IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

11.25

»£

uitt

"^ 136 '

2.2

2.0

llllim

1.4 mil 1.6

^>>

Hiotographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

'^^
^

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notas tachniquat at bibliographiquas

Tha Instituta hat attemptad to obtain tha baat
original copy availabia for filming. Faaturaa of this
copy which may ba bibliographically unique,
which may altar any of tha image* in the
reproduction, or which may tignificantly change
the usual method of filming, are checited below.

Coloured covars/
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagia

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurAe et/ou pelliculAe

□ Cover title missing/
Le

titre do couverture manque

I I Coloured maps/

Cartes gAographiques en couleur

Coloured Ink (i.e. other than blue or blacit)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
RaliA avac d'autres documents

Tight binding may causa shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La raliure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion la long de la marge intirieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within tha text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certainas pages blanches ajoutAes
lors d'una restauration apparaissant dans la taxte.
mats, lorsqua cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6tA filmies.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires supplAmantaires;

L'Institut a microfilm* le meilleur exemplaira
qu'il lui a At* poaaibia da se procurer. Les details
da cet exemplaira qui sont peut-Atre uniques du
point de vue bibiiographlqua, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la mAthoda normale de filmage
sont indiqute ci-dessous.

[~n Coloured pages/

The
to tt

Pages de couleur

□ Pages damaged/
Pages endommag^kas

I I Pages restored and/or laminated/

Pages restaurAes et/ou pelliculAes

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages dAcolor6es, tachaties ou piquAes

The
posa
of th
film!

Orig
begi
the I
sion
othe
first
sion
or III

□ Pages detached/
Pages d6tach6es

Showthrough/
Transparence

□ Quality of print varies/
Qualiti inAgala de I'impression

r~~1 Includes supplementary material/

Comprend du materiel supplimantaire

Only edition available/
Seule Mition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been ref limed to
ensure the best oossible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont M filmies ^ nouveau de fa^on A
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

The
shall
TINl
whi(

Map
diffe
entii
begi
right
requ
met!

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est filmA au taux de reduction indiquA ci-dessous.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

^^■■■H

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

ire

i«tails
M du
modifier
er une
Pilmage

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanlts
to the generosity of:

National Library of Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keepinc with the
filming contract specifications.

L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grflce A la
g6n6roeit6 de:

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada

Las images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettet6 de l'exemplaire filmi, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

les

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprim^e sorit fiimis en commengant
par le piremier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmia en commenpant par la
premiere page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol — ^ (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END "),
whichever applies.

Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole -^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbole V signifie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peu«/ent dtre
film6s i des taux de reduction diff6rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir
de ''angle supdrieur gauche, de gauche A droite,
et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les di^grammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

errata
J to

B pelure,
ion A

32X

0»l^-'

}

/An

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.

/At

1 .

.;5^

(i LEANER TALES

i;v

ROHEKT SELLAK

HlNTINCiDON. Q.
3895

Ml '^ ^^

|H ity of

H| of

^K StaU's

^H pa^^eH

^H name

|H most <

^H the bo

^B^idca o

BKthat (»1

^K inlep —

^^ in its ]

■%

^ brif'fei

1 of <'jir

Entered aoc-ordiiiK to act of parliament of C'anadu, in

the year 18!>.% by Hobert Sellai". at the

Doptirtment of At^ritnilture.

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.

^^^)

)

l«i.

IfKML
Altrn
TUK >
Amnki

M A Sk'

.IKANI
I .( )ST
Ax l>
Thk .^

XOTK

<'<)Xti:nts.

IfKMI.iMK

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

XOTK - - . .

i'A«:K

-0.'»
22")
23(1
254
200
318
:]24
.i4l

4r)f>

(

I •:

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

(

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

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

! ( '

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.

: 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

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

HEMLOCK.

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-

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.

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

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.

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

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

(;m:anku taf^ks.

I I

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

()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

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.

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

GLEANER TALES.

I'M

hi::

i !

I I '

'li„4i

I i

1 !

'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"

GLEANER TALES.

\i i

j '!'S

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.

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

GLEANER TALES.

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."

(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."

(a.EANKU TALES.

"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.

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.

It wjis so <lrci(l<'(l upon, Riid while tlicy pickcil

WW wj

to tl

ic wrs

t, I

crriLfo l»usi('(

.1 I

inns(

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

'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.

"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

.*]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-

HEMLOCK.

(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

!:.

GLEANER TALES.

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.

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.

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

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

GLEANER TALES.

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.

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

(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.

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

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.

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

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

GLEANER TALES.

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.

"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

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.

'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

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.

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.

..,■;^.„

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'

HEMLOCK.

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."

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.

"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

.")()

(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.

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

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.

"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

GLEANER TALES,

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.

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.

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

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.

"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

GLEANER TALES.

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.

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."

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>-

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

»('

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,

anina un(

lerstan. Tl

ley say tneir (<mcer

wasna kilt in regular coorse o' war. The botl\ was

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.

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."

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

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

(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.

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

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

HEMLOCK.

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

(JLKANEK TAr.KS.

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)

i/.

1.0

I.I

■^B^ 12.5

|iO ^^" ■■■I

U£ 1^ 12.2

2: «fi IIIIIM

1.8

1.25 i 1.4

- 6"

%> > .^ ^1

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80

(716) 872-4S03

(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)

•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."

,?<'

(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

(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.

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.

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

!•'

■:^'-

(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-

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.

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.

.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

OLEANER TALES.

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.

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.

'•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

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;

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

100

rir.EAXKll TAF-ES.

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

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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'

14G

CiLEAXER TALES.

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''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

HLML()( K.

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."

(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.

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-)

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-

^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?"

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.

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

(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

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.

..^...

'^1

'%J^

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1^128 |2.5
KS Bi 122

r l& 12.0

L25 ■ 1.4

1.8

1.6

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

€^

.^v

^x.

^^ ^

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 873-4503

.<^

t/.

,<r^

.6>

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

ISO

ca.KANEH TALKS.

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?"

Irt2

fJLEAN'EK TALES.

"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.

"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

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*

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.

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.

CHAPTER XV.

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

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

104

OLEANEK TALES.

It r

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

cH' a liappy coiipli' cvrrylxuly knew, and tlirir
(Ifsccndaiits ai'c aiiioii^; tlu; most proniiiiriit sultj»'ct^
of the J)()Mnni(>n.

(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

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.

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

210

GLEANER TALES.

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

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.

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.

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-

220

OLEANEIl TALES.

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."

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

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'

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

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

'Oft

en.

sne remarkr*

"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-

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,

•eo-nnnnuf a

t a 1(

)W p

;tch

1 and risniL'"

to a

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

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

le 1

)Osom o

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.

lee, ana servec

1 the settlement many a lonn;

,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.

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.

; f

! t

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

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

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."

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.

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

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

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

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

)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.

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.

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

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|

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

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^\^

'^?

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

>'^'

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

. ■^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.

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

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-

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])

had

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

•\

uncle was a sample or nis class

f h

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

<')

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

was

the I

lUnLnT

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.

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

e w(jman

the floor. Father 'J'om's anurer

f(dl
d

)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

hearty

wort! we

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

'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

av wn»'n she cannot ieav«

t 1.

ior severa

1 d

()

ur seconc

1 cah

>ni oi'oves

to 1

,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

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

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

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.

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

t tl

ley were given up

to tl

n and the children. The other;

l> H

:{.S4

(iLEAXEK TALES.

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

•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.

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

3f)0

ChKANKK TALKS.

«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

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/

lis side \vi

ith th

;tl

le restJessness o

f h

ler disease

\fi

was dosini»- and mutterin''-, showiuLT she was nofc
iierself. I tried to catch the wonis she uttere<l..

d f(

del

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. '■

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.

:^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

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?*

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

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

me,

was

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

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

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

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

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:

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

rouu(

md one o

f tl

le men can

-ht

mv ])ai

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

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

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( )

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

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

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

Hnisli liiiii Oil' wid, ver honor

ne(

.led

;hil

lelah. Tlie fcai" that I niiiilit I'atalK' iniui'f the

)Ul

Hone eausLMi nie to pans*

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

nil'' na])i)ene(i m

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

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"

leavier

lad

en sai

led

mor

closely to the wind, and owinu;' to these advmi

taoft'S she outsailed

us.

As she

passe

us,

]

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

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

424

c;ij:axk!{ talks.

!)•' two oi- tlirc'c (lays ol' inakiii;'' it. Ship aiiclioi'
oA at darkening', close to shore.

einaiiKM

1 at

iiiehor a

11 (1;

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

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

loV

1 d

.■hed
I

resse<

a '.id u'axe

ail(>rs a hand. The wind had

Nccred into the east, and it looked as if rain was

eonun!

The f(

ore manisau jiavnig Deen si

't, tl

) SW(

on,

i'ei)nii''

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

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

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

nne(

1 al

nie m

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.'-

)een m

OSS,

what is it comnared with that of

.f tl

many ot those aror.nd me, whose (|Uk

■t sul

(imssioii

hul

vcs ni\' s(

■Itisl

I soi'r()W

iMioUiih of this, let

me resume m\' reeor(

\Vh

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.

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

over and we made our way

to the landino-. We had trouble in srettino' them

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.

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

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

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

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."

IS nanu'

fatl

Michaol Fa<j^an."

'V\]v i^i'atc'ful soul; the hoy I sto{)],)(Ml the iiiati;

roni

lasl

unu

"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

"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

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

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-

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

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

440

GLEANER TVLES.

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^.

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

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

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.

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-

i; I

.il

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

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

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:^

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.

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

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).

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

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)

1.0

I.I

12.8

U,|^

12.2

2.0

1.8

•

1.25 1 1.4 III 1.6

•4

►

'/I

^ ^ >

V^/

Hiotographic

Sdences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80

(716) 872-4503

4^^:^'^

400

•ti

(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

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.

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

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

/J.

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

'xcept

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

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,

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

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

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

2S()

(;i-K.\\KI{ TALKS.

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

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

new

lei'e were hears am

il wol

ves ni

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

•■'-•!

\\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.

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.

"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.

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.

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

onie thii ni(ji'n

to 1

)in*

y tnni wna s i^ani

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.

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

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

)th

]<■]' luotner s lacc

'for

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

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.

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,

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

)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

to my itosom and, scj wc

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

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

leir cries are more varied, rani'inL'"

tiom a deep liowl to a whine like that of a child

?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-:

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 '

(>■

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

\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

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'

oosc.

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

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

ittlc (1

Did

mama

c s (ii'ovc in a wanon aui

What's the name

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

ri\'e her louni
h

1 tl

le ijriaiiii

1 and

can t M'vv We

Mv 1

loi'se

las

aid

LiOt

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

It'

e eanna nu

;i woman

look

for 1

ler

>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:

'}'

Mr I

raseec

lent;

le v'ont: i want

Vi.'V at.lvice

What s this; what's this:'" asked the presidcMit.
'.list a lost bairn, an hoo t(» fin the mother o'b

(liniia

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

it di<l

vou ever see

le ewe

that failed to Hnd her:' ^'ou just sit wheri' vou

arc, an(

1 th

)tl

le motner will come aloni:

ve seen

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

irrc

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

<ee]) ner C()ni])an\

(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.

\V1

len

m a man.

\()Ose

Jl! 1

ia\'e sui-ar on

' 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

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

() !'('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'

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

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

learts to e\-ei'\'

Jock

ant

1 T

\\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

exclanncf

1 tl

le man ot

tl.

^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 \\-<\'.

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.

s a mcM'

iniL*"

t.) 1

lavr a

littl

(' music, an(

I tl

VdUll

l;' ladi

K's soon learn to }»Iay

can

Isc 1

vcn ye noo.

lorn

I saw \'t' at the sh

hut \'(' canna hi

\'(' canna iilaw iiiv Inu'.

It;

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

xMii;' With |(t\' oN'cr lln' solitarv cinckfii ili.i

lit;

•hick

'!;•

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

a coint

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(

"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:

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-

a:J8

<;i,EANKIl TALKS.

"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

won

t d

isa))i)(>

I'l'

>int

:on.

I didn't ax vou to conif, ditl [ ? You'll

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

I r

for h

ler 111 tne woods wi<l a

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'

woman or

U! cow

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.

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

ie]"e was a d'owd o\

lem, some wid liUns ;ii

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

ni an Mowni horns au iiruio" s

hot>

the ould woman would hastin tc us on heai'ii

Avhere we were

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

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

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.

tt) ta k

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

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

•t'cn thi'vin

tl) crass it to this d

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

tired:

ness an hunLj'er, an huri'ied on m Lireat

M»irits, an in half an houi- Sam shout:

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

liui

her

lor

an wi'inklei

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.

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-

»)

(;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

.;'(\\ 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?'

am your

broti

ler s c

hild.

You miiiht has f knocked me down with a fea-

ler

was so as ton is

bed.

'What; me brotlier Jeri'v/

same,

mswers sue ni a waUe voiC(

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

uroes, as jiL^'ee*! on, ana met

'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(!

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.

»e aiie o

thae emigrants," savs he, "an mav hae the fever

i ve had it," s;

len,

'an am \V(

aoain.

"Aye, but ye may give it to ith»'j folk." At this
a Frenchman came up to speak to the man and

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

• >

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

nt up

to tl

lem.

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

ever a wor

'Tun

THK srMMT:i? OK S()KI{()\V

a ^irl K'iui-

)e •jiTouiKr

1 .1(

'tl

() anythuiL!: tor von

I says, phicini;' luy lian 1

(HI licr slionldf.T. She lit'tiMl up licr lioad that wa

h()\V(M

I <]

own on

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

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-.

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

le men cam<' an<

1 1

i'ras])e«

\ 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

tT n\

rincc, this man wants to i^o to (|uara,ntin(' and li;

no permit.

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(

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

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)

ouniani,

says a r i-encnman

Bedad," says I

they shpoiled a tine cavalryman when they mad<

a pi

•1

reacner ov nnn

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.

)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

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<

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;

ns summer of soitow

e W

as wake a,nd elosed hi

s e\'es.

Js tl

II'IV

ythini;-

moi'e

can (

i.> r

()»• vees:

ks I. '-Nntli

Iiil;', uncle deai-; the suiimier hj-ee/e is sweet.

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

le wei'e on slnp ai^oun and then he won

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

rippiiie" his hand, watching him, when all at owcv

THK sr.MMi:i; MK S(»|{lt(>\\

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

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

dand

and now

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

^}'

)e a (

lead

man.

That

OU WJl