the sweet spring sun- 
 shine, brouixht back to memoi'v the dear old hills 
 of her native land, and iov minified with hci- 
 sorrow. 
 
 The afternoon wore away apace and still Mr 
 Palmer did not return. Above the noise of the 
 rapids Jeanie heard, now and tluMi, tlu* shouts of 
 th<' lumbermen as they heax'ed the logs in foi'iiiin.:' 
 their raft, and whom ViV Palmer liad gene down 
 to see. Havino finished her household duties ami 
 
 *Tlioso rapidri were kiiowri to old fsett'ei's as "P,iliii''i's 
 iMpidrt." The (jjarryiiig of theiu for buihliag piifpox's 
 lias greatly changed tlieif appearance. 
 
JEANIE MOIUSON. 
 
 290 
 
 spivad the supper on the table, Mrs Pahuer sat 
 down beside Jeanie and, with kindly craft, by 
 talking of commonplace matters, strove to divert 
 her mind, By-and-V)y the appearance ot* a tine 
 >paniel, the same that haJ swam to the rat, indi- 
 cated the approach of Mr Palmer, who, when he 
 came np to tliem, leading his eldest girl, a cliatter- 
 m^ child, seemed in no hurry to answei* the (jues- 
 tioning eyes of the two women. 
 
 "Blessed if the dog don't scent something," said 
 the worthy man, as lie watched the animal creep- 
 ing to a clump of underbrush to the right. 
 
 "}k)ther the dog," exclaimed Mrs Palmer, "wliat 
 <li(i the men tell 3''ou?" 
 
 "Waal, they ain't jest sure, you know, but they 
 ;;ui'ss 'tis all right," and as he drawled out the 
 words slowly and reluctantly, Jeani(^ couM see 
 that he was far from thinkiui^ it was all riir-ht. 
 
 "Oh, sir," she said, "you are a father yoursidf 
 and you are as dear to your child as she is to 
 you. Tell me the worst, and be done wi' it." 
 
 "Don't take on, Jeanie; it may be all right yet. 
 Your father helped to tote the logs to the foot 
 of the rapids, and left them, well and stnjng, to 
 walk home last night. I rather conjecture he lost 
 his way, but he will be home by this time." 
 
 This was all Mr Palmer seeme<l disposed to toll, 
 and. hoping for the best, she tried to share in her 
 host's ati'ected confidence as to her fathers safety, 
 and followed him in answer to his wife's call "That 
 
300 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 supper was ready." A capital cook, rnd having a 
 larder to draw from replenished by the gun and 
 rod of her husband, Mrs Palmer, in honor of her 
 guest, had spread a table that contrasted painfully 
 with the meagre fare to which Jeanie was accus- 
 tomed, and made her think of the mess of boiled 
 corn of which her mother would then be partak- 
 ing. After supper, the canoe was launched, and 
 bidding farewell to lier hostess and her little ijirl 
 on the river's bank, Jeanie stepped in, when, pro- 
 pelled by the paddle of Mr Palmer, it began 
 steadily to stem the current. 
 
 Who that has undergone the agony of sorrowful 
 apprehension has not noted how every trifling in- 
 cident that may have occurred during that period 
 has become imprinted indelibly upon the memory? 
 The watcher by the sick-bed, over which death 
 hovers, is puzzled how, at a time when the mind 
 is jfibsorbed with one thought, the perceptions 
 should be so sharpened as to note trivial events 
 and objects, down to tlie very furniture and pat- 
 tern of the wallpaper, which on ordinary occa- 
 sions leave no trace upon the memory. On that 
 April evening Jeanie's mind was laboring under 
 this intensified acuteness, and while brooding con- 
 tinually over her father's probable fate, to her 
 dying day she remembered every feat" ^e of the 
 scenery she v/as now passing. The smooth flow- 
 ing river, swollen and discolored by the melted 
 snow from the hills, hemmed in on either bank 
 
JEANIE MORISON. 
 
 801 
 
 by a thick growth of trees, many of which, as if 
 enamored with the beautiful sheet of water by 
 which they grew, bent over it until, in their leafy 
 prime, their branches almost kissed its surface. 
 Now, though leafless, their tops were glorified by 
 the setting sun, which filled the still air with the 
 lambent blue haze which distinguirhes the even- 
 ings of early spring in Canada. Keeping to the 
 Chateaugay at its union with Trout river, the 
 canoe stole silently beneath the shadow of the 
 overhanging trees until the mouth of Oak creek 
 was reached, when Jeanie stepped ashore to pur- 
 sue her way on foot to her home. Before bidding 
 her goodbye, Mr Talmer paused and said: "Now, 
 you keep up a good heart for whatever may hap- 
 pen, and we'll be up tomorrow to search the woods. 
 Give that to your mother and — God bless you." 
 Without giving her time to say a word, he pushed 
 his canoe into the stream and speedily glided out 
 of sight, leaving Jeanie standing on the bank per- 
 plexed by what he had said and holding the basket 
 he had thrust into her hands, which contained a 
 loaf of bread and a string of fish. With a heavier 
 heart than ever, she began to trace her way home- 
 ward by the creek. Once in that lonely journey 
 she thought she saw her father walking ahead of 
 her, and once she thought she heard his voice. She 
 called out and paused to listen for a reply. The 
 only sound that reached her was the dismal croak- 
 ings of the frogs. Knowing that her imagination 
 
802 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 was deceiving lior, she hurried on and, when slu- 
 caught the first glimpse of light gleaming from 
 her humble home, it outlined her mother's figure 
 seated on the doorstep waiting her return. 
 "You hav'na found him, Jeanie?" 
 "No, mother; and he hasna come hame?" 
 "What can hae come ower him!" exclaimed the 
 mother, as she sank into a seat hy the open fire- 
 place. 
 
 It was remarkable that in their conversation no 
 conjecture was hazarded by either as to the pro- 
 bable fate of the missing one. Both, plainly, enter- 
 tained the same painful surmise, which they were 
 alike ashamed to breathe. They sat by the glow- 
 ing backlog for many hours, hoping against hope 
 that the wanderer might return, until Jeanie over- 
 come by fatigue sought her bed. Once she awoke 
 during the night, thinking she heard a voice. She 
 listened in the darkless. It was her mother wrest- 
 ling with God on behalf of her '.father. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Early next day Jeanie and her mother saw a 
 short, stout man emerge from the woods. He was 
 a stranger to them, but his aspect indicated lie 
 was a lumberman. He had a towsy head of red- 
 dish hair and a matted beard and whiskers of the 
 same hue. 
 
 "A pleasant day, ma'am," he said, in a voice so 
 
JEANIE MOUISOX. 
 
 .so:{ 
 
 a voice so 
 
 M)ft and insinuatinfr, and contrastinj]^ so strikinLjly 
 with the rougluu'ss of his appearance, tliat Mrs 
 Morison was somewhat startled. "It is, indeed, a 
 tine spring day," she repHed. 
 
 "And th'.^ water is higli, ma'am, and tlie rafts 
 iiiv gettiuf^ away finely — oh, very finely," and the 
 man stood complacently eyeing the mother and 
 (laughter, and rubbing his hands. 
 
 "Hae ye seen ocht o' my husband? Ye'U hac 
 come about him?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear ma'am, don't fret; take it coolly 
 and comfortable like." 
 
 "I see ye ken aboot him; oh, dinna play wi' me, 
 luit tell me at once." 
 
 Not in the least discomposed, the little man, in 
 more oily tones than ever, replied, "Well, well, 
 ma'am, there is no defying it, accidents will iiap- 
 pen, you know. Yuu shouldn't be supposing the 
 worst, and taking it easy, for ' — 
 
 Before he could finish his sentence there was 
 hoard a heavy trampling in the woods, and soon 
 there came from beneath their cover half a dozen 
 men, four of them carrying a burden laid on two 
 poles. They came in silence to the door, when 
 Mrs Morison saw their burden was her husband. 
 Slie snatched away the red handkerchief that 
 covered his face, a glance at which showed lier 
 he was dead. She gave a' shriek that resounded 
 through the forest, and fell senseless upon the 
 corpse. 
 
304 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I 
 
 The career of the dead man may be told in a 
 few words. He had been the son of a small 
 farmer in the south of Scotland, a strapping, live- 
 ly fellow, who won the g(jod graces of the dan^r})- 
 ter of a draper in the neighboring village. Hit 
 parents opposed her keeping company with him, 
 not merely because his circumstances were in- 
 different but becaiise his habits were not of the 
 steadiest, he being fond of convivial gathering's, 
 at which, more than once, he had got overcome hy 
 drink. Their opposition seemed only to strengthen 
 their daughter's affection for the free-hearted, good 
 tempered young fellow, and the upshot was, that 
 one morning she was not to be found, and before 
 evening they learned she had been married. Tlie 
 imprudent match resulted as the parents had an- 
 ticipated ; the young man was unequal to the task 
 of supporting a wife and his habits did not mend. 
 Moving to a mining village, he got work as a 
 laborer, and out of his scanty earnings a large 
 percentage went into the till of the whisky shop 
 every Saturday night, so that his wife, to eke out 
 a living, had to exert herself to do something also. 
 Quietly and uncomplainingly she took in sewing, 
 washed, or spun, as opportunity offered, to earn an 
 honest shilling, and did what lay in her power to 
 keep things decent. Children came but none lived 
 to maturity save Jeanie. The village was un- 
 healthy, its fumes and murky smoke were not 
 favorable to childhood, typhus was a regular win- 
 
JEAXIK MOHISOX. 
 
 305 
 
 wv visitor, and, more tliaii all, the nairow means 
 it her disposal afforded not the necessaries of life 
 ill the ahundanee cliildren need, so, to her heart- 
 >on<>w, one after another was taken away. Time 
 passed, and lier father died, leavin^^ her a small 
 Icnacv, and with this she determined thev shonld 
 rini<''rate. She fondly thought were hei' hushand 
 ivinoved from his boon con»panions, were all liis 
 did associations hr(»ken, and h(i transplanted into 
 (I new sphere, he niiglit reform. Often had she 
 >tiiven with him, often had hope kindled in her 
 liosoni that he was going to keep the good reso- 
 liitiuns he so often foi-med ; always doomed to 
 hitter disappointment. To emigrate was the last 
 iliaiice, it seemed to her, and for Canada they 
 accordingly sailed. Deplorable to relate, on the 
 iliiy of their arrival at Quebec her husband got 
 Irunk with several of his fellow-passengers who 
 went to take, as they termed it, a parting glass, 
 <md Ijefore he got ovei- his spree the greater part 
 lit" their little stock of money was gone. Instead, 
 therefore, of being in a position to go to Upper 
 Canada and take up land, as intended, he had to 
 engage at Quebec with a lumberman who was 
 ;^'tting out masts and scjuare tindjer on the Cha- 
 ttaugay, and thus it came that, two years before 
 the opening of our narrative, he had made a home, 
 a poor one as w^e have seen, in what is now the 
 t')\vnship of Elgin. Altho their privations w^ere 
 ^reat, Mrs Morison did not regret the change from 
 
306 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 i*" ■■ 
 
 the dirty, scjualid, minin<( village in Scotlainl to 
 the lonely woods of Canada. Her husl)an(l Imd 
 fewer opportunities of gettin*^ drink an<l, on tli.' 
 whole, they lived happily. Possessing a superior 
 education herself and having moved before iitr 
 marriage in respectable society, she brought uji 
 her daughter very differently from what iiiii'lit 
 have been expected from their circumstances, find 
 Jeanie, despite her home-spun <lress, had actjuiiv- 
 ments and manners that (lualified her to move in 
 any station of life. As already stated, on tlir 
 Monday morning Morison had gone to assist in 
 running logs out of the creek. On the evc'iiiii;r 
 of the succeeding day his employer settled with 
 him for the season's work, and, in addition to the 
 small balance of wages that was cominii' to him, 
 gave him a few pieces of pork to take home uiid, 
 fatal parting gift, a bottle of rum. He left the 
 raftsmen in high spirits, an able-bodied if not very 
 active man, taking the track that led to his huni- 
 ble dwelling. What followed no human eye wit- 
 nessed. He never reached his home, and the 
 searching-party that morning had discovered his 
 body a few yards from the creek, stretched upuii 
 the ground, with his face immersed in a pool of 
 water — a pool only an inch or so in depth, left by 
 the melting of the snow and gathered in a cavity 
 formed by the roots of a tree. Had he, when he 
 stumbled and fell, moved his head ever so little. 
 he would have breathed and lived. The more 
 
JEANIE MORISON. 
 
 307 
 
 than half empty bottle, found in liis stony grasp, 
 iJiowed he had been too overcome to stir a hairs- 
 Ireadth, and there, in a basin of water, so small 
 that a s(|uirrel could have leaped it; so shallow 
 that a robin, in pruning his wings, could have 
 stepped through without wetting a feather; this 
 stalwart man, before whose axe the loftiest pines 
 had fallen and whose vijjorou. oar had stemmed 
 the rapids of the Chateaugay, had ignominiously . 
 met his death, within hail of the faithful wife an<l 
 iDvinjj dauiihter who wer(3 anxiously waitini^ his 
 return. Jeanie, in going homo the preceding even- 
 iiiij^, had unconsciously passed within a few paces 
 nf the body which once contained her father's 
 >pirit. On finding it, damp from the exposure of 
 a (lay and two nights, the searching party had 
 made the body as presentable as possible, and sent 
 ahead one of their number to break, as gently as 
 iniirht be, the news to the wife and <iau<;ht(ir. 
 With what success he, who was chosen on account 
 of his smooth tongue, ac(juitted himself, the reader 
 knows. 
 
 80 loner did Mrs Morison remain in her swoon 
 that once the dreadful thou^jht darted throufjh 
 Jeanie's mind that she was not going to recover, 
 and at one fell swoop she was to be deprived of 
 hoth parents. She did not cease her exertions, 
 however, and while bathing the rigid temples she 
 rejoiced to see the flush of returning animation. 
 Slowly did Mrs Morison raise herself to a sitting 
 
80<S 
 
 fJLEAXEU TALES. 
 
 postui'o, and looked in a dazed iiianner, as if won- 
 dering' why they were thei-e, at tiie rouirh hnniu r- 
 nien grouped around her, who stocxl in silence and 
 with the awkwardness of people who were anxi- 
 ous to help hut did not know how. Unconsciously 
 she moved her glance from one to the other until 
 it fell upon the hody of her luisband. Hecollcc- 
 tion returned in a Hash, and drawing the inani- 
 mate form to her lap she pressed the bloatecl and 
 discolored features to her lips. 
 
 "Oh, Willie," she exclaimed, unconscious in litr 
 overwhelming pjfssion of sorrow that there was u 
 listening ear, "lang did we ken ane anither and 
 hraw and gallant were you ance; my pride and juy. 
 Sair hae oor trials been and muckle hae ye heen 
 misguided, but aye faithfu and true to me, Ob 
 that I had been wi' you; oli, that ye had given nit.' 
 your last kiss and deed in my arms! There hae 
 been them wha c^.aspised you, wha tauld me to Itavi' 
 you; little did they ken o' the love that bound me 
 to you. Oh, that we should hae partit thus!" 
 
 Here she paused, and turning her eyes upwards 
 she slowdy and reverently said: "Merciful God, as 
 in your wise decree you have been pleased to 
 bring this affliction upon me, grant, in your pity. 
 that I tarry not long behind him whom ye hae 
 taen aw^a." 
 
 The solemn petition calmed the tumult of h' r 
 mind, and reverently disposing of the body, she 
 rose to her feet and said modestly — 
 
.JEAMK MoiasoX. 
 
 IW9 
 
 "\()\i will cxcuso inc. froons, for tjikinc]^ on sao 
 Hjiirly Jiforc yon, l»nt I (!onl<liia lirlp it: this niis- 
 foitunc lias coino so snddrn. I thank yon for 
 what yon hac «lnn<', and, ^in it he yonr ph'asiirc, 
 as yon can do nac iiiair noo, leave ns alane and 
 
 tl 
 
 onie thii ni(ji'n 
 
 to 1 
 
 )in* 
 
 1 
 
 y tnni wna s i^ani 
 
 a 
 
 The red-whiskered man was ahont to nialce 
 volnhle I'eply, when he was cnt short hy a tall 
 luiidternian, in whose eye tlu're irlistened a tear, 
 with the remark, 'Yes, ma'am, we are at yonr 
 
 service and mean to do all we can foi- yon." Then, 
 lookini,^ at his conn-ades, he said, "I^et ns o-o," atid 
 tiiinino- ahrnptly he led the way, leaN'ini^' the mo- 
 tluT and dano'hter alone with their dead. 
 
 cHAlTEn 11. 
 
 It is trne in the moral world as in tlu? niMteiial 
 that after a storm comes a calm. The Ji'^ony of 
 suspense, the wild l)ni'st of passionate soi-row had 
 swept over them, an<l the mornini:;' sncceedinu^ the 
 sad discovery found mothei* and <langhter com- 
 posed and resii;-ned. The woi'st was now known, 
 11 worst there was no I'emedvinii', and so they liow- 
 ed, withont nee<lless fret oi- repinin(^^ beneatli the 
 tn/d. The sun had I'isen in an nnclouded sky and 
 his heams were wai'mer than on the pi-eceding 
 'lays, and as they came poni-ing down nnstintin^- 
 ly on the tnrbid waters of the creek and the 
 uplifted branches of the forest, it seemed as if 
 
:no 
 
 Ci LEA NEK TALES. 
 
 j^ 
 
 BunniHT was nij;h and })U(ls and leaves and ^^vrrn 
 sward woidd speedily succeed tlu; birds whost* 
 noisy concert usliered in the rosy dawn. Every- 
 tl»in<( had been arranjj^ed in the liundjle slianty 
 with all the deftness of ()rder-l()vin<r liands; on 
 one side of it, beneath a white cloth, was tin* 
 corpse. Mrs Mori.son was seated on the chair at 
 the window; Jeanie sat at her feet on the door- 
 step. 
 
 "VVasna father a bi-aw man wlien you tirst foiv- 
 gathered ?" 
 
 "He was the handsomest lad in the countryside: 
 a very pleasure for the ee to rest on. Little dac 
 they ken what he was like that <lidna see him 
 tlien, and a kinder or truer heart couldna be. ' ), 
 Jeanie, I Just worshipped him when we were bd 
 and lass." 
 
 "But yoi • father didna like him?" 
 
 "Dinna put it that way, Jeanie. He like<l him 
 but he saw a faut in him that spoiled a'. I was 
 wilfu. I said Willie would gie up the coui])any 
 lie keepit when he was merrit, and that it was 
 guid-fellowship and no love o' the drink that en- 
 ticed him. I dinna say that I regret what 1 <lul, 
 or that my lot hasna been as guid as I deserves! 
 — God forgive me that I should repine or say an 
 unkindly word o' him that lies there — but younif 
 folks dinna lippen to their parents in choosing 
 partners as they ocht." 
 
 "Hoots, mother; when a lad or lass hae found 
 
JEAXIK MORISON. 
 
 lUl 
 
 thi'ir heart's love, wluit for siild father or mother 
 interfere!*" 
 
 "Kasy sai<l, Jeanie, hut think ye there is ony 
 Itody in tlie \vi<h' vvorM loes son or doehtcr a^ a 
 pjiicnt <loes? They are as the apple o' thrir ee, 
 aiitl his or hci* happiness is all they seek. Doot- 
 Icss there are warld's worms o' parents whn only 
 look to the suitor's u(.}ir ami wa<l hreak oH' the 
 truest love-match that ever was <rin he were puir. 
 I (linna speak o' them, foi' they ai'e out o' the 
 question. Hut take parents hy ordinar, who only 
 seek their hairns' welfare, and the son or dochter 
 wliu disremii'ds their advice in ehocjsin;;' a life- 
 iiifite will hae inickle to repent o." 
 
 "I dinna see hoc that is," said deani<', "for suioly 
 tlit'ii" marriaj^'e concei'iis nidy themselves:'" 
 
 "True in a sense, deanie, that as we mak oor hed 
 wi' ujaun lie on't. Thiid< ye, thon^^h, o' a parent's 
 txpei'ience, that nae i^lamor o' I'Ve hlinds their ee, 
 that their haill concern is for their hairn's happ - 
 iit'ss, and they may see fauts in tin; would-bt 
 partiier o' their child that can only result in mees- 
 • ry. Youno- folks shouldna think their parents 
 are ohstinate or stupid when they oppose their 
 iiiiU'j'vinuf this ane oi* that ane. In maist cases 
 tliey hue so]i<l reason for theii* opposition, and the 
 M)n is foolish that winna ^et his parents consent 
 ''•'f.ire he uan^'s too far and the dochter sillv in- 
 •Ked who savs Yes without takinii" counsel o' lier 
 iiutther." 
 
312 
 
 GLEAXEK TALES. 
 
 "Oil, but that wadnti dae always," replied Jeaiiic, 
 doprecatingly, in a tone as if such a course would 
 rol) love of its romance. 
 
 "Come, noo, Jeaiie, tell me what bettei' adviser 
 can a dochter hae than her mother, and liasna tlu' 
 father a richt to hae some say in a match seeini^^ 
 that, if it disna turn out weel, he niay hae a usi- 
 less son-in-law to sorn on him or, in his auld d.iys, 
 hae his dochter or a tawpy of a son's wife come 
 wi' a wheen liairns to seek shelter in his haiiic' 
 Na, na, the first commandment wi' proniise iv- 
 quires obedience in this as in ither callings o' litV, 
 and happy is the wedding whaur the true hnc o' 
 the young couple is crooned wi' the blessings 
 (given without a misgiving) o' their parents, for 
 there is, then, a i-easonal'le prospect that the match 
 will prove what a' should be — a heaven upon earth. ' 
 
 "Mightna the parents be mistaen, mothers' ' 
 
 "Aye, and so might the lad or lass, and i';i;; mair 
 likely that the young should err than the auM. 
 Had I taen the advice my father and mother 
 pressed on me, advice that came frae theii* lift- 
 long experience and their aii'ection for me, it wail 
 liae been different — no that I reo'ret what has 
 happened for mysel but for you, Jeanie, that nitiuii 
 grow up in this wilderness, and for your britlids 
 and sisters wha nae j'ane to a better hind. ' Ami 
 here, as the ivniendjrance of the years (^f poverty 
 and of wretchedness caused by her husband's intem- 
 perate habits flashed upon her, she burst into teais. 
 
JEAN IE MOKISON. 
 
 313 
 
 'Oh, 
 
 til 
 
 motiiei 
 
 exclainiLH 
 
 1 J 
 
 eaiiie, as risinnr anc 
 
 I 
 
 standing beside her she clasped her bowed head 
 to her bosom, "dinna tak on so. I wadna hae had 
 it otherwise, and wad siiner hae bided wi' you 
 than had the (jueen on the throne for my mother. 
 We hae boen ver}^ happy for a' that has come and 
 none, and sae will we yet. Were it to part us, I 
 wadna marry the best man in a' Canada; I will 
 aye be wi' you and will aye be obedient to your 
 
 wil 
 
 1 ken that, my bairn, but," said the mother 
 
 promise me this — 
 
 raising her tear-stained face, 
 and it is a promise that him wha lies there wad 
 liae backed, for weel he kent his ain faut— that» 
 nao matter lioo ye may be di-awn to him, you will 
 never marry a man that likes his glass," 
 
 •'I promise," said Jeanie with simple solenuiit}'', 
 and drawino; up her o-iaceful tiiT^ure to its full 
 lK'i!j,ht, she, as if anxious to break off the sul)ject, 
 turned to o'et a wet towel, with which she wiped 
 
 h 
 
 )th 
 
 ]<■]' luotner s lacc 
 
 fi 
 
 'for 
 
 d 
 
 as sue remar 
 
 ked, 
 
 pe( 
 've maun 
 
 lie decent when the folk come 
 
 It was nigh noon before any of the visitors 
 
 made their 
 
 app 
 
 earance. In the then unsettled 
 
 n 
 
 state of the countiy news spread slowly eve 
 when messengers wei'e sent out expressly to cany 
 it. K>- rybody came that lu-ard of the nielancholy 
 occurrence, for in those primitive days, when only 
 the vouno- and healthy inhabited this section of 
 country, deaths were so rare that a funeral was 
 
 -j. .ii 
 
 .i< 
 
314 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 M 
 
 regarded as an important event which nobody 
 missed. Straggling in from different points they 
 came in twos and threes, except tlie lumberiuir- 
 party with whom the deceased had been connected, 
 who appeared in a body marching up the chm k. 
 carrying the coffin — a rude box of unplaned boards 
 — with Mr Palmer leading. Two features in tlic 
 assemblajTe were noticeable, one beinjjf that luirdlv 
 a man amonjx them had a coat, the other tlie tV-w- 
 ness of the women. The men, great brawny fal- 
 lows in home-made shirts and pants fastened by 
 belts, gathered in clusters in the clearing to ex- 
 change news and talk over the circumstances at- 
 tendinir the event that liad brouoht them tom'tlur. 
 while the women went into the house. Thu sun 
 was sinking fast towards the west before the pre- 
 parations necessary for the burial were compk ed. 
 When the word went round that the i»-ravt' was 
 ready, one by one they fyled into the house to 
 take a last look of the face of their late neiglibor, 
 after whieli the lid of the coffin was nailed down. 
 There was no olergyman to be had at the time 
 and among those present thei'e was no one in- 
 clined, even if capable, to conchict religious ser- 
 vices. If the solemn observances of such occasions 
 were absent, those pi'esent had not come uii|)ri'- 
 pared to maintain a custom which in those days 
 was universal in Canada, and, foi' all the writer 
 knows, may still be in the Mother Country — tliat 
 of passing a glass of liquor before lifting the 
 
JEAN IE MORISON. 
 
 315 
 
 coffin. A man, with a jar in one hand and a tin 
 cup in the other, went round the company, tender- 
 bg the filled cup to each, which it would have 
 been bad manners to refuse and which nearly all 
 emptied before returning, When all out of doors 
 had been helped, the man, a well-meaning, kindly 
 fellow, stepped into the shanty to regale tiiose in- 
 side. Thinking it good manners, he pressed to 
 where Mrs Morison was sitting and, deliberately 
 tilling the cup to the brim, tendered it to her first. 
 
 Mrs Morison gave him a piercing look. "WhatI" 
 she e'xclaimed in a low voice, so emphasizetl by 
 deep feeling that every word sunk into the minds 
 of those present; "What! Do you ask me to take 
 that which has murdered m}^ husband?" 
 
 "Take a taste, ma'am," said the red-whiskered 
 man, who was in the room, "it will do you good." 
 
 "Do me good !" she re-echoed, "then it will be 
 for the first time in my life. That do me good 
 that took away the bread for lack of which my 
 bairns, noo saints in glory, perished ! That do me 
 good that robbed my husband of his usefulness 
 ami good name; that made him fit for only orra 
 jobs and to be despised as a di-unkard I That do 
 Jiie good the love of which supplanted his love for 
 me, for it was the stronger o' the twa or wad he 
 no hae left it alane for my sake? That do me 
 good that filled his bosom with remorse, which 
 hurt his health, and, last of all, has taen his life! 
 Oh, that it hasna caused the loss of his soul; that, 
 
 i 
 
31G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 in tlu) moment of his passing breath, he ffnind 
 time to seek acceptance with God for th(^ Re- 
 deemer's sake! Take it away," she screamed with 
 the energy of one who shrinks at the siglit (jf u 
 snake, "take it away, and may the curse of the 
 widow and the orplian rest upon them that make 
 and sell it — wha tempt decent men to destruction 
 in order that they may have an easy living." 
 
 A'oashed at so unexpected a reception, the man 
 continued to stand stupidly before her, holdini; 
 the cup and jar. Seeing his puzzled look, Mrs 
 Morison, who had i*ecovered her composure, (jiiiet- 
 ly said, "I ken you mean it kindly, and sae far 1 
 thank you, but gin 3'ou think o' it, you v.ill seo 
 that the bottle may be your own worst enemy anil 
 they are safest and happiest who leave it ahuic. 
 As a favor freen, I ask you no to offer it in this 
 house." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards the coffin was borne 
 out of doors, when four lumberers lifted it on tlieir 
 shoulders, and, leading the straggling procession, 
 walked to the fijrave, which had been diic!- on a 
 knoll close to the creek, the only spot that could 
 be found convenient sufficiently free of trees and 
 their roots. When the coffin wa^ lowered, each 
 man lifted his hat for a moment, there was jv 
 pause, and then the grave was filled in. 
 
 With thoui^htful kindness those who came liiid 
 brought some gift of food to replenish the widow's 
 larder, and now, while all the rest depi>rted, tlic 
 
 
JEAXIE MOIUSON. 
 
 317 
 
 lumbermen remained, until sunset, chopping fire- 
 woo<l and putting the house and its surroundings 
 U) rights, so that, before tliey hiy down to sleep 
 that night, Mrs Morison and Jeanie included in 
 tlieir prayer thanks to God for having so bounti- 
 fully provided for them. 
 
LOST IX THE WOODS. 
 
 i^i 
 
 You have heard of my passing a night in tlio 
 bush, and want rne to tell you about it. When we 
 came to Hinchinbrook, which was in July, 18.'}], 
 the shanty my husband put up did not stand 
 where this house is, but on a ridge at the end of 
 the lot. For tlie first two years we had no neioh- 
 bor nearer than lialf a mile, for though the lots 
 on each side of us were granted, nobody was then 
 living upon them. From morning to dark I saw 
 nothing but the bush that encircled our house and 
 the little clearance of blackened stumps. Oh, but 
 it was lonely! It was w^orse than a jail, for the 
 prisoner gets a blink out of his cell window of the 
 w^ide prospect without, and of houses and people, 
 but I saw nothing for several years but trees, and 
 trees, until our clearance so extended that it met 
 that on the oast side of our lot, and all at once we, 
 one fine day, came in sight of a neighbor's house. 
 The second Spring we were on the lot, my 
 husband left to help to take a raft down to the 
 
LOST. 
 
 319 
 
 Basin, leaving me alone with Henry, who was then 
 the baby. He expected to be back in four days, 
 or by the end of the week at furthest. If it had 
 not been that I had so much work to do I would 
 have cried my eyes out, it was so iiii.ierable to be 
 left alone in the woods, and William had never 
 h(M'n away so long before. The four days passed 
 and Sabbath came, but he did not. I got very 
 anxious, and all day could scarcely keep my eyes 
 off the spot at which he would come out of the 
 l)ush, and where the track from the river crossed 
 our lot, and at night I could not sleep a wink, 
 tliinking every moment I heard his footstep. Once 
 I was sure I heard him moving outside. I got up 
 and opened the door and called his name. There 
 was no answer, and it was so dark I could not see 
 a rod off. Lighting a bit of pitch pine at the fire, 
 I held it up to look again, when there was a patter 
 of feet and something bounded by me. It was 
 sugar-time and there were a few trees tapped 
 around the house. The noise I heard was a few 
 deer drinking the sap out of the troughs. I 
 knew not what to do. I wanted to go in search 
 of William, but how could I leave our small stock? 
 They might starve before I got back, and that 
 would ruin us. It happened Monday afternoon, 
 just when I had determined to go over to the 
 nearest neighbor and see if I could get some one 
 to go and enquire for my husband, though I knew 
 it would be useless, for every man and boy old 
 
 V 11 
 
820 
 
 GLEANER TALES 
 
 
 enouolj had <:^one with tlie rafts. I was wra|)j)iii;^^ 
 hii\iy ill a shawl, when the door dark(»ned and a 
 strange voice ba<le me good day. It was tliat of 
 a young lad from the second concession. He whs 
 on his way home, and had a message from Wiljiain. 
 In running Dumouchel's rapids the raft had buntttl 
 on a stone, throwing her crew off' their feet. In 
 falling, William's oar had struck his left arm and 
 broken it. I thanked God it was no worse. He 
 told the boy I was not to be anxious, that he iVlt 
 so well he hoped to be able to leave for houie in 
 a few days. I questioned the lad, and from what 
 he told me, I guessed my husband was worse than 
 he let on. My resolution was made; I would l^o 
 and see him. The lad said he had to go home first, 
 but promised to come back next morning and tiiul 
 the stock until I returned. Before croino-, I "-ot 
 liiiii to fell a few saplings for the young beasts to 
 browse on their tops, for the fodder was nearly 
 done. Then I prepared for my journey; cooking 
 enough to keep the lad while away, and bakino 
 some cakes to take to my husband. It would he 
 past 5 o'clock in the afternoon when I was ready 
 to leave, but I considei'ed I would be able to reach 
 the Chateaugay before dark, and once on its banks 
 I would b(j safe to get a night's rest. With bahy 
 in my arms I started brave enough, but had not 
 gone many acres in the woods until I felt I had 
 acted raslily. I had gone over the path only a 
 few times and never alone, so that I was not so 
 
LOST. 
 
 :121 
 
 \v<!l }i('i|n;iinttMl with it n^ I tlmuLilit I wns uiul. 
 iidiii tilt snow Iia\ii._, lU'wly ukUciI, it was not 
 as jilain as usual. 1 pivsscd on until I I'dt that 
 1 had N\alk('<l so far that, if (»n the ri^'ht track, [ 
 >lu)uhl have I'cacluMl the I'ixci', while I had nofc 
 .veil foiiic to the ()utard('. Thf sunlli^ht had loni^ 
 left the tri'i'tojis and the stars hiid ltcL;ini to _L;lini- 
 iiK'i", when J isnw it U]), convinced that, likelv in 
 ^uiiie" to one side to pass a wet spot. I had left 
 till' track, and that I was lost in the woods. As- 
 sui-('<l ] had lost niv wa\'. I l:n<'W it would be 
 madness to walk farthci", and so. while I could 
 Mc. 1 ])ickcd out a licinlock knoll, and cho()sine- a 
 lii^' hendock that liad some cedar hushes n'l-owine- 
 near, J sat down heneath it. It was not verv cold, 
 tlioULih in the cleai'ances I da.resav there was freest, 
 rakinii" a. cake out of niv Tiocket f made mv su))- 
 
 IMT, 
 
 P>ah 
 
 1 h 
 
 >h 
 
 h 
 
 )y was wry e-ood and lay asleep ni h.s 
 ^lla^vl. \Vrappine- jiim niore waruily in the lo]:«^^ 
 |ilaid 1 liad around my shouldei's, I clasped him 
 
 1 
 
 to my itosom and, scj wc 
 
 I 
 
 aried was I, tliat I fell 
 
 iisleep. I awoke with a stai't. I thoui^lit I heaj'd 
 
 some on 
 
 e calliuL'". 1 listened and the sound sex 
 
 n 
 
 eanie aoain. It was th.c cry of a wolf at soni(} dis- 
 tanco. Anotlier answered fnjm some otlier part 
 
 'f the woods, and another and another. Yoii have 
 loticed, on a calm niglit, how, if a dog- barks, eveiy 
 
 01!' within lu_!arinir answers; it is the S) 
 
 \V(j1 
 
 vcs, on 
 
 ly tl 
 
 » 
 
 une Willi 
 
 th 
 
 leir cries are more varied, rani'inL'" 
 
 tiom a deep liowl to a whine like that of a child 
 
 I 
 
 .^ 
 
 ?4a 
 

 (a.KAXKII TAMiS. 
 
 in ]>nii). I sliudtlci-rd I'm- my I'lilir. wlio still sltpr 
 and, kissiiiir liim, r('Sf)lv<Ml I sIkhiM di*' I»c|niv 
 t.lic Iti'Utcs Would I'cacli liiiii. For n lonu^ tiim- | 
 sat and listcncfl, until tlic (.'i-irs died away, iVom 
 tlie licasts a])]iar<'iitlv liurrviu!'' to sonir distiuii 
 |)oint in jiursuit of tlu-ii' ]nvy. J ai^oiin sh'pt, Imw 
 lonir I do not know, hut was awakened l.v some- 
 tliini'' warm sti'okiniif niv elieok. It was our don 
 lic'kini:; my face. I had shut Inm in th<' house tn 
 he a watcli on it, hut he had hroken out soiiir wnv 
 and. seenting my steps. Iiad overtaken us. 1 was 
 so desolate and lonesome, a!id .so i^lad to liavc 
 rollie's company, that my heart ieapetl with lia]'- 
 piness as he cuddled down heside me and woiiM 
 n<jt jji^e over lickini:" mv hands and face for \(r\- 
 joy. J should he asliamed to tell it, l)ut, sir. a 
 '»"ood dofT is hettei* than a false friend, and ('(•llir 
 was a most faithful heast. Aftei- that I slept with 
 (•(^ntidence, and it was good dayliolit wlien 1 awoke, 
 cold an<l stiff with my first and last ni'dit's rest in 
 the woods, ])ut refreshed and cc)ntident. J woiiM 
 not touch more of my cakes, for I wanted tlicm 
 for my hushand, so, thaidsing- (Jod for preserviiiL; 
 n\Q so far, I went on my way, hah}' crowin^• ;it 
 the siirlit of Collie, as lie mimholed around us with 
 yelps. Marking as well as I could from the way 
 liis rays fell, where the sun rose, 1 went noi'tli, f«M 
 I knew that in that direction I wouhl soon coiiit' 
 across the Outarde. Sure enough, I had not gent> 
 a quarter of a mile, when I came upon it, fiowiii-: 
 
 ^3 
 
 i'j 
 
LOST 
 
 
 led Jind full, for it was liii;!! wiitcr. Kiiowini;- I 
 was safe, and that I would (juickly couu' u])ou one 
 (if tin.' si'ttlci's l)\' its liajiks, 1 liunicd on in i-rcat 
 >l)i>its, and canit* out on John Hughes' clcjuin!', 
 111(1 was spt't'dily soatiMJ }>y tlu'ir Mazini,^ lo;;' lir«> 
 at Licakfast. My tr()ul)lt's wciv now over, :\\u\ I 
 ^;l\v that, instead of i^^oini;' north, I had wandn-cd to 
 the cast. A little hoy went with \\\r. to Sti'aehan's. 
 where I crossed the ( Miateauirav, and resinniu!'- n»v 
 walk j'ot to the house, near Ste Mai-tine, wheir niv 
 husband lav. in the afternoon. It was well I went. 
 for his liurt had brouiiht on a slinht /e\ei', and 
 thouii'h the habitant's faniilv weiv kind, thev eould 
 not lUH'se hiui as F did. These wei'e anxious but 
 happy days, for William was ovei'joyed to have ni«' 
 Inside him, and I was i;lad to be of service' to him. 
 Ill ten davs J)r 8vme told me he would bear the 
 iournev, and wttinu" a cast in one of Reeves's 
 
 J ' 
 
 n 
 
 (>■ 
 
 cauees as far as the Porta^;!', we were safe back i 
 niir own house befoi'e ni»^ht, to find eveiythin 
 liitter than we expected. It was a di-awback 
 William's arm, for it was some time bef(jre lie 
 ntuld do hai'd work with it, but we ijot over that 
 1 many another back.set, and, if we are now 
 
 aiK 
 
 ni 
 
 \v(.'ll-to-do, we earned all we've u"ot. 
 
AIS' IXCIDE^sT OF IIUNTI N(iI)()N 
 
 FA IK. 
 
 A I.OST (FIIIJ). 
 
 It was wean'ni;* on to tlu'cc o'clock on tlif lir-r, 
 (lay (jf the fail*, and the ci'owd was at its lui-^lit. 
 At jv corner of tiie main l)nil(ling, wheri; the tlirnn^ 
 was thickest, stood a chiN' a nirl ol' sonic lour 
 snnnners, sohhin^", not loudlv or obtrnsivdv. \n\i 
 with her face hnried in her })inafore. '^I'lie piissci^- 
 l>y, intent noon their own pleasure, took no notice 
 of her, until a gannt, elderly man halted in from 
 of her with the query, "What are you ciyini;- for' 
 "For mama," sai<l the child raisini;' lier tear-stainci 
 face from behind her pinafore. "Don't you know 
 where she is?" "Xo," sobbed the little one, 'slu's 
 iioned away," and here her m-ief broke out afi'csli. 
 Attention being thus directed to the child. tli«; 
 standers-by grew interested. Among tliem wii-' 
 two young ladies in rather loud costume, '(hiess 
 slie's lost," remarked one of them. Want to 
 
AN IN< IDKNT 
 
 I'lry 
 
 ;iin\V ! (|U('I"I 
 
 fi 
 
 1 tl 
 
 If otIU'l 
 
 til 
 
 Ain't >ln' swct't 
 
 >'» 
 
 Sniiic; sliDiiM sMV licr niotlici" (Iniit know iniicli: 
 "iicli .1 lodkiii;^' Iwit." "\'»»ii iinLilitn't <ln iM-lhT, 
 
 Ktl 
 
 III' 
 
 I "I Im' sick it' I couldrrt. 
 
 Wrll. Uli;lfs 
 
 tl' 1)1' •loiic.'' ' askt'il tlic mail who tirst imticfil the 
 cliiM. 'lias umvImxI'/ seen }iiivIhm1\- Itinkinn* t'<»i" a 
 iittit' n'irl:'' XoImxIv IwkI, ami tlicii >ULmf>tiinis 
 
 ;i^ to what to (jo were Noliintccn'tl. 
 
 Ask Imr 
 
 name 
 
 «1SSV 
 
 was out' (> 
 
 t' tl 
 
 icm. 
 
 What 
 
 S \'oUr lUUIH' 
 
 R 
 
 oosc. 
 
 so 
 
 hltcd the chiM. "Ami whfi'c 
 
 nil \'ou li\(' 
 she live.'' 
 
 Witl 
 
 I mama. 
 
 Ami 
 
 Wlirli' (Iocs 
 
 At 1 
 
 lomr 
 
 That's not the wav to 
 
 !isk l.t'i'."' cxc'laimcil a ln-awny VDuni- man, wl 
 
 M >S»' 
 
 ii >\v 
 
 fst whispiT wonid startli' a horse, ami ln'mlln;;" 
 
 M'V her he askcil, "11 
 
 ow Mill mama, come 
 
 to tl 
 
 ic 
 
 fi 
 
 ithcr:'" 
 >•]' tear: 
 
 With me ami 'I'ohv 
 
 Is Tohv yoiir 
 
 Xo," said tlu^ child, smiling' through 
 
 Tol 
 
 )\' s a dear li 
 
 '} 
 
 alk to the fair 
 
 W 
 
 ittlc (1 
 
 .1 
 
 on 
 
 Did 
 
 mama 
 
 c s (ii'ovc in a wanon aui 
 
 What's the name 
 
 Tl 
 
 IC (lUCstioll w 
 
 Tohv too, ever so lonL!" ways."' 
 
 if the place you came fromT 
 
 I'L'yond the child, who sim])l\' shook her head. 
 
 "Don't hother her,"' interjecte'ii a lystandei-, "o-et 
 
 vour wam^ii am 
 
 1 di 
 
 )tl 
 
 e nKjtner will see liei 
 
 11 
 
 ri\'e her louni 
 h 
 
 1 tl 
 
 le ijriaiiii 
 
 1 and 
 
 can t M'vv We 
 
 Mv 1 
 
 loi'se 
 
 1 
 
 las 
 
 aid 
 
 LiOt 
 
 th 
 
 the man of the loud voic 
 the i;'orum, and I M'ant to watch tlu' sheep /lud^vs." 
 Well, take her home with yon: von'\e neither 
 diick nor child."' At this a laui^h rose, and s 
 tions as to what should he diaie, each mor 
 
 ue- 
 
 :es 
 

 (JLEAXKR TALES. 
 
 senseless and impracticable than another, ho^aii 
 a«i"ain. 1\) sen<l her to (Jralumiie as lost hai;ira"v 
 to seat lier in the centre ot* the Iiorsc-rino% at the 
 head of tlie show-liouse stairs, with the l)an<], or 
 auion<»* the t'ancv articles, whei-e her mother wouM 
 be sure to u'o, weie auionu' the more reasonahlc. 
 Kach one was clear that it was the duty of soiiu- 
 body else to exert themselves to find the mother, 
 .'ind each one was e(|ually clear he was not callci] 
 upon to undei'take the task. And so precious time 
 was slippino-, and what to do with the child jv- 
 mained undecided. At this juncture, a short ami 
 somewhat stout woman liroke thvoup;h the v'wvj: 
 "Hech, what's a' this about;' A lost bairn, sav vc' 
 Bending" o\er, she lifted the chiM, and sittini^' <l<)\vii 
 on a bench pressed her to her bosom. "My bounif 
 doo, and hae ye lost your mannnie ! Wha oclit 
 ve? ' The child, with staring; eyes, answered not 
 "You mio-ht as well speak Cireek," grindy remarked 
 the n'aunt man. "Eh, what's that! Do you think 
 slie disna understan the JMioHsh lanGf'ajxe^ Xa. 
 na, thae bonny blue een are no French. An lioe 
 did you lose yer njannuie, ni}' petf" "^bima L;avr 
 me penny to ij^et candy, and Toby I'an after other 
 doi;-, and I tried to catch Toby but he runned ;i 
 ioug- way and was bad, and — and — I couldn't 1in<l 
 man»a or Toby,' and the I'ecollection of her mis- 
 fortune I'enewed her m-ief. "Eh, ma wee bit la<Iv. 
 exclaime(l the ij;'0()d-hearted woman, as she clasjieti 
 the sobl)ing child moi'c closely, "l»ut hoo are we in 
 
AX IN'CIDEXT. 
 
 :i27 
 
 this tln'ciiiic to iiiid Toby or vcr niithor (.'itlier 
 llccli but liLT lu'tirt will 1)0 sail' for the loss o' ve 
 
 Will 
 
 iia some o 
 
 'e •••an''" and see i 
 
 1 
 
 It' 
 
 e eanna nu 
 
 ;i woman 
 
 look 
 
 ni 
 
 for 1 
 
 ler 
 
 1 
 
 >airn, ms 
 
 tead 
 
 o <•' 
 
 at u? 
 
 lil 
 
 there at us like so mony ^-omenls 
 •'If voull uive me ten cents I 11 
 
 !i"0. 
 
 said 
 
 apiii 
 
 'rfc 
 
 iioV 
 
 "Ha, ha, iiiv man, \'e'll hv n Conservative; va 
 want an office." 
 
 "There's the president," remarked one of the by- 
 
 ^taiid 
 
 ers. 
 
 What! yon black-a-vised mnr wi the bit red 
 
 il.l 
 
 ion: 
 
 H. 
 
 '}' 
 
 Mr I 
 
 raseec 
 
 lent; 
 
 m 
 
 le v'ont: i want 
 
 Vi.'V at.lvice 
 
 h 
 
 What s this; what's this:'" asked the presidcMit. 
 '.list a lost bairn, an hoo t(» fin the mother o'b 
 
 (liniia 
 
 k 
 
 en. 
 
 ■Couldn't be in bettei* hands," said the president. 
 
 "She micht be in waui", tho 1 say't mysell. JUit 
 that's no what I'm drivin at. Hoo am I to n'ct 
 W'V mither!"' 
 
 "Oh, that's not hard to do. Vnn have seen a 
 
 imb lose its mother, 1)U 
 
 th 
 
 it di<l 
 
 vou ever see 
 
 tl 
 
 le ewe 
 
 that failed to Hnd her:' ^'ou just sit wheri' vou 
 
 arc, an( 
 
 1 th 
 
 )tl 
 
 11 
 
 le motner will come aloni: 
 
 I 
 
 ve seen 
 
 tl 
 
 le ew 
 
 ie seek her bit lammie owrr 
 
 aiowe and lieui-h a.n iie\er fail to lind the wan- 
 it'i'er, but what could she do wn-c as iiutnv auld 
 lips tl 
 
 iranii'ini:' roun as arr 
 
 1 
 
 irrc 
 
 x 
 
 a, na; \rv 
 
 i.nii 
 
 iparisoii winna stan, Mr Prasee<lfnt. Jt-st ttll 
 
32N 
 
 (JLEAXK]{ TALKS. 
 
 inv wlwit I'm to (la(\ an no Ix' staiiin' tlici-r twirlin 
 \tv wliiskci-." 
 
 "I'll ti'll von what to do. Take the cliiM lioinr 
 with vo;"': she is tired and not tit to sta\- lien 
 loni^'c)-. The mother will he sui-e to come to tli<' 
 otHee, and I will know wliei'e to send her. I'll 
 take yonr addi'ess," and he pulled out liis note- 
 hook. 
 
 (dancinuf at t\\(' chihl. which ha<l i'alleii a-;|tc|i 
 on hei'hosoni, the woman kissed the ])eac(.'t'ul little 
 face, and replied, "that's i;nde advice. ICveryhoily 
 kens me. I'm Mrs ('ro\vdie, and I live on the 
 
 concession of Hinchinhrook, and it* ye wain 
 
 to ken mair ,o' nu^ ye can speer at that decent 
 mail, Mr Herdman. yonnei', wha lifts mv tnx'-- 
 and as oor wai;i:;iii will he j-eatly, I'll '^ani;' m-o. 
 Sae liude day to ve." 
 
 Tired with the day's fati^'ue and urief. the chiii! 
 did not wake mitil the wa^'oii halte<l at Mr- 
 Crowdie's door, when, seeinii' (jvervthinLi" new ;ni'l 
 sti'an^c, she crie*! n little foi' her mother, hut wa- 
 easily soothed, and, on supper appearini;', she ">>r- 
 i^ot her little sori-ows in satisfying' her appetite. 
 Tliouu'h Mrs Crowdie had much to do "in st ii 
 thine\s to richts. " as she tei'ined it, ahout the hoii>e. 
 and scolded the man-ser\ant foi* "thinkin mair o 
 what he saw at the fair than o' his wark. " she 
 found time to la\ish much attention on the w;iii* 
 so curiously lei't on h(>r hands, and heL;'uile(l th'' 
 smiles to hei* cheeks hy kindly arts. When it 
 
A\ ix(M1)f:\t 
 
 :^2n 
 
 t'i"<' twiiliii I 'Ji''''^''' '^'H'k, slic cYwA \\)V licr niotluM", ]>ut nc('r])r- 
 
 iii^- Mrs ('f(;\v(li('*s j^roiiii^c tliat 'she woiilil sec 
 hci" tlic iiioni," and tluit slic would "let poosliaclv 
 >l('("p witli lici-," sill' lisped licr ai-tlcss ])riiy('r at 
 hcr knee and, laid in IkmI, di-oppiMl into tin- land 
 (if Xod with Ir'I' arms around Mi's C'rowdics kii;' 
 Mack cat. 
 
 'lild llOIIIr 
 
 stay lit'iv 
 
 )ni{' to til'' 
 
 lier. l\\ 
 
 liis notr- 
 
 llcii a-dfc|i 
 U'ci'nj little 
 
 !']v('1'\-1h)i1\- 
 i\"(' on tlir 
 it* \'t' wain 
 Jiat dccfiii 
 
 ni\' taxes. 
 
 'j'ani'' hi Ml. 
 
 '1', tile cliiii! 
 L'd at .Mi-< 
 \'j; new aihl 
 (')•, luit \va^ 
 il;", sIh'- ''>ii'- 
 n- appetite. 
 ) "in s( ii 
 ) the li(ai>e. 
 sin niair ^> 
 wark."' she 
 n the waii* 
 \H'uiled tlie 
 When it 
 
 A XKKI'.OII I.ADDIK 
 
 hittle Koose was up 1>y times next mornini;', and 
 tliouii;ht it i^'rand fun to helj) Mi-s ('row<iie to milk, 
 til i'rvd the i)oultrv, and to (^ct hivakl'ast i'ea<l\'. 
 KvervthinLf was new to hei-, and eniox'eil with 
 such a zest as to show that it was her tirst ta^te 
 
 t' count r\' - lit*( 
 
 T(» k 
 
 T 
 
 <ee]) ner C()ni])an\ 
 
 M 
 
 rs 
 
 (V<)\V(li(3 had sent woi'd to her nei^'hhoi-s to let 
 tlieir son come and i)lav with hei\ and h\'-and-li\- 
 -lolnuiie made his a])peai*ance, and the two had a 
 I'are time of it. It was in the aftei'iioon, when, 
 tired with play, and to i-est and enjoy tlie ])ieees 
 Mis C^rowdie L;'a\'e each of them, they snun"L;led 
 'P hchind a clump of hushes in the oi'chard. 
 
 (K 
 
 \V1 
 
 len 
 
 1 
 
 m a man. 
 
 1 
 
 \()Ose 
 
 Jl! 1 
 
 ia\'e sui-ar on 
 
 h 
 
 ' hrcad like this all the time." 
 
 "When \'ouVe ;i man, will voii ha\e a hors( 
 
 '\'es: two (jf them and whisl:ei's too." 
 
 'And a farm like thisT 
 
 'A Ijiii'Lier farm than this, an' a hi'*' house an 
 
 a huii'ii'v, an' pii-'s an" sheei) an' lien.> 
 "And mav 1 come to see vou?" 
 
:VM) 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "You'll milk tlic* cows and iiiJik«; Ijuttor." 
 
 "Will it 1)«' long time 'fore you're a man:"" 
 
 "When I'm iirowed; tvv(j or three year: Im 
 six now." 
 
 "How do cows mak<' butter:'" 
 
 "My, (lout you know! It ain't tlie cows that 
 make the luitter, it's tlu; <^irls." 
 
 "And will yon show me when I'm bio:'' 
 
 "Yes, an lots o' thinij^s."' 
 
 "My nuima has no cows." 
 
 "Ain't she; Why, my dad has lots o' em ami 
 a bull, too." 
 
 "I'd l.te 'fraid. " 
 
 "(), vou are not a man like me. I could tiiv a 
 • •un an shoot a bear." 
 
 "Has (iod cows:'" 
 
 "Why, He makes em, an the liorses, an tlir 
 (depjiants, an everv thini"-. Don't vou !•() to Sali- 
 bath school.'' ' 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Mvl I went when littler than vou, an leaiiit 
 heaps <)' thini»s, an. <>ot raisins and candv ;it 
 ( 'hristnuis." 
 
 "VYithout a penny:'" 
 
 "(Jinnne i'or nothing." 
 
 "My." 
 
 "I was to liave sj^oke a ; *jce but got atVaid.' 
 
 "I wouldn't be tVaid." 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing; you're a i-irl." 
 
 Here the conference was In'oken by Johnni'-'s 
 
AN INCIDENT 
 
 ;}:U 
 
 ortl'iinic to show wIutu tlic <;;i'<>^ni(l lioirs \ivvt 
 house, and oft' he and his conipanioji ti'otted to a 
 remote stone-pile, and did not turn up till suppei* 
 time, when they burst in upon Mrs Crowdie with 
 the appetite of hawks, ami the ^^irl so full of the, 
 wonders slie had seen that her tonuuc never I'ested 
 
 When laid away for the; 
 
 until she became slee 
 
 py 
 
 iiinht, Mi's Crowdie sat in the i^athei-ini;- <^looni to 
 think over what she should do. The day had 
 [inssed without any one c(Mning to encpiire for a 
 
 lost i^irl, which veiy much surprised her. So far 
 as liei" own inclinations went, she would rather 
 noliody ever came, but she knciw that soniewhei**^ 
 a poor mother's heart was in a^ony over the loss, 
 and she resolved that, next njorning, after break- 
 fast she would drive to Huntino-don to lind out 
 if there had been anv ennuiries. 
 
 A SHADE OF MVSTEUV. 
 
 With man\^ iniunctions to Koose, that she was 
 to he a iji-uid bairn till she m)t back, an ncj ^o 
 iR'ai" the soos or the wall," Mrs Ci'owdic; next day 
 ln'took herself to the village, where she arrived 
 in due course and went tirst to the offic*^ of the 
 president to find out whether he had heaiMJ jiun'ht. 
 Kntering she spied through the net- work that 
 MH'niounted the counter a man in his shirt-sleeves" 
 lmnini>' over a desk writini;-, with his head turned 
 'iwiiv from lier. 
 

 CLKAN'KK TAI-KS. 
 
 H.'V 
 
 iium 
 
 X 
 
 () !'('SP()ll>^(' 
 
 "Wliar will I iind your iiwiister?" No rcspdn-M'. 
 
 '•Wliatiia ticket is this:'" as lun- eye liciv fell 
 
 OH a cai'<l liuiiL;' to tlic wiiT-iicttiiin", and slic ^jidt 
 
 (ait slowh' 
 
 Tm 
 
 s — IS — Mv- lirsv \)\\ 
 
 !• 
 
 I'lr, 
 
 I'V the look o' liini I slionld sav it is. Hcv, iiuin'" 
 Xo i'('S])()ns(', the man of tlio big li'd^vr calinK- 
 C'oiitiiniiiio" to wiitc. 
 
 "I^li, p'.iir cliicl ! ' cxclainicd Mi-s Crowdic, -lie 
 iiiauu liae a liai'd iiiaistcr or Itc dull o' licaiin.' 
 and slic tli<'reii[)on I'attliMl on tlic counter with 
 
 1 
 
 ler um 
 
 l.rell; 
 
 "()li, were \'ou wantini'' nie. Want to ])a\' voiir 
 cliui'di seat, eh:'" 
 
 "Wliat na kirk.'' St Andivw's, sav ve^ Xa.iin, 
 I dinna gano- there l)od! Vou dinna ikmm] to li.-nc 
 a seat in onv kirk, for there ai*e a' kin o' hndics 
 tliat ca" themselves ])i'eachers rinnin ahoot. Says I 
 to ane that pit maist impei'tinent ([uestions to iiu- 
 about m\' saul — an us Scotch folk diima sh 
 
 o\V ell 
 
 1 
 
 learts to e\-ei'\' 
 
 Jock 
 
 ant 
 
 1 T 
 
 M 
 
 \\n — .Mv man, \'e lu 
 
 me in mind o' a tin^-er-post, yv ])int the May y 
 diinia liann" ^'ou)•sel. ^'e see, 1 kent oclit • 
 
 lUn. 
 
 That 
 
 s a li'ood one 
 
 1 
 
 d 
 
 exclanncf 
 
 1 tl 
 
 le man ot 
 
 tl. 
 
 pc 
 
 n 
 
 ^s he rubbed his left arm. 
 
 "(Jin I had mv wav, thei'c wad ])e a riddle ai'ort 
 evei'V college dooi" to try the coofs wlia wail \\-<\'. 
 
 tl 
 
 leir 
 
 heid 
 
 s m a ])oopi 
 
 ])oop 
 
 it. I 1 
 
 cell () some c 
 
 hiickii 
 
 heads it wad hae thrown aside, 
 
AX INcihKN'l' 
 
 
 11 <)' licaiiii,' 
 •ouiitcr with 
 
 Vc' X;i,li;i. 
 nerd to liMVc 
 kin ()' lioilics 
 ;oot. Says I 
 
 'StioilS to lllf 
 
 mi show our 
 
 )ii;iii. ye ))i( 
 
 the wa\- \r 
 
 cent oclit ii' 
 
 Not p l»a<l idol. And what cjiii 1 (hi i'or vow! 
 
 Voull 
 
 want an nr<>an 
 
 Mt' an urpm! I'd snncr tryst a pai-ritch ])at. 
 
 It 
 
 s a mcM' 
 
 tl 
 
 iniL*" 
 
 t.) 1 
 
 lavr a 
 
 littl 
 
 (' music, an( 
 
 I tl 
 
 VdUll 
 
 l;' ladi 
 
 K's soon learn to }»Iay 
 
 can 
 
 Isc 1 
 
 hi 
 
 vcn ye noo. 
 
 iw 
 
 lorn 
 
 I saw \'t' at the sh 
 
 t. 
 
 hut \'(' canna hi 
 
 ow 
 
 \'(' canna iilaw iiiv Inu'. 
 
 It; 
 
 I 
 
 anr to sec your niaistcr." 
 What name:'" 
 Mv name's Mrs (^rowdie: kent 1>v her ncel 
 
 K)rs 
 
 that 
 
 P'^y 
 
 s as s 
 
 he 1 
 
 juys an is due \uu 
 
 ;is ane 
 
 lindv."' 
 
 Oh, ves, I have a memorandum. The hoss Ict't 
 Wdi'd vou were not to trouble vonrsrlf: it would 
 lie all riii'lit." 
 
 I'll 
 
 irano' name we nae sucn assuranc( 
 
 T 1 
 
 lax'c 
 
 miiie ane errand to see him and I wnll see liim."' 
 'We had a line show, Mrs Crcjwdie:'' 
 "Whaur's your maister.''" 
 "What did vou tliink of the' flowersT 
 "Whaur's yer maisterT 
 'Oh, it's the hoss vou want." 
 'Av, an I'll no (ranuf till I see him." 
 Calling a chubhy - faced lad, he sent him in 
 
 si'.'uch, and the desired d'entleman soon entered. 
 "And how are yon to-day, Mi's C'rowdie:'"' 
 ' 1 ve iiacthing to complain o' except o' sin an 
 
 i\ touch o' the rheumatics." 
 "And what can we do for you to-day?" 
 "Ve ken ^veel my errand, an I see hy yer man 
 
:]:U 
 
 (iLKANKIl TALKS. 
 
 yo'vc sonictlnn;^ yc dinna want to ti'll iiic WluiV 
 baii'ii is slic:'" 
 
 "We'll speak about that l)y-an(l-lty(*. ' 
 
 "VVtf'll speak aV)out it noo." 
 
 "Is till! little 'nrl well?" 
 
 "'I'lie lassie's weel an I'd be laith to pai't wi lici- 
 <li(I I no ken there are they wha hac a better 
 iMcht to liei-. Xoo, tell nie: what hae ve Icai'iinl 
 about her folks:'" 
 
 "There have l)een some enijuii'ies ; hei- ])(Mi|ilr 
 know that she is safe." 
 
 "Wha are they:' I'll <mnfr an see them." 
 
 "Thei'e's no need. You ^-o home and voull licav 
 from them." 
 
 A j^ood deal of convei'sation followecb but Mrs 
 Ci'owdie could li^et no particular information about 
 the parents, furtliei- than that they were satisticl 
 she was in safe hands, and tluy would call oi- seinl 
 for their child in a sliort time. P\)rced to \<r 
 satisiied with this, she I'eturned home, and when 
 lloose threw her arms round her neck in weleoiin'. 
 she could not forbear the seci'et wish that the 
 pai'cnts mii^'ht never come. There was sc^ne mys- 
 tery and she hoped that it might result thus. She 
 watched the child pattei'ing about during the aftei-- 
 noon, listened to her prattle, and helped to anuisc 
 her, and when the evening gathered, and the sun 
 set beyond the forest, leaving the clouds burninij: 
 in crimson and gold, she sat with her in her lap. 
 Something in the peaceful scene stirred up old 
 
AN IN<N)KN'T. 
 
 :]:\r, 
 
 intiiioiies, and, with tliiii and (|U}iv«'rinL,^ voice, the 
 nld woman bewail tlic 'I'-Wd psalm. 'I'o licr sur- 
 jirisctlic child chimed in, knowiiii; hoth the words 
 and the old world tune Mi's ( 'I'owdie sani;- tliem to. 
 Wha taui^dit ye that, ma dawtief" she asked, ms 
 rinishin^" tin; psalm, she hunted the child in clo><er 
 .iiihracc, tlic moisture "li'^t^'iiinii" in h.er c'V'cs. 
 Mama,"' said the chi'd. "She maun he a ^uid 
 woman, and a Presl)yterian, too." And (daspin^- 
 the child, Mrs Crowdie sat thiid<ini,^ in silence and 
 did not move int(^ the house until it i;re\\ chill, 
 when slie said "the hairn micht catch cauld."' 
 
 
 TH1-: .MVSTKltV IS Cl.KAUrj) II'. 
 
 The section of Hinchinhi-ook in which Mrs 
 (Vewdie lives is a very pleasant one to look Ujion; 
 rile landscape h(Mng relieved from monotony l»y 
 low knolls and ridi;es which }»reak tlie wide intei-- 
 vidcs. In the middle of September, the hush, that 
 inns as a strap^olino; and somewhat i'au^i;*e(l fringe 
 over the ridges, was still li^reen, with only here 
 and there a branch or tret^ whose brilliant re<t 
 tnivtold the comini; i^lory. The day was brioht 
 and warm, the sun's rays being chastened by the 
 taint smoky hazt^ that softened tlie distant fea- 
 tures of the landscape. Her work being over 
 nntil milkinir time came round, Mi\s Crowdie took 
 a seat by the open window and began knitting. 
 Her little charge had gone to watch a preposterous 
 

 f;i.i:.\.\i:i: iaijx 
 
 t»H 
 
 licii, wliicli, {iftcr IifiiiL;" L;'i\''ii up jis li;i\iiii;- tin- 
 ni>li('<| ^upjM'i' to a I'ox, liad jippcarcd tluit iiiniiiiiiM 
 
 ■Uxck 
 
 itli 
 
 tl 
 
 xMii;' With |(t\' oN'cr lln' solitarv cinckfii ili.i 
 
 lit; 
 
 •hick 
 
 1' 
 
 '!;• 
 
 ollowcil licr : tilt' vcllow liaii'N' little tliii 
 source <»r <l('liL;ht to tlic cliild. Wliile Mrs('r(t\v- 
 tlic's tliiLC'Ts 1M()\('(1 acti\'('Iy with the nceilles, Jni' 
 thoughts wci'c waiulcrinu^ away to the past. Th.' 
 adNfnt ol* the chiM had stiiTcd hci" nature ;iii.| 
 wakened iiieiiioi'ies, she kiiew not how, that ^Iw 
 liad stiile<l so loiiLi' a<xu that she tliouiiht thev \\( iv 
 dea«l. And to iinlj'"e hv liei" face, thp\ \\'ere n, t 
 pleasant nienioi'ies. (\isually raisin;^' her head, slit- 
 as astounded to see a woman standing' at tli' 
 ilooi" i)itentlv watcliinu" her 
 
 ^v 
 
 a coint 
 
 ly 
 
 Woinuii, 
 
 Ilea 
 
 tiy 
 
 (Iressei 
 
 "What's brocht voii lia(d<.:'" demanded Mrs(Vii\\- 
 die, lireakinii" silence, "1 told vou I was dune \vi' 
 vou: that u'in ve liad mad(.' ver hed, von could \\<' 
 
 •i- ■' 
 
 on it. 
 
 "( ), motlier !"' 
 
 "Xa, ve needna heuf; ii'in that useless man v 
 wad niai'ry in spite o' me, has failed to ])rovide fer 
 von, vou maun look for hell) anither nat«\" 
 
 "I have not come to he^'; we have made ends 
 meet so far." 
 
 "A}', l»y your wark. A fauchloss, smoetli- 
 tonirued haveril: hoo he threw a olamor owei' v-- 
 
 I 1 
 
 \en na. 
 
 'You are too sore on liim." 
 
 Ower sair! A useless beinir tliat wad talk ;in 
 
AN INCIDENT. 
 
 
 Mrs ( Vn\v- 
 is (luiic \\i' 
 I colli. I lie 
 
 1, Slliootll- 
 »l* (.)Wl.'l- V-' 
 
 tlic I'oniid tlic kiiitiv. nil «liU' oiivtliiiiL: l>ut wark. 
 To think that vc waii ])i"('t'rr sic iia aiir tn ntv anc 
 uiithtT, von uiiL-ratct'iil hussy. P)Ut its avr the 
 way: the hcst o' woiiicn Ljct the la\ ins </ nirn " 
 • It's not for nic to listen to sudi talk oi' my 
 jiusliand," sjiid tlic dannhtcr, coloring. 
 
 A honnv linsliand ! Mcrrv't vc. thinklii'-- lie 
 (•(luM lumL!' ni) his hat in niv honsr and soin on 
 
 til i 
 
 lilt'. Mycci'tic, 1 sorted him! ( JaiiL;' hack to yrr 
 
 liUsh 
 
 •and an wark vcr tin;L:'cr-nai!s alt* to make lip 
 for his laziness. \'o,; made your choice, an I m 
 ijuiie with haith yon an him." 
 Resentment strnjxj'led in the Itreast of the \'< mir 
 
 ?-».-> 
 
 \V( 
 
 )iiian with atfection: it was for a moment oidy 
 Ikt hettei* nature triumphed. 
 "I have not come, mother, to ask of vou any 
 
 tlllll! 
 
 but 
 
 }' 
 
 our love an( 
 
 r 
 
 "An what? asked the mothei-, in a xoice shrill 
 fruin suppressed emotion, "Did 1 no lu'stle yon in 
 liiv bosom an care for vou as dearer than mv life:' 
 When, ane by ane, your brithers an sist<'rs ^aed 
 iiwa an vou were left the ae lam oot o' the flock: 
 
 w 
 
 hen CJod in his provi(b'nce took your faither tu 
 Hinisel an I was left alane, it was vou that uied 
 me heart to wrastle wi' the warl, an I watched 
 'iwer you an thocht you wad be a prop to my aidd 
 Hi^e. Oh, hoo could ye have the heart to leave me:''' 
 
 "I k)ve vou better than I ever did, mother, but 
 you wouldn't think muedi j?f nje as a wife weio 
 
 1 tu 
 
 ^ay 
 
 I did 
 
 wroni^ ni niarryniii- 
 
 X3 
 
a:J8 
 
 <;i,EANKIl TALKS. 
 
 I: 
 
 
 "Aye, tlici't' it is; tin- slmtflin;L^ crcntun' wj lijs 
 sleek iiiJinneis tlwit cniii l)etween you »in iiie." 
 
 "Oh, mother, leave that ulone. I iiin sorrv t<» 
 ]]i\\v vexed you today. 1 never ineant to tn»ul»I.' 
 you, until you saw tit to sen<l for me or I thoiii^rht 
 you needed my help. " 
 
 "An what has brocht \{\ then:'" 
 
 "I've come for Ruth." 
 
 The old woman sank hack in her cliai)- in 
 spoechlos.s astonishment. At last she whisper«'(l, 
 "An she's your hairn! I thocht there was somc- 
 thirii^ ahoot hei- that was familiar to me: that 
 explains it a'. She's yerself ower again when ye 
 were a bit toddlei'. O that thau days were hack 
 again! An hoo did ye lose her;*" 
 
 "It's six years since I left you, mother, and my 
 heart wearied among the Yankees to see dear old 
 Huntingdon again. I watched the Oleanei- wlicn 
 the show w^as to be, and arran<iinor to be awav a 
 fortniorht I camcj with Ruth and staved with 
 cousin on the river. I saw you at the show, hut 
 you did not see me. In the crowd I lost Ruth. 
 I was here and there seekinjx for her, when a 
 man told me he had seen a little girl, dre.ssed likr 
 mine, in a wagon that drove towards the villa^fc. 
 I followed and found he was wrong. Thinkiiif,' 
 she had driven home with our friends, I hastened 
 to cousin's, but she was not there. What a m*;;ht 
 I spent! Next morning I went back to the show 
 grounds, and was struck duuib when the president 
 
AN IXCIUKNT 
 
 IV.V.) 
 
 tolil iiu' wIhto sho was. T cxpluimMl it all to l»im. 
 Me was very kind ami said if I would \vn\v it 
 HI liis liauds he would inananfe it: wIhmi vou raino 
 in lie would put you off for a day or two. Ij'i.st 
 iiil,^!jt Ih' sent mv word tliiu<jfs had worked well, 
 ;iM(i I was to j^o out to you myself. If tlieio 
 i^ any plot aV)uut it to lu-ini,^ "s to<^ether without 
 voiH' will, it's noue o' miue," and siid^zini: hefore 
 iur ni()t!\or she huried her head in her lap and 
 fti'pt 
 
 What Mrs Crowdic would have done: whether 
 iier resentment would have returned and she a^rain 
 lijive driven away her daujjfhter, (Jod alone kriows, 
 l>ut at this juncture the patter of little fe-'t was 
 iifiird ()n the i^allei-y and Ruth, with her pinafoni 
 full of t^olden-rod, came shoutin;^', "See what I luive 
 "ot." One irlance at the tearful face iinrai.sed to 
 m' hei*. and there was a irhid scream of "Mama." 
 
 (laspini; her child and grandchild in her arms, 
 ^.Irs Crowdie bn^ke down. 'It's the L')rd's wark; 
 rume save Himsel could hae hrocht us thus the- 
 ^ntlier, an I'se no fecht against His will. By a lost 
 child I've found my ain, an we'll never pairt. Ay, 
 iny bonny Ruth, I'm your grannie, and ye'll hide 
 we me, an help me tak care o' the hens an the tur- 
 key .<, and the lave." 
 
 And, 
 
 papa. 
 
 "Ill thole liim for your sake: maybe I have 
 ftranged him in my prejudices. We'll son for him." 
 "An Toby, too?" 
 
lUO 
 
 fiLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Tliat's cousin's dog, Rutli," said hoi' motlni' 
 sinilinL'^ in lior jo}^ 
 
 "Ay, Ruth," said Mrs Crowdie, "well fret tli«- 
 dowg- too, and we'll let byganes be byganes nu'l 
 begin a new life an ther'U no Ije a happier familv 
 in a' Hinchinbrook. Eh, hoo true's the Seviptti- in 
 mail- senses than ane, An a little child shall Icar, 
 them. Hech, but this'll no dae. There's the nock 
 ehappin five, an the coos are coniin up the lane, an 
 the fire's to kinle. Let's be steerin an get tin; 
 wark dune an then we'll hae supper ance uiair 
 theii'ither." 
 
 /'« 
 
>yo-Jlll»'S ;ii),i 
 
 THE SU:\IMEK OF SORKOW. 
 
 LOOKIXfJ Foil TifE BOOK. 
 
 a fi 
 
 \{}\' want to see tlio littK' buk I luivt':* An wh<i 
 iil<l vou al)OUt it? You'll do it iio liai'iii. Ma\-1)( 
 
 11 wont L!'<'t the cli 
 
 UU'V 
 
 It's not tln' likes (»f 
 
 vou 
 
 that should ha\(' it. ^'(.u^•<' di'ivcn tVnni Ifun- 
 
 li^'doi 
 
 1 on !)Ui'nose and sure 
 
 I 
 
 won 
 
 t d 
 
 isa))i)(> 
 
 I'l' 
 
 >int 
 
 :on. 
 
 I didn't ax vou to conif, ditl [ ? You'll 
 
 M' 
 
 111 
 
 t it. Y 
 1 
 
 IS, w 
 
 hat suits vou: huinu" out nil 
 
 tluU tt'lls how we poor Catholics were usci] in 
 Ireland. Honor hriirht, voull ])i'int cvci'v word 
 iif tlie little l)uk. Mavhe von would and in;i\ he 
 ynii wouldn't, hut it is not to cxeryhody 1 would 
 
 !Vt.' 
 
 ;oi] 
 
 rli 
 
 )t' 1 
 
 a reaninic ot mv pot)r news 
 
 ho( )1\ 
 
 an( 
 
 1, if 
 
 plaze, w<''ll say no more nhout that same. 
 
 ^^'t'" then, I miiflit tell vou what 1 saw mx-sclf 
 
 favor sheds. Did vou ever know anvhodv 
 
 seen a u'host like to talk ahont it;* 1 tries 
 
 riiit what I saw an<l heard, an thaidv nohodv 
 
 thai hrini^s me in miml ot. Come now. 111 tell 
 
 vmi a hetter shtoiy than ahout poor women and 
 
 tliilder a (h'in l»v the score of favor an sti'on*:- 
 
 ' i| 
 
:J42 
 
 c; LEAN Ell TALES. 
 
 men alayin aside tlioin too wake to git tliini a ciip 
 o' watliei*. An its a thiue storv, which is nioiv 
 than can be said about some you've prent<'<l 
 Wliin I wint to William Bowron to buy my Idt, 
 1 ]mid my money down fort in goold. He wi'ot<' 
 my ticket for the lot an' whin he hands it to ine. 
 says he, Now you've got a farrum, my man, youli 
 want a cow. Thrue for you, says I, I had always, 
 a cow in Ireland an my father afore mo. Con- 
 found it all, says he, then you must have one iii 
 Canada; I have a heifer that'll suit you. (Jitti)} 
 art' liis chaii*, he placed his stick across his buck 
 and hooked his elbows over it, an tuk me ml) 
 his yai'd, where he ptnnted to a beauty av a cr;i- 
 thur. How much? sa3's I. Three pounds, ."iays lif. 
 Done, says I, an' puttin my hand in my pocket J 
 pays him the money in his lisht. Sure the b;ist»: 
 wud have cost tin poun in Ireland. Confound it 
 all, says he, ye're a dacint fellow; come in an have 
 a bite to ate. An afther I had my dinner I start- 
 ed for my farm, adrivin my springer afoi'c iii^' 
 through the woods, feelin proud as Punch ovt-i 
 my bargain. It was not until I stood afore the 
 bit shanty I had Lfot raised, that the thought cauu' 
 on me all at once, that I had nothing to feed the 
 baste. Och, it takes an Irishman to jump befoiv 
 seciiiix where his feet will fall. Well, I held uiv 
 whisht, and my woman and her good motli«'r 
 conies out and falls admirin the baste. Tln'i'' 
 was only an<jtlier cow in the settlement; wan ohI'J 
 
THE SUMMER <W SORROW. 
 
 :u;] 
 
 Armstrorjf^ had. Sure, I cries, won't the nabors 
 be invjnng us! Tliiui Iwvo. lonj^' at'ore lis an wi<l- 
 out a I'our-footed baste, barrin pigs an dogs an 
 cats, an here, the tirsht month we come, we have 
 ;in iUiorant lieifer, new come in. "She's a. beautv, 
 re, ' says niv wife's mothei", "an as hke the wan 
 
 sill 
 
 ays my 
 
 I sould when I left the Quid Countluy (bad luck 
 to the day I left it) as a red wan can be like a 
 black: lave her to me, I'll look afther her." In- 
 deed an I will, says I, for if you don't she'll die, 
 for soi'i'a a bite hev I got for lier. An so it was, 
 the ould woman took charge and tended her as 
 if she had been her child, herd in her in the woods 
 iUi atakin her to the ci'eeks where she could get 
 a bellyful, a drivin her home against nightfall. 
 It divarted the ould woman, who had all the time 
 been lamenting laving Ireland, and sarved us, for 
 me wife an mysilf were workin hard in makin a 
 clearance to get in a few praties. It was on in 
 August that wan night the ould woiMan an the 
 c(jw did not come home. She'll hev lost her way, 
 snys my wife to me. Not at all, I tells lier, she 
 knows the woods as well by this time as ever she 
 "lid the bog of Dorroghmore. Thin, why's she not 
 here:* asks she. Och, she'll have shtrayed furder 
 tluui ordinar an davliii'ht has failed her. Niver 
 throubie yer mind: shell be here with the sun 
 
 tomorrow 
 
 was more consai"no( 
 
 1 tl 
 
 lari 
 
 I let 
 
 on, 
 
 but what could I do? It was dark an there was 
 
 110 use •••oin<r 
 
 look 
 
 m 
 
 I r 
 
 for h 
 
 tl 
 
 ler 111 tne woods wi<l a 
 
 h 
 
 1 
 
 
 I 
 
r> 
 
 ^i 
 
 GLEANEIl T.U.ES. 
 
 raixllc, scciir we luidiit wan. My \vit\' couldji't 
 l^et a wink o' sleep, an sot at the dooi". slioutiiii;- 
 \vliini\('i- slic tliou^lit slic lieard a rustlin in tin' 
 Imsli. Tlic (lay liroke an the snn clinibefl np niitil 
 lie wns lii^li enon^'li to look over tlie tree to]i^ 
 at ns an sav (Jood niornin, an nivir a siufn o' tin' 
 
 on 
 
 Id 
 
 woman or 
 
 tl 
 
 U! cow 
 
 \v 
 
 e wai 
 
 ted 
 
 an wjiUimI 
 
 ex[)ectin i\ei-y niini.'te to see liei", until I i^ot 
 afeai'd, an wint au tould the nearest nahoi-s. 
 
 Tl 
 
 ie\' wi 
 
 re eonsai-ned at tiie ne 
 
 ws an a^'reiM 
 
 1 it- 
 
 she did come ijack afoi'e, th.ev would waiii tlw 
 settlement an iverv man lack o' thim would (uiii 
 out next moi-nin to Ink. An they did: oeh lut 
 
 tl 
 
 ie]"e was a d'owd o\ 
 
 tl 
 
 lem, some wid liUns ;ii 
 
 1 
 
 some wid horns an some wi<l pitchforks. TIiciv 
 was u^rain awaitin to )>() shore, l»ut not a sow! n\' 
 mankind staved a\va\'. What s that vou sn\' ' 
 
 Thev'd he Ar 
 
 mii't 
 
 ■men ^ What ilse was thei- 
 
 the sittlemint then:* We didn't talk in thim (iay> 
 about what makes strife, hut lived as t'rindly a^ 
 nahoi's could, helpin wan another, an ni\'ei' as]:iii 
 what you were. Well, it was a line day, tho hot, 
 au air we started, watchin for foot tracks a.ii 
 
 •xpecti 
 
 diouti 
 
 1 
 
 ni an Mowni horns au iiruio" s 
 
 hot> 
 
 11 
 
 the ould woman would hastin tc us on heai'ii 
 
 Avhere we were 
 
 It 
 
 was luver 
 
 hit 
 
 O U>f 
 
 Hours wint hv an we thravelle<l miles on mili:> 
 an niver a sijjfu. Whin we found a track w«' soon 
 lost it, for the woods were cut up hy slues. Jt 
 
 w 
 
 as a<»rowin late whin a few o' us met to talk it 
 
THK srMMKii oy somiow 
 
 »)4- 
 
 i'»' coiiMii't 
 
 1". sllOlltilin- 
 
 tlin ill tlh' 
 
 i''l np 
 
 until 
 
 ■ tree 
 
 tojis 
 
 sjo'n ( 
 
 ' the 
 
 an wa 
 
 itt'd, 
 
 ntil I 
 
 ^ot 
 
 st na 
 
 K !l'S 
 
 ai;'r('( 
 
 .1 if 
 
 \\;\]]] 
 
 til.' 
 
 vould 
 
 lll'll 
 
 I: ocl. 
 
 l.ut 
 
 1 .l^Ulls 
 
 an 
 
 ks.' Tl 
 
 KTi' 
 
 ;. a sow 
 
 I . .1' 
 
 Vol! s 
 
 \y ' 
 
 s tliciv 
 
 ill 
 
 tliini (I 
 
 ays 
 
 friii<ll\ 
 
 ' a^ 
 
 \-(M- as 
 
 •;iii 
 
 r. tlio 1 
 
 lot, 
 
 tracks 
 
 a.ii 
 
 '', v-X )('(' 
 
 till 
 
 ui licaria 
 
 t ()' n 
 
 sr. 
 
 on mi 
 
 Ics 
 
 v wc soon 
 
 shies. 
 
 ]t 
 
 tt) ta k 
 
 it 
 
 ovci". "We've ufone nnrtli an ea'^t an wist," sa.vs 
 Sfiiii Foster, the ouMest settU'i" ov us all an ?i 
 k'uowledM'ahle man, 'an li.cvnt i'ouin] licr (>>• the 
 cow. Tliat shows me slie has crossnl tli 
 
 to the sontli an ii-one t( 
 
 ) wan Is 
 
 tl 
 
 le lines. 
 
 e swam}) 
 We 
 
 H^n'cetl to this rasonin an shtarted all' for tlu 
 >\vamp, which was as dirthy a puddle o' hla(d'i 
 Aathci- an Lrreeii skiim as there was in Amerikv 
 
 am was our o-iii(h> oi- we mii> 
 
 dit 
 
 av 
 
 •t'cn thi'vin 
 
 tl) crass it to this d 
 
 ^y 
 
 He knew whei'c it was 
 
 iiari'owest an l»v' cree])ini'" aloiiLi' fallen trees we 
 ivached the I'idij'e hevant. an hadn't iione half a 
 mile afore we- struck the i"oot])i'iiits of an ould 
 woman an a cow. How did I know it was the 
 tprints o\- an ould woman:' Mould yei' whisht 
 
 1 1(» 
 
 •i' 1 wont he atellin vou anv moi'e. it 
 
 wa- 
 
 Mcssin we < 
 
 lid. f 
 
 oi' it w.'id soon iie\' iteen too ( 
 
 dark 
 
 to have followed tin m uj). ! tell x'c, we f'orii'ot 
 
 ur 
 
 tired: 
 
 ness an hunLj'er, an huri'ied on m Lireat 
 
 M»irits, an in half an houi- Sam shout: 
 
 Tl 
 
 lere 
 
 li(,' is," a])oiiitin thi'oui;']i the ti'ees. 1 shout: 
 
 Wli 
 
 luroo an dasix'S aheail n them all an in a miint 
 i had the ould woman in mv arms ;in the cow a 
 lodkin on as innocint as if it had niver played 
 tliricks whin a calf. The s-aints he ]);-aised ye nre 
 imt kilt and deil, 1 cries, as 
 ^ure, thouii'h shi' was (mid 
 
 I 
 
 liui 
 
 her 
 
 lor 
 
 an wi'inklei 
 
 an 
 
 hint, 
 
 >lu- was the mother o' m\' darlin wife. \)v{\ f 
 wad hev been, says she, cryin wid joy, hut i'oi* 
 the crathur, an niver hen wakeil or hurie(h Wy 
 
34 G 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 I? 
 
 this time the rist o' the iiiin kein up an awl sat 
 down to 'near tlie ould woman's slitory. Hhv. toiiM 
 us liow, from the droutli, tlie cow found little tt» 
 pick and kept amovin on and on until she whs 
 Hounderinij^ in the swamp, an whin they j^ot on 
 solid land sonva the wan of thim knew where tliry 
 were. 'How did ye keep alive:" asks a man, "t'oi' 
 ye are spry and hearty." "I wunna tell ye," says 
 she. "Two days and two nij^-hts in the husli." 
 says another, "an you not hun;;i'y: it's a niys- 
 thei-y." "Mould yer whisht," says another, 'it's 
 a mirach' : there he good people in thim wutxls 
 as well as on the hills ov Ould Oireland." It wu- 
 _i;rowin late an there was no time for more talk 
 an we shtarted for home, an, hedad, the oiilil 
 woman hate us all wid the nind.)leness she tripped 
 thi-oUi«h the bush an over the lo^js. Whin we i^'ot 
 home, an glad my wife was when she hugged lur 
 ould mother, an the nabors left, I axed again how 
 she had kept Ijody an sowl so well together in the 
 bush. "I wvnuia tell ye," says she again, an ati 
 she wint to bed. I tould all to my wife an axol 
 lier to lind out, and by-and-bve she <^ot it as .i 
 U^reat savcret— the oidd woman sucked the cow 
 for food an pm'ticted hersilf from the cowld ov 
 the night by slee})ing aside her. 
 
 "Are you done, grandpa;*" 
 
 I turned, a girl stood behind us, having come 
 unnoticed, 
 
 "Yis, yis: what is it T' 
 
THE srMMEH OF SORIIOW. 
 
 ^47 
 
 "Supper is ready, and I've Iteon waiting ever 
 s(i l<)n<( to tell you." 
 
 "C'oirie/' said the old man to nie as he rose, "an 
 hiive a bite." 
 
 I followed and when after tea I rose to tak(^ 
 my horse for my homeward journey, my eyes 
 must have expressed what eourtesy kept my 
 tongue from again asking. "Och, the little buk, 
 is it. Well, I'll trust ye wid it." Leaving the 
 room he i-eturned with what looked like a grea.sy 
 and much handled pass-book. "Take care of it," 
 lie exclaimed with emotion, "an don't keep it 
 long." riacing it in my pocket we parte<l. 
 
 Ill''' coll It' 
 
 HOW THE liOOK WAS (iOT. 
 
 On retirinu" to mv loom that nijiht, I (examined 
 tlie book oiven me with such reluctanct* and read 
 every word of it before iroinii" to bed. I found it 
 to he the diary of an Irishman who had left his 
 country during the famine. In the ship on which 
 he embarked for Canada tvphus fever broke out 
 
 ft/ L 
 
 iind the incitlents of the hori'ors of tlu.' voyage 
 iind of the equal h(.»rrors of the (juarantine sheds 
 on hcino- landed at Orosse isle were descrilied with 
 a simplicity and directness that alternately moved 
 me to tears an<l tilled my bosom with indignation. 
 Xext day I set to work to copy the diary. On 
 eoiisideriniif the matter I saw it would be necessarv 
 t^) learn somewhat of the writer, who fie was, whe- 
 
») 
 
 IS 
 
 (;m:am:m talks. 
 
 tlit'i' lie snr\i\('(l tlic ])la'j,'U('. and if lie did, where 
 he was now. Tlic first dav I could I'ct awav fiom 
 diitv i'ound WW mi tlic I'oad to intri-\ icw tlic old 
 man a second tinir. ( )n rcstorinL;" to liini the liook 
 I t'XprcssiMl lVf('l\' ni\' iiidii-Miation at the conduct 
 ( t' th.c hnidlords, of the shi|)-ai;'ents, and of the 
 ijuai-antine ollieers, and my pity for those wlunii 
 ' cy o|)|)resse(|. My words seemetl to be mdooked 
 f< .i-.*^ 
 
 ••JJe^'oi'i-a," said the old man. "I didn't expict this 
 aft' ve. 1 tid<: \-e for wan that thouMit an\thinu- 
 Ifood enoULih for the likes of ns." 
 
 lv\])laininL;- my wish to ])nl>lis]i the diary 1 a.sk- 
 ed him to tell me w hat he knew ahoiit its wi'itcr. 
 
 'Sure he was m\' i:e\ v, an I will tell \e ;nvl 
 aliout him." 
 
 Thouiih it was mid-October the dav was warm 
 and the sun un])leasantly liot, and the old m;in >U!^- 
 j^'esteti we should i^'o to the orchai'd, whei'e he couM 
 tell me what he knew witluait interruption. It 
 proved a loiiL^' interv iew for I had many (piestion^ 
 to ask and tlu' substance of Ids statement, though 
 
 ow e'lve as an ni 
 
 trod 
 
 lie 
 
 not in his words. I will n 
 tion to tlie diaiy. 
 
 It Nvas in the vear i<S47 mvs(df and wife were 
 behind the house cuttiuLi' ha\'. 'Idiere was lie 
 mowiiii'-macliine those days: no, not e\'en a scx'tlie 
 could be used because of tlic stum})s, and we wen- 
 pickiiiLi' the locks of hav out atween the stones 
 and stumps with our liooks. It was a liot day 
 
Illi: SlilMKIl ol' soiiuow. 
 
 :\V.\ 
 
 ;m< 
 
 1 wo Iwid Ik'cii at 
 
 work since sunrise, so our 
 
 lijiclss were tii'cil mouiili, l»ut wi' couM not r<' t, 
 for tlu'rc was nnicli to <lo and we had no !< -p 
 ht'sidc ourst'lvcs. We wciT working" liard an<l !.» t, 
 wlicn a voice cauic ahint us tliat nuuJc us start. 
 ' Tnclc, wanna you look i-oun at nic'"' 
 
 « 
 
 There stood a L;'irl, with a hundle in hci" i'ii;'ht 
 hand. ]>v lier tii-ure vou ndnht sav she was 17 
 or tliereahout; hy her I'ace si'" was an old woman, 
 for the Itones were stickinu' o ^i .' the tiuht di'awn 
 
 ski 
 
 d 1 
 
 skni and ner skin was a 
 
 k 
 
 .;'(\\ i>re\', with l)lack 
 streaks above and l>el(AV <die vycs. My tii'st 
 tlioU'dit was the colleen was demented. 
 
 ■( Jod 
 
 save vou 
 
 kindly 
 
 vs I, "hut wh\' do von 
 
 niuiii; mo unc 
 
 le?' 
 
 1 
 
 am your 
 
 broti 
 
 ler s c 
 
 hild. 
 
 You miiiht has f knocked me down with a fea- 
 
 tl 
 
 ler 
 
 was so as ton is 
 
 bed. 
 
 'What; me brotlier Jeri'v/ 
 
 same, 
 
 d 
 
 mswers sue ni a waUe voiC( 
 
 k. 
 
 That 
 
 'Where is lie^' sliouts I, throwini^ down my 
 
 hook. "Lade me to hi 
 
 m. Niver a line ^\\^\ ],e 
 
 vUii 
 
 send to tell us he was lavint^^ Ireland, but web 
 he and his as the flowers in May to the lu'st I 
 
 havi 
 
 The crirl didn't stii': she seemed numbed and 
 
 dead like and answered in her hollow voice, "He'.s 
 (lead thim three weeks." 
 
 "God save us all," I shouted, "you are mad my 
 eolleen, aiid ye're niind's avvanderin<r. My brother 
 
850 
 
 (iLEANKK TAi.ES. 
 
 Jerry is in Ti-cland with liis wife jind tlie eliildcr, 
 and ye're luistaeii wlieii }'()U call me uncle." 
 
 "No, no," sIk; says to nie, "yere niy own uncle 
 foi" T axed at the house next to you. My inotlMT, 
 my father, my hrothers and sisters art^ wid tin' 
 saints in <;lory," and wid that she lifted hei- eyes 
 and crosses herself. 
 
 "When and where?' I shonte<l in despeivition. 
 
 "They died ov the ship favor, part are l)iuitMl 
 in the say and part at the favor sheds." 
 
 With those woi'ds the ti'uth of all she said 
 hurst on me and I sta^j^j^^ered, for my head swam. 
 an<J I had to throw myself down on the meadow, 
 but my wife rushed past and clasped the por^r 
 cliild in her arms, "I'll ])e mother to you. and, 
 (lod help us, it won't he on our account if the 
 tear o' sorrow come again to your eye." 
 
 The poor thing didn't respond as you nn'irlit 
 expect, hut sank on my wife's bosom and I()<dve<l 
 about with that stony stai-e of hers. My wilVs 
 h(^t tears w^ere raining on her face, wlun sIk* 
 whispered, "Wad ye give me a bite to cat?" 
 
 Then we saw it all. The ffiil was starvino;. I 
 caught her up in my arms — she was no heavier 
 than many a baby — a bag of bones — and I ran 
 with her to the house, crying to my wife to hurry 
 and get something ready. Had ye seen her look 
 at the food as my wife brought it out of the cel- 
 lar, with the eye of a wild beast, you would have 
 shivered. "Draw in," says J, "it's ccorse, but it 
 
THK SIMMER OF SoHlloW. 
 
 nr) I 
 
 i^ tli»' Ix'st wo liavo, av> tlK'n^'s |)l«*nty »iv it." 
 Is tli( mate for lne^' she asks (l()u)»ti'ul like. 
 
 ■Suntly," says I. 
 
 I liavM t put a tootli mark on mate for three 
 vt'iirs," savs she simple like. 
 
 T reache<l her a rih of cold hoiled pork and she 
 smiled for the tirst time, and sucked it as a child 
 (Iocs the oran<^e' it wants to have the taste of as 
 \i)n'j; as possihle. When she* had eat».'n as nnich 
 as my wife thouj,dit safe, she took and laid her 
 nn our own bed, an<l willino- slu' was, for she was 
 clean heat out, and went to sleep when her head 
 tonchwl the pillow. Then we had a talk. She 
 liiid come fj'om the fever sIhmIs and mij^ht i;ive 
 tJK! disease to the children, who had ucone herrv- 
 
 lnL^ so 
 
 I 
 
 uroes, as jiL^'ee*! on, ana met 
 
 1 
 
 il 
 
 'ts tl 
 
 )em, 
 
 telh 
 
 them of their new cousin from Iivland, who had 
 (• )ine tons sick, and takes them to stay with a 
 lU'ijdiho]- for the ni<^ht. Next mornini;- I oil' to 
 the hay before sunri.se and worke(l excited like 
 till the sun j^ot high an<l overpoweri!)^-, when I 
 says to myself, "I'll take a rest an<l go and .se(! 
 
 my 
 
 brother's child." She was sittin^r at the <loor 
 
 where the hops clustei'ed round her, and looked 
 auuther crathur. The fearsome i^lare of hunm*r 
 in the eye was gone and there was a glint of color 
 in the cheek as she rose to welcome me. "You 
 don't think me mad today, uncle;'" she asks me. 
 '(iod forgive me," says T, "for the word — . ' With 
 that she puts her hand over my moutli. Oh she 
 
•\r)2 
 
 (iLKANKi; TALKS. 
 
 wns tlic khuUv rratluir. Mud now tliat sli.- wun 
 clcnn Mini lV»'sli (li-cssc*! I coiiM see woiiM !„■ ;i 
 liaiidsdiiit' liiss wlicn tlicrc wns more iiintc on Iki- 
 Imuic.s. Mv \\ir»' liad lirt'ii Ii)nkin<'- I'oi' iii\' cniiiiii'' 
 jiikI liml tln' talilc sjdrad, and al't(i' w«' lia*! cntrn 
 we sat ai^ain in tlw sliadc at tli<' door and a^ I 
 smoked my l>il»e VAU'W told lici' story. It \\;is, 
 more tlic i)itv, a eonnn<»n cnonnh ont- in tliosc da\N. 
 
 Tlic Tailni-e ol' tlie })otatoes liad Iri't my iirotli.i- 
 unalile to <''<'t epjamli t'oi' Ins I'amilv to fat h; 
 alone i);iv the I'ent. ( )n the l»aek of the liuiii'vr 
 came siekness and wlicn thini-s lia<l u'ot to Ix- ;i>; 
 Itad as tlicy could, the aLicnt eomes i-ound aii'l 
 tells liim if lie would i;ive up his houldini;- and i;* 
 t<) Canathi tin; landlord would foi'u'ivc him the 
 I'eiit, pay the ])assaL>'e- money and a pound alicatl 
 on landini^ at Quehec. He took the oiler as lii> 
 nei'j:]d)ors did and went to Duhlin, wliere tluv 
 found a ship waitini^ foi- them. M'lu'y wei'e n^t 
 out of sii;ht of land when the fever broke out 
 and the children, one after another, took it, and 
 three «lied at sea. When (piarantine was reaelit'<l 
 thev were all sent ashore, and there tlie rest of 
 the children, savin<^ Ellen, died, with the fatii " 
 and mother. When the fever left her she ^\;l^ 
 put on V)oar(l a steamer for Montreal, and ^ot 
 soi*i*a a bite from tlie hour slie left until slif 
 landed, though it took the boat 8G hours. Faint 
 and sicdv she was hurried ashore and w hen she 
 made for the city a policeman turned her back 
 
rilK SIMMKIl (»K S(»U|{n\V 
 
 • ) 
 
 ry:\ 
 
 aii'l slit* sjit «l()\vn o!i tlu' wiuirt', Nvisliiii<«- t<» dif. 
 Hv Mnd liv a iiniii cninrs aloiiij' ami liv liis (lr»'»<s 
 she knew 1h' was a iiiiiiistrr. tlioiiuli ii«»t nl' (di** 
 
 >(t 
 
 it. Mr spoke to licr ami <li«' toM liiiii >[.!• 
 wimtcd to <j^('t to II. I', and showed my address on 
 ;i liit of pMpei' slie eairied in her liosoin. He reiid 
 it and sayii)!'" to follow him, led to a steamer I\'iii"' 
 ill the canal He sought out the eaiitaiii and. told 
 him t<» cake the >/\v\ and land her at Jieauhai'iiois, 
 iiml the eaptain |)romised he would to ohlioc. the 
 minister and refused the dollar he oHered. 'I'he 
 stiunj^er handed it to her with the words, "I must 
 leave you, for others are perishinn-,' and slipp(«d 
 fiway before she could thank him. That evenino' 
 she was landed at IJeauhariiois and when the 
 steamer left the wharf for the Cascades she felt 
 more lost than evei", for she heard nothing' lait 
 French, and not a woi'd she understood. She 
 spied a man puttini;- hags of flour in a cart with 
 a face that she thought was that of an ( )ld 
 Connti-ynian. She went up to him and he an-, 
 swered her in Knglish, or rather Scotch, for I 
 know him well: he lives near the Mi'adows. SI 
 
 told where she wanted to < 
 
 ''o. 
 
 V 
 
 oU 
 
 1 
 
 le 
 
 »e aiie o 
 
 thae emigrants," savs he, "an mav hae the fever 
 
 i ve had it," s; 
 
 ^y 
 
 K 
 
 len, 
 
 'an am \V( 
 
 11 
 
 aoain. 
 
 "Aye, but ye may give it to ith»'j folk." At this 
 a Frenchman came up to speak to the man and 
 
 on 
 
 seeing Ellen })ut his haii<l to his mouth and 
 drew back. " Louis," say< the Scotchman, '• tak 
 
 « 3 
 
354 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 tins lassie hame \vi you and nrivo her a niclits 
 iodgin." Louis shook his head. "I'll pay y(ju, 
 man,' shouted the Scotchman. "No, no," siii(l 
 Louis, making a sign of hoiror, "me not let Ixr 
 in my house." "You are a' o' ae kirk and suM 
 l)e kind to ane anither. Without replying, Louis 
 left. "Weel, lassie, gin they'll no gie you cover 
 in this town, ye maun gae wi me," and with that 
 he went into the tavern at the head of the wharf 
 and came back with some bread in his hand for 
 lier. He spread his horse V)lanket on the hairs 
 for her to sit on and off* they started. It was a 
 long" drive in the dark, for the horse walki^d every 
 step of the way, and Ellen fell asleep. On wak- 
 ing at the rumbling of the cart ceasing, she fouml 
 they were standing in a farm-yard. The ni^lii 
 was clear out cold, but she had not felt it, for 
 the Scotchman had tucked his +»ig coat aroun*! 
 Iier. He told her lie dare not take her to thf 
 house for fear of infectinof the children. Lioht- 
 \ucr a lantern he showed her to a corner of the 
 V)arn, where she lay down to sleep, while he went 
 to unvoke his horse. On wakinsf in the morniiii: 
 she stepped into the yard, where she found the 
 Scotchman unloading his cart. "I've been waitiii 
 for you," says he, "an dinna tak it unkind if 1 
 say you maun go at ance on yer way. Were my 
 naebors to hear o' ane wha has been sick o' tlie 
 fever bein here, my place wad be shunned. ' Put- 
 ting something to eat in her hand he bade her 
 
THE SUMMER OF SOHllOW. 
 
 .'i5 ') 
 
 follow liiin, and pointed out the road she was to 
 take for her uncles place, and by observing Ils 
 directions luid succeeded. 
 
 "An so there's only yirsilf left?' asks my wiif. 
 
 "Av our family," says slie, " l>ut unless he's 
 ilcad since I left, there's my cousin Gerald in tl.e 
 iV'ver sheds at (juarantine." 
 
 (i(M'ald was my sister's only child and I ha i 
 heard after her death he had gone to Maynootli 
 10 be a priest. 
 
 "Do you tell me my nepliew, tliat rode on my 
 knee the day I left Ireland, is in Canada? Why 
 (lid he not come wid you?' 
 
 Then slie explained: told us of what he ha I 
 lieen to the sick and <lyino- and how the d;iy 
 hefore she left he had been stricken himsell*. 
 She wanted to stay with hin>, l)ut he told her lo 
 hasten to her uncle and if h«i had a mind 1 e 
 might come and help him; .slie could do no gcx I 
 to stay. I jumps up. "Ill go," I cries, "and will 
 living him back wid me here safe and sound." 
 As I said tliat I caught my wife's eye so pleadii,^^ 
 like, not to go. But I did. I got my neighlxjjs 
 to look after my hay and off' I started ne.st 
 morning, bright and eai'ly, to catch tlie stage at 
 the Potash. When old Mr Oliver heard my ci- 
 rand, he told me to go back to my family, but 
 )iiy mind was made up. When my own brotli< r 
 was adying I was in comfort. I was determim I 
 iiiv nephew would not sutfer like him and uie <o 
 
• > 
 
 50 
 
 CLEAXi:!! TALKS. 
 
 near. When tlie sta^e came aloTii^ I junipod into 
 .1, seat an<l Ix't'oi'e daikeniiii'' I was in the citv. 
 All the talk there was alxjut the fever, and how 
 the poor creatni'es wei-e dyino' by the Imndi-cij in 
 
 the sheds at Point St Charle 
 
 hiVei'v 
 
 hod 
 
 V was 
 
 in moi'tal dread of infection and the police li;i(I 
 oi'ders to watch that nonr of the emii^rants ^dt 
 ])ast the wharves or ont of tlie sheds, hut some 
 did, and tliev were hunted down and takr-n hack. 
 I kept my whisht as to my eri-and and listened 
 in the bar-ro';in of the tavern to one stoiy after 
 anothei", that made the blood run cold to my 
 heart. After an eai'ly breakfast next day I left 
 the tavern and walked down to whei-e the steamer 
 sailed for Quebec. It wms a beautiful mornini; 
 and I tliought it the prettiest sight I had steii 
 for a long- time, tl>e blue i-iver sparkling in tlif 
 sun and the islands and the other shore lookini; 
 so fresh and i»;reen, with tlie blue mountains 1m - 
 vant. It was ooini*" to be a while l)ef(n"e the 
 steamer was ready, f<n* there was a pile of freight 
 to put on board, an<l I walkr'd up a V)it to Inok 
 round m<'. In turning the corner of a shed J sees 
 lying on the ground a young lad with a girl lean- 
 
 ino- over nun 
 
 h 
 
 I 
 
 W( 
 
 nt up 
 
 to tl 
 
 lem. 
 
 W 
 
 hats colli'' 
 
 over you, njy boy, that you be lyin on the ground' 
 asks I. Never a word from either, I went close 
 up and I sees his eyes closed and his face white 
 as death, with his head resting on the girl's la)i. 
 
 God 
 
 save us, w 
 
 hat 
 
 s wronii 
 
 N 
 
 ever a wor 
 
 'Tun 
 
THK srMMT:i? OK S()KI{()\V 
 
 a ^irl K'iui- 
 
 )e •jiTouiKr 
 
 1 .1( 
 
 'tl 
 
 () anythuiL!: tor von 
 
 f( 
 
 I says, phicini;' luy lian 1 
 
 (HI licr slionldf.T. She lit'tiMl up licr lioad that wa 
 
 h()\V(M 
 
 I <] 
 
 own on 
 
 tl 
 
 ic vounif mans, oh so s 
 
 ;lo\vh 
 
 ami lookcfl at me, her faci' wliit<' and sunk like. 
 No," she whispered, "he's adyin." "Dyin lik" 
 this in a (Mn'istiaii land," says I, "I will i^et help. ' 
 1 ran hack to where the crowd was and tould a 
 jKthcenian. "They'll he <'scaped inuLi'ivnits," sa}s 
 lie, "and must he sent l>ack, tln' villins," and o T 
 he comes witli me. I Iccl him to the jtlace an I 
 he Houi-ished his hii;' stick, shoutino", "What di\' 
 ye mean, comini^ amono- Christian people ai^iii 
 nrdei'sT I cauLiht his arm. "Don't touch them; 
 lit's dvin." I'or I lieard the I'attle in his throat. 
 We stood aside for a minute oi* so, there was a 
 ijiU'Lih' 5i>id a drawin up of the leus, and all was 
 i>\t'r. "Oh, mv l)rothei', my hrothei', hev vou died 
 at'ore me," moane*! the poor n'irl as slu» tiL»*ht« r 
 clutched hishodv. "Come wid m<'," I sai<l. stoo])inL' 
 ti\t'r and trying" to lift hei", "T am Irish like yer- 
 >ilf, and will spind my last dollai* if need ho to 
 Itiuy youi' hrothei". Lave him, and I will take 
 Vou where vou will find friends." I could not 
 
 loosen her liould on the hodv 
 
 Th 
 
 P 
 
 le Donceman 
 
 sai 
 
 d he would ifo for the audadance an<l left m 
 
 I sti'oke(l her hail", I talketl to hei" as if she ha I 
 I'ecn my ov.n daughter: I tried to coiiifort hei-. 
 
 X 
 
 ever a sii»n oj* a wore 
 
 1'l 
 
 i;'re was a soun< 
 
 1 of 
 
 wheels and 1 looked and saw the and»ulanee 
 
 Tl 
 
 le men cam<' an< 
 
 1 1 
 
 i'ras])e« 
 
 l^ 
 
 \ the M'ii'l to lift h( r 
 
,*^')8 
 
 riF.EANEU TALES. 
 
 o!}' the corpse. I cjiughfc a look at her face— 
 slie was (lead too. The ambulance men said that 
 was nothing, that fever patients dropped drad 
 e\«'ry day without a sign. I looked at the pool- 
 er »lleen as 1 lielped to lift her into the amhulanct' 
 I't'side her brother's corpse, and I knew it was 
 not of the fever alone she had died, but of a 
 broken heart. Och, och, to come to Ameriky to 
 (lie on the ({Uay. "Drive to the ciniitry," says 
 J, "and I will pay all expinses," trying to get up 
 beside the driver. "Have you lost your sinses," 
 says he, "they wad not bury them in the ciuiitiy: 
 they go to Point St Charles, and if yer wise ye II 
 tell nolmdy you bundled faver patients and yo 
 al)out your business. VVid that he ci'acks liis 
 A\ hip, and rattles afi' at a great rate. "Well, well, " 
 ] said to myself, at ony rate they will be unite<l 
 1!! burial as they were in life and death," and 
 tbev i' st, in the Held where a bior stone tells nioif 
 than AijO were buried. 1 tui-ned with a heavy 
 lieart to the steamer, which was ringing a warn- 
 ing bell to get on lujard and lying down on a 
 pile of bags fell asleep. Jt was afternoon when 
 I awoke and soon after we were at Three Rivers, 
 where I went ashore and m)t somethin;*' to eat. 
 When we had left it a while a steamer hove in 
 sight, coming up the rivei*. We crowded t » stc 
 ] er in passing. It was a sight that sunk like a 
 stone on my heart. Her lower deck was chuck 
 full of women and childer and men, all in rags, 
 
THE SUMMER OF SORROW. 
 
 859 
 
 and with faces as sharp as liatchets from starva- 
 tion, and most all of them white or yellow from 
 tiie fever. She passed between us and tlie wind 
 and the smell was awful. A sailor told me steam- 
 hoats passed every day like lier on their way from 
 (piarantine, and never a one reached Montreal 
 without a row of corpses on her upper deck for 
 liurial and a lot of sick t(3 be carried to Point 
 St (yliarles 
 
 It was late in the nii:^ht when we tied up at 
 Quebec and I took the first lodging-house I found. 
 When I paid the landlord next morning, I nsked 
 him how I would get to Grosse Isle. "Ye're jokin 
 you are," says he, "people h>ve it, they don't go 
 to it.*' I tould him my errand. ^Says he, "(lo 
 home, it's no use; your nevy is dead by this time, 
 an if lie isn't he'll be dead ony way. T^'U be the 
 (k'ath of yoursel to go." No, .says I, I 'iav< oome 
 awl the way from Huntingdon to ^ive the boy 
 and I wunna no back widout him. Wliln he see 
 I was detarmined he tol me how hard 't was 
 to get to the island; tli.c the city people were 
 afraid of the infection and watched everybtuly 
 uoinjx and wcnild let none come from there. He 
 pointed to the landing stage where the <juarantine 
 steamboat lay and I went to it There was a 
 sentry at the end and wh.en I made to pass him 
 he ordered me back. "I'm going to quarantine," 
 says I. "The divil ye ^»e: shtand back; ye can't 
 pass widout an order." I was pleadin wid him 
 
 
.SGO 
 
 (i I. KANE II TALKS. 
 
 to let TiK* ])y wliiii a voiec' Ix/liiiid says, "Wluit i> 
 nil this loud talk ahout:'" I turns and s<'(*s a tal 
 
 yian in l)laek, sti'aiLiht as a hickoi'v 
 
 V 
 
 tT n\ 
 
 rincc, this man wants to i^o to (|uara,ntin(' and li; 
 
 no permit. 
 
 My 
 
 iroou man, 
 
 say 
 
 s he to me 
 
 'Vnli 
 
 rti'e se«d\inL^ to rush into danL'"er if not certain 
 
 death. The seid.r\' d 
 
 ( )( 's a 
 
 kind 
 
 ness in turnini 
 
 \'oU. 
 
 "I have a n-ood raison l'(»r wanting' to <••<)." 
 "It would neecl to Im- in riskiuL^ your litV an<l 
 eiidanu'erini'- the sat'etv of the eonnnunitv l»v hrin^- 
 iiii*' haek infection. What may he your leason' 
 1 saw he was a i^a'utleman and his kind xoic' 
 won m(}. 1 told him all. 
 
 VVl 
 
 hit is your ne])hew s nana 
 
 <^r 1 
 
 derald ()'C\)jnioi-." 
 Has he heen stricken! 'rhcy di<l not tell iii« 
 
 when I was last ther 
 
 lie has heen one of oui' 
 
 hest helpei's. His only hope lies in instant removal 
 
 l1( 
 
 h 
 
 for th 
 
 oj\ convalesence and since you nave come 
 pni'pose, I shall see you have oppoi"tunity. ' 
 
 With that he says to the sentry, "This man i^ 
 my assistant today," and ])uttin<jf his ai'm in mint 
 
 to the hoat, wherc^ even the deck 
 
 1 
 
 le \va 
 
 Ik? 
 
 me on 
 
 liands saluted him When he walked aw.iv with 
 the captain, I axed who he was. "Datam Bi>h<'j) 
 
 M 
 
 ouniani, 
 
 1 
 
 says a r i-encnman 
 
 Bedad," says I 
 
 they shpoiled a tine cavalryman when they mad< 
 
 a pi 
 
 •1 
 
 reacner ov nnn 
 
 T 
 
 The order was <>iven to cast oti' and on we went, 
 
Till-: sr.MMKIl OK SOlJHoW 
 
 .•»(> 
 
 n vvc wnit, 
 
 tilt' river smooth ns a luillpond. WIkmi ji loni;' 
 way off' we could sec rows ot* wliitc tents ;ui<l loni^ 
 wooden slu'ds wlicie the sick hiv on (Jrosse ish', 
 iiiid ort' the landini;' we found jincdjored 17 ships 
 that had eonie tVoin Ireland oi* Li\'ei"])ool and had 
 fcM'i' alxjard. The whai't* was a poor one and we had 
 trouhle i^ettini^ ashoi-e, for the steps were rotten 
 imd hi'oken. The ^-entlenian they called the hisho]> 
 lii't'koned nie to follow him as he walked oi), speak- 
 ing- with the friends who came to meet him. When 
 
 e i;()inn' in at the 
 
 in front of the first she<l, hcfor 
 'iooi', he savs to me, "l)r Hussdl will take vot; to 
 your nephew," and with a how he ])assed itito the 
 >lit'd. I followed tlie doetoi' to another shed an<l, 
 licuN'ens! when we went in the smell niyh knocked 
 luf down. The doctoi* nuist hav<' s<>en somethini^ 
 in my face, for he says, "Xevei- mind, my man, 
 
 Vou'l] soon Li'et used to it. 
 
 \V 
 
 1 
 
 )asse( 
 
 I al 
 
 on*'" he- 
 
 tween two rows of l»ei'ths, eveiyone filled, and an 
 i»(l(l man, hei'e an<l thei'e, trying' to attend to theii- 
 wants. Tile doctor stopped hefoi'e a herth where 
 lav a younii' man, with thick hlack hair. Sei/in<'' 
 liis aiMu he f(dt his pulse. "This is youi* man," 
 says he. I looks at the worn face' and with a trim- 
 Me in my voice 1 could not kee[) hack, I asks, "Is 
 lie ahle to <4'0 away wid me''" 
 
 "He 11 ijfo to his o'rave in a few hours," savs h«\ 
 ' Doctoi", deal", don't sav that: von can sa\'e him. 
 1 11 pay you well, if 1 ha\ c to mort<.;a^e my farm 
 
 Lo ii'e 
 
 t tl 
 
 le mont 
 
 y 
 
362 
 
 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Tliore is no savinf]^ of him, poor fellow: he's 
 going as many like him are going," and with tliat 
 the doctor moved away. 
 
 I knelt beside my nephew and put my hand on 
 his forehead. It was burning hot. His lips wen- 
 going and he was muttering soukefching, what 1 
 could not make out. "Gerald, won't you spukc: 
 I'm your uncle come to take y(ju home wid me. ' 
 Never a woi'd. I went over to one of the men in 
 charge and he pointed where the water was. j 
 filled a noggin and pressed it to my nephew's lips 
 and wet his face. I watched by him for wliat 
 seemed a lono- while and saw others die and heard 
 the groans of those in pain and the screams of 
 those that were raving, and the Ijeseechings for 
 "water to drink. 1 attended to those near hy us 
 well as I could, and it was when I was connn^ 
 back with a pail of water I noticed the flush had 
 left my nephew's face. I was bathing his fore- 
 liead when he opened his eyes and stared at me. 
 "I'm your uncle, me poor boy; you feel betterT 
 
 "May (}od bless you," says he, "but what made 
 you come to this fearful place?" 
 
 " Sure its nothing; its little to do for my own 
 sister's child." 
 
 He sijuazed my hand and closed his eyes and I 
 knew he was praying for me. 
 
 "Bring me a priest." 
 
 A man that was passing told me Id fin<i one in 
 the next shed. It was worse than the one I left, 
 
 !| 
 
THE SUMMEK OF SOIUIOW. 
 
 m:\ 
 
 fur it had one njw over the other of hertlis. At 
 the far end I saw a priest, and found he vvas 
 givint^ the hist rites to an ouhl man, whose white 
 hair was matted with dii't. I waited till he was 
 <l()ne and asked the father to come with me. I 
 lift (ierald and him alone, and the priest had no 
 sooner said the last prayer than there was a mes- 
 sage for him to <jfo to another poor soul for whom 
 tlure was no hope. When (Jerald saw me, he said, 
 dt'spairin' like, "Take me out o' here; ye can carry 
 \nv. I want to die in Ciod's free air." These were 
 his very words. 
 
 "That I will," says I, "and you'll be home wid 
 me in Huntinj^^don afore three days." He smiled 
 a sorrowful smile, and said nothing'. I lifted him 
 ill my arms and cari'ied him out of the shed. I 
 was powerful strong when I was young, and tho' 
 he vvas tall and hroad-shouthered he was wast- 
 *'<1 to skin and bone. I laid him down in the 
 shade of a tree, for the sun was hot. He didn't 
 look at the rivei* or the Idlls beyant, l»ut fixed his 
 eyes on a spot that 1 took to be a burying-plae<'. 
 "<J<) back," he whispered, "and bring the bag below 
 my l)erth." I went, and found a woman had al- 
 ready been put in the poor bed I had lifted him 
 out of. I reache<l foi* the ba<>' and took it to him. 
 Pointing to a spot in the burying-place he told 
 me to o() thei-e and 1 vvould see a orave with a 
 cross at its head and the name Aileen cut on it. 
 "Vou can read.''" "Yes," says I. I did his bidding 
 
 I !l 
 
:]i'A 
 
 (jF,K.\\i:i{ T.\r,E^. 
 
 ami couiini;' Imok told liiiii I liiul rnund tlic h'jmnc. 
 "Promise mo, vou 1! lnir\' mr Itcsidr that uravc' 
 I |)i'()!iiis(M| liiiii. "OjX'ii tln' l>Mi^ jiiid you'll timl 
 
 in it n little liook 
 
 I I'cficlit'd it to him. "T;ik 
 
 it, savs h< 
 
 t] 
 
 iciT nrc 
 
 pJlLi' 
 
 cs in I 
 
 t I 
 
 won 
 
 Id t 
 
 fill' iiiit 
 
 VV( 
 
 ■re I nhl)'. lict it 
 
 JJ'O. 
 
 Save the Itook: it w ill 
 
 tell to those now iiiihoi'ii what li'ish nu'ii and 
 
 W (I- 
 
 iiien have suftei-ed ni 
 
 ft; 
 
 tl 
 
 ns summer of soitow 
 
 II 
 
 e W 
 
 as wake a,nd elosed hi 
 
 s e\'es. 
 
 Js tl 
 
 II'IV 
 
 an 
 
 ythini;- 
 
 moi'e 
 
 I 
 
 can ( 
 
 i.> r 
 
 ()»• vees: 
 
 as 
 
 ks I. '-Nntli 
 
 Iiil;', uncle deai-; the suiimier hj-ee/e is sweet. 
 
 \l 
 
 never said another rational woi'd, I'oi* the fe\er set 
 
 in a<oiin and he hcLfan to I'av 
 
 He talke<l a'^ if 
 
 h 
 
 le wei'e on slnp ai^oun and then he won 
 
 th 
 
 lid cl 
 
 laiiLi't' 
 
 to ould Ireland and h<' wiaild he aplayin with lii^ 
 comi'ades, and his lauiihini*" was soi'c to heai\ TImii 
 there came a lon^' while when he was (|uiet, in>t 
 
 tossini^ mieasy like at times as he slept. My eyes 
 wei'e on th<' river and the ships and the eiceii 
 fields hriii'ht heyant, when [ liears Idm whisper, 
 "Mother, deal", have ye heen Ioiil;" waiting" heie tor 
 your hoyi'" and he spoke to lu^r tender and sdt't 
 
 as lie must have done nian^'s the time in (»uM 
 Ircdand. Then it was Aileen he saw, and it w.i^ 
 true lover talk. Oh. it was all so heautiful: tlif 
 ])()<»r hov dviii!"' there of the fever on the rivtr 
 l)ank talkin so sweet and lovini^ with the two 
 women who had tilled his heart, an its the lot "i 
 love a true Irisliman's heart can hould. I was 
 
 o 
 
 rippiiie" his hand, watching him, when all at owcv 
 
THK sr.MMi:i; MK S(»|{lt(>\\ 
 
 :u 
 
 ti} 
 
 liis Jaw fell jukI ! saw tlic soul lind tied. I luiil 
 hiiii (Hit as I licst could, and idlliii;^ tlir Mjiidsct 
 iKUiui liiiii liFtt'd tin* corpse on my shoulder and 
 cairicd it to tlic spot In- told nic Tlirrc wri-e 
 slin\('ls and picks in plenty and I set myself to 
 .lii;' the inrave. The smell of the fresh earth 
 lnon^ht ItMck to me my own family and fjirm that 
 I had clean forgot that drea<lfnl dnv. and I de- 
 
 tiriiiine(l to lie hack with them at one 
 
 Tl 
 
 lere 
 
 were men at woi'k near me tinishin;^' a lonn' tiench. 
 ;ni<l 1 saw tliem watchiuL;' me a!ul I watched them 
 and listenecl to their talk. Tlu^ sun was low hefore 
 till' ofrave was tinishe(l to mv likino-. Theie was 
 no use ti'vin;^- to njj'et a priest, the}- had enou^ti to 
 do with the dx'inji- without l)ur\'in<^ the dead, so I 
 laid the coi-pse carefully in the ^j-ave, said a pray<'i' 
 and filled it in. 1 drove in a ce(lai- picket to maik 
 the spot, for 1 meant some day to put a headstone 
 theiv, but I never did, for 1 was never ahle to j^o 
 I'fiek. W]i<;n all was done I went over to one of 
 the men who had been diiii'ini'' the tiench that I 
 had seen by his talk was an Irishman. }\v was 
 smoking his pipe with tlie lave, who wei'e waitini;- 
 for tlie burial. I got liim by liimself and tohl 
 
 mn my errand on tue is 
 
 I 
 
 th 
 
 dand 
 
 d 
 
 and now 
 
 1 
 
 was doiM 
 
 I wanted away at once. That's not easy, he said. 
 
 Is to prevent any coming' on or 
 
 here were liuarc 
 
 leaving the islan<l except by the steamer and with 
 rt permit. "Sure," 1 says, "if I stay here till to- 
 
 morrow 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 ^}' 
 
 1 
 
 )e a ( 
 
 lead 
 
 man. 
 
 That 
 
 y 
 
 OU WJl