THE

BACKWOODS' LIFE.

W. F. MUNEO

■^

"Nothing I have ever read presents backwoods' life more vividly and tnithfiiDy."— Dr. Ormlston.

"To its positive literary merit, it adds the other great recommendation, in ray eyes, of neither
exaggerating the mducements nor the obstacles in the Canadian settler's way."— Tho8. D'Arcy McGkb.

■ » * • < »

• .II

' I
• 1 . . •

Toi\ONTO :

PRINTED BY HUNTER, ROSE & CO,
1869.

• . • • , »'

• « • • ■ i

♦ •

L DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK,

WHICH ATTEMPTS TO PORTRAY THE HUMBLE LIFE AND
LABOUR OF THE IMMIGRANT AND THE SETTLER,

THE HON. WM. PEARCE HOWLAND, C.B.,

LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR OF ONTARIO,

ONE OF THE PIONEERS OF THE BACKWOODS OF CANADA.

59557

PREFACE.

A foolish (Ire.ad of the unknown life of the Emigrant beyond
the sea, not unseldom interferes witli the poor man's resolution
to give it a trial. The timid shrink from change, and would be as-
sured, if possible, as to their lot under new and untried conditions.
To such, the fact may be made known that Canada is very rich in
resources, and has many attractions tor the immigrant and the
settler, but it is doubtful if such infonuation would sooner help
to a decision than that which tended to familiarize the mind with
the ways of the country ; which made known the details, the ups
and downs of the settler's everyday life, and showed how others,
more forward, had begun and carried on the sti^uggle for a home
and a hundred acres in the Land of Freedom and Plenty.

Convinced of the utility of disseminating such simple informa-
tion, I venture to proffer what is contained in the following pages,
— a very insignificant quota no doubt, in the hope that others,
following in the same direction, may do more and better.

W. F. M.

Toronto, Augutt, 1869.

CONTENTS.

FAOK
CHAP. I. — " FOUTY OR X XFTY YEAES AGO." 1

II. — AFreshStart 10

III.— The "Wee Tailor" 14

IV. — A New Proprietor 20

v.— The Widow 24

VI.— Mr. Peach 27

VII. — John Gilmour's Experience 31

VIIL— The. Raymonds 39

IX. — The Gates's all the year round 46

THE

BACKWOODS' LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

"FOETY OR FIFTY YEARS AGO.'

Forty or fifty years ago few settlers had pierced the forest of
what may be called the Peninsida of Western Ccinc U, now part
of the new Province of Ontario, to any considera,ble depth north
of the two lowest of the Great Lakes, whilst along the shores
of Lake Huron and the Georgian Bay, scarcely an opening liad
been made ; the great interior still slumbered in the gloom of its
ancient solitude, a wilderness of pine, and maple — primeval haunt
of the deer, the Red Indian, the wolf, and the bear.

What is now the thriving settlement of Coming's Mills, far to
the north and west of Toronto, was at this early period, known
only from its beaver-dams to a few adventurous trappers, " native
burghers of the wood," who, in pursuit of the mink and beaver
along the creeks and rivers, were in reality the first white pioneers
of tlie Canadian woods, although, as in the case of the aboriginal
wanderers — the mysterious tribes of the forest, with whom they
often frequented, and whose mode of life they partly adopted,
nearly all of them have passed away and been forgotten.

One of the nomads of this early hunting period, Elijah Corn-
ing by name, wiiose Indian tastes led him to adoj)t the wandering
Kfe of a hunter and trapper, on the streams and lakelets of the
interior, was the fijrat to settle down in the remote region, now
called after his name.

His idea was to become the founder of a great inland settlement.
With a few kindred spirits to begin with, inducements should be
held out to others to join in the adventure, for such it must have
been in those days ; a grist and saw mill were ^ ) be put up as

THE backwoods' LIFE.

soon as practicable, and with the requisite number of settlers they
would become a inunicipality. There would be a Tillage no doubt,
the village would grow into a county to^vn, perhaps into a city,
for with luck, management and a good location the like, or very
near it, had happened before : meanwhile, until the produce of
their clearings was available for their support, and as often after-
wards as they had a mind, they might turn to the hook and line,
the rifle and the steel trap, for the bass and speckled trout were
abundant in the rivers, the beaver had not yet disappeared, the
mink, the otter, and the muskrat still haunted the lakes and
streams, and still in prodigious numbers the lordly deer

" Arched his neck from glades, raid thtK
Unhuntod sought his woods and wildemei^s again."

or if more exciting sport were desired the grey wolf and the black
bear might be tracked to their coverts in the swamp.

The spot selected by the old trapper for his hunting and pio-
neering experiment was, in his estimation no doubt, well adapted
for the purpose. Northward stretched for many miles an expanse
of as fine rolling hardwood land, as could be met with anywhere
in the Province. Eastward the country abruptly descended, open-
ing up into a valley of enormous dimensions affording an illimit-
able vista of dark woods as a relief to the monotony of the dull
level. To the west, vast beaver-meadows, swales, and cedar
swamps, formed the head waters of several important streams.
A prevailing feature of the country southward was the frequent
occurrence of spring creeks and small lakes, prolific in fish, and
future mill sites.

Here, then, forty miles and more in advance of the very out-
skirts of the front settlements, with a belt of pathless woods be-
tween, over which the great immigration tide w.as only slowly
rising, did our pioneer, with a few others whom he prevailed upon
to share his fortunes, commence to build up an estate.

There is a beautiful fable of early pioneer life on the Susque-
hanna, by the poet Campbell, but attempting the delineation of a
phase of life altogether foreign to his experience he makes the
same dramatic mistake as appears in the Endymion of John Keats,

" It was beneath thy skies that put to prune
His autumn fruits, or skim the light canoe,

Perchance along thy river calm at noon,
The happy shepherd swain had naught to do ! ! "

" Delightful Wyoming"/' sure enough !

THE backwoods' LIFE. 8

The muse of Longfellow, truer to nature, breathes the genuine
aroma of the woodc, the dark stream, and the hidden lake,
with all the forms of prolific life and savage lovliness therein, but
the " forest primeval " of the poet, with its " murmuring pines,
and hemlocks bearded with moss, indistinct in the twilight," is
not the home of the immigi-ant and the settler.

In fact it won't do to go to the poets for the truth about the
backwoods of Canada. No fiction of forest life, from the day of
Arcadian Pan downwards, is at all like the reality — scenes devoid
of human association, and tradition, where Nature's mystery is
forgotten in the hard struggle to convert her wild haunts into
real estate, under a patent from the British Ci'own. This is all
the poetry of bush life as yet conceivable — a home for t.ie poor
man, tvith peace and plenty to fill it.

Instances in which this ideal of Canadian romance has been
realized, forming part of the writer's own experience and personal
observation, and more adapted to be of service to emigrants of the
present day will be given, but the experience A Elijah Corning,
an oft repeated tale by the pleasant fireside of one who shared it
from the beginning, must not be omitted, for therein will at least
be found a word of useful warning.

It was in the early part of the summer of 18 — that our pioneer
set out to take possession of the tract of land which he had obtain-
ed as a government gi-ant on condition of permanent settlement,
and certain specific improvements to be made, the principal part
of which consisted in the puttmg up of a grist and saw mill on one
of the streams, and the clearing of a certain number of acres in a
given time. Four or five others, bound in the same way as to
clearing, undertook to go with liim. They were all married men
with families, but these were to remain with their relations until
the following summer, when it was expected they would have
houses or at least shanties ready for their reception.

Corning and one or two of the others were not without means,
and took with them a considerable stock of provisions, tools and
other necessaries in two old lumber waggons, each drawn by a
yoke of oxen.

The old trapper knew the road well, for long familiarity with
the woods had given him some of the Indian's unerring instinct
of locality, but with the loaded teams many a long roundabout,
to avoid the gullies and swamps, had to be made ere they arrived
at their destination, so that more than a week was occupied in the
journey. At night, they halted in some convenient spot, and slept

4f THE backwoods' LIFE.

in the waggons, first kindling large fires, and turning the oxen
loose with bells on their necks, to browse on the ground hemlock,
and maple saplings.

Arrived in safety at their destination, their first efibrts were
directed to the clearing of a small patch for potatoes and Indian
corn — not yet too late for such crops — which would come in so
handy in tlie fall, when they would all be tired of the hard hunt-
er's fare. In a week or ten days they had nearly an acre cleared,
fenced and in crop. This was on Coming's property, and while
they were all to share in the proceeds, he was to pay back in
labor to each the time given to this, their first work done in the
new settlement, about the hardest they ever did in it, for the
timber and brush, not having time to season, were not in a con-
dition to be treated as in ordinary cases, but had all to be moved
oft.

They now went more systematically to work and put up a good
sized log shanty near the little clearing ; the roof consisted of elm
bark, and the floor of hemlock slabs, obtained by splitting uj) the
logs with wedges, and levelling them with the broad axe. Here
they were all to live in common till the following spring.

By this time each one had fixed upon a lot for himself, and look-
ing at the selections made, we now seo that our pioneers were
either very poor judges of good land, or had an eye to something
else than profitable farming. Corning himself had the roughest
lot in the whole settlement, but no doubt he prized it on account
of its water-privileges. Another of the pioneers chose a very
beautiful level lot, the recommendations to which being its close
proximity to an almost interminable swamp, where the hidden
SBOws of winter often lingered into June, nipping the wheat in the
blade. In fact very few of these first clearings are now of much
value for farming purposes.

By special agreement with Corning the other pioneers were to
receive cash, or its equivalent, either in labor or material in return
for their assistance at the Avork of clearing the mill sites, building
the dam and cutting the race, involving considerable labor,
although, from the favourable situation and nature of the ground,
it happened to be less than was expected. The part of the stream
selected for the site was at the bottom of a series of rapids where
the channel, for a hundred yards or so, became wide and perfectly
level, composed, as in the case of the entire basin and bed of the
stream, so far as it was known, of a species of shaly limestone,
from the tilted portions of which, it was an easy matter to obtain,

THE backwoods' LIFE. H

with the assistance of the wedge and the crowhar, any quantity of
material for the foundation. A day or two's chopping sufficed to
take down all the trees necessary to be removed in order to pro-
ceed with the dam and the mill race. Immediately above the
rapids the stream nan-owed to the width of a few feet, and a little
further up occurred one of the numerous beaver-meadows admir-
ably adapted for holding water, which was indeed their original
and legitimate function, but having been abandoned, and the
water- works getting out of repair, they were left high and dry for
grass to gi'ow on, a god-send to the earl}^ settler till he can raise
his own timothy. It was here at the narrowest part of the channel
that the dam was built. The race, which required to be about a
hundred yards in length, was dug out of the face of the hill on the
right bank, and owing to the roots and gi'avelly nature of tlie
gi'ound, was the hardest work of all. The next operation Avas to
get the frames, both of the grist and saw-mills, in readiness for
raising. These consisted entirely of cedar, of which an almndance
could be had in the swamps. It is a very durable wood, and on
account of its lightness well adapted for all building purposes,
especially when only four or five hands can be had for the raising.
In this case the logs were all squared with the axe, the lowest, in-
cluding the sills, being the heaviest that could be obtained, rested
on a foundation of limestone slabs, right in the level bed of the
river — no tear of freshets carrying the whole thing down stream,
for it was only a little way to the parent lake, and neither heavy
rain nor sudden thaw could make much diftcrence upon it.

It was a source of great satisiaction to our pioneers when they
had finished their raising, for it seemed like the accomplisliment
of their object. Here, for the present, however, the mill opera-
tions would have to cease to aftbrd to each the time necessary to
push forward the clearing of a few acres for crop the following
spring. At odd times, when not working for Corning at the
mills, they had all been doing a little on their own lots ; one had
about two acres chopped, the rest al out one, which they now set
themselves to burn and clear up for fall wheat, usually si /n in
September. They aU worked together at the logging, going from
one lot to the other, until the whole was completed. Their
fall and winter chopping would have to lie over till the spring,
when, if the season was at all favourable, more clearing up might
be accomplished in time for later sowing. On finishing their
day's work they returned to their common quartei 5 in the shanty,
where one of the number, in regular rotation, had taken his turn

6 THE backwoods' LIFE.

as cook, preceding the other!? an hour or two to attend to the
duty of providing Bupper, as well as breakfast and luncheon for the
following day. xt was seldom they wanted venison, for none of
them went out without his rifle and the deer were always about.
Once or twice they caught a bear in a primitive sort of trap made
of a frame of stout logs, baited with th 3 viscera of a deer, so placed
that when pulled at by the bear, the top fell down, and poor bruin
was a prisoner without reprieve, unless he was strong enough to
break his prison, as he has been known to do : his chances were
small, however, and the tirst that came along sent a bullet through
his ear. This was rare sport and brought good cheer, and a val-
uable skin to the shanty. Then there was always at iiand a plen-
tiful supplyof fish, which, with tea and bread hiked in the camp oven,
furnished a rough but wholesome meal to men unaccustomed co
the refinements of cookery.

They had brought five or six barrels of flour with them, but
before entering upon their winter campaign they would require a
further supply of this as well as other necessaries, paiticularly
pork, for which some of them would have to go to the front while
the roads were passable. Corning, who also wanted lots of things
for the mills, and to make some arrangement with a millwright
to put up the machinery in the spring, decided to go himself,
with another of the men, taking both waggons. The journey out
through the late October woods gleaming with gold and crimson
was pleasant, and did not occupy more than three or four days ;
but the return was attended with much hardship and suffering —
the days were short, and there had been a heavy fall of snow ; it
was well for our pioneers that they were hardy, patient men, ac-
customed to camping out, and protecting themselves from cold and
the attack of savage beasts. At length, however, they reached the
shanty, which, during their absence, had been put in some better
trim for winter. The chinks between the logs having at the time
of the raising been merely wedged with blocks of cedar were now
carefully stuffed with moss and plastered with a fine blue clay
which happened to be at hand. They had also added a chimney
with a stone base and hearth of sufficient capacity to take in logs
of four or five feet, of which, in the cold weather there would be
no stint in such a wooden country.

The regular work of the winter now commenced. Besides chop-
ping, each on his own lot, or in pair?, day about, they cut a road
from the mills to the furthest away clearing, which they hoped
would some day be a concession line along the front of the lots

THE backwoods' LIFE. 7

they had taken up. They also got the logs hauled together to
where each was to have his house, and made thera all ready for
raising. Thus they continued until the snow became so deep
that they could not conveniently attend to such work ; they then
betook themselves to hunting. The principal game was the deer,
which they followed on snow shoes, going against the wind nntil
chance gave them a shot. They had many a long tramp for
nothing, but after all got far m re venison than they could use.
Corning had a way of tanning \e skins soft and w^hite, which
made them valuable, and they managed to get a good many
of them this winter.

The Canadian deer is a very graceful animal, differing little in
appearance from the famous European Stag. His colour varies
with the season, being of a reddish brown in the Spring, of a slaty
hue in Summer, and dull brown in Winter. The belly, throat, and
inner face of the kgs and tail are white. The L'uck only has horns
— two small pointed ones the first year, but each succeeding year
adds a branch, until complete ramification is attained, the antlers
are shed every year and rencvred again in the Spring.

Other game they took in considerable numbers — chiefly ia traps
at this season. These were caught principally for their skins,
although some of them, as the porcu[)ine and muskrat made very
good eating. One or two small colonies of beavers, convenient to
the settlement, were rooted out entirely. Muskrats were very
plentiful ; they form a sort of connecting link between the beaver
and the water-rat, deriving their name from the strong odour of
musk which they emit and which tlie skin retains for a l;)ng time.
The body of this* animal measures fiora ten to twelve inches, and the
tail, which is somewhat liattened, and covered with jounded scales
mixed with whitish hairs, measures seven or eight inches. The
colour of the back is dark brown, shading to rod on the neck, ribs,
and legs, and to ashy grey on the belly. It lives on the banks of
rivers and lakes where it constructs a series of winding passages
or tunnels, opening from under the water, and sloping upwards to
a single chamber, where the nest is built. It is a very n.eek, inof-
fensive creature, and although armed with formidable teeth of the
rodent kind, makes very little resistance when captured.

Another aniu.<al, which was rather abundant in and around the
settlement, was the porcupine, belonging to the family remark-
able for the occurrence of sharp horny spines intermixed with the
fur, which of itself is a dark brown, but mixed with a sprinkling of
whitish hairs, and the spines being also white, the animal has a

d THE backwoods' LIFE.

greyish appearance. The body measures from twenty to thirty
inches, and the tail about six. It has a round arched back, short
legs, a small head and invisible ears. The spines commence on
the head, where they are thickly set sharp and rigid, increasing in
length and flexibility towards the hind quarters, where they again
get numerous and sharp. The tail is armed in a similar manner.
It lives in the hollows of trees feeding principally on the bark.
It is also a very mild and harailess animal, although capable of
inflicting severe pain upon any creature that attacks it. Its only
modes of defence is to strike a pretty sharp blow with the tail,
which alwa3^s leaves in the mc uth or skin of its assailant some of
its spines, and these being barbed with the points downwards to
the base every movement sends them further in, till sometimes
they reach and pierce a vital ])art. Those who have the cruelty
to send dogs after these animals have to be careful to extract the
spines from the mouth and skin.

But the most valuable animals were the mink or martin and the
otter, of which the streams in and around the new settlement aflferd-
ed a good many. The mink is an animal almost exactly like the
ferret, except in size and colour. The fur is brown and now much
sought after, comingnext to the sable,which it somewhat resembles.
It is a water-loving animal, frequenting the banks of still lakes,
marshes and rivers, where it feeds on flsh, frogs and aquatic in-
sects ; its feet are slightly webbed so that it is a good swimmer.

The Canadian otter is much larger than the European species,
measuring about forty inches from the nose to tip of the tail. He
lives almost entirely on fish, and is very particular in his selections.
Having often to change his quarters in winter, when they get frozen
up, he is sometimes caught on an emigration tour, but it requires ex-
pertness with the snow shoes to get near him, for he takes to div-
in the snow in the same way as he does in the water. He is said
to be remarkable also for the school-boy trick of sliding down
slopes as a sort of pastime, with which the steel traps cruelly in-
terferes sometimes. The fur is of a shiny brown and very durable.

Our pioneers, between hunting, shingle-making, and attending to
their cattle, having managed to put in the remainder of the winter,
were now, as the snow began to wear away, in a position to attend
to other matters. They went to work and hauled a quantity of
saw logs to the mill so as to be in readiness for sawing, as the first
thing required both for the grist mill and the houses of the settlers
was lumber.

The next thing was the raising of the houses, performed with

THE backwoods' LIFE.

'«!

much less ceremony, than usually attends this important operation,
where there are lots of people together. In every case the lo^s,
principally cedar, were cut and ready so that the putting up of the
walls and rafters, cutting out the Avindows and doors, took up veiy
little time. The spring had now fairly commenced, and the notes
of the robin and blue bird sounded sweet in wold and wood. In
confident anticipation of the mill being in operation before another
winter, with the additional hope that summer would bring an
accession ot new settlers who would also be good customers for
their flour, they now proceeded with the logging, clearing up
and fencing of their winter's fallows, this with the subsequent
sowing and planting of the same, kept them busy till the middle
of June, when Corning, being now ready for the millwright, set
out once more to the front with the waggons. This time, the roads
being good, ten days sufficed for the journey in and out. The mill-
wright and three or four new settlers came in along with the teams.
Corning now applied himself exclusively to the fitting up of his
mills, which he intended to run himself, having had some expe-
rience in that line, but it is unnecessary to follow him through
their whole process, extending even to the manufacture of the
greater part of the machinery, such as it was. Suffice it to
say, that before harvest the saw mill was running, and suflficient
lumber cut for the more pressing necessities of the settlement.

After attending to the beaver-meadow hay, and the harvest.
Corning took the road again, this time to bring in the families,
his own, and those of the other pioneers. Returning with
these and a couple of new settlers, he found the giist mill iiinning,
and the settlement therefore an accomplished fact. The old trap-
per did his best to make known what he had done, even under-
taking another journey to the front before the winter set in, Avith
a sample of the wheat and flour of " Coming's 'M ill," as the place
has ever since been called, in order to prove that it was a place,
and that people could live in it ; but somehow or other, notwith-
standing all the colouring he was able to give it, people did not
seem to be willing to undertake the risk of settling so far away in
the woods. Forty or fifty miles away from the lakes was thought
far enough to go in those days, and so it was, especially for the
immigrant, who had not yet acquired the Indian relish for un-
broken solitudes, nor learned the hunter's art of living contented
therein. And thus it was that the now flourishing settlement of
Coming's Mills remained for many a weary year a sort of Ultima
Thule of backwood's life, having about as little to do with the lake-

10 THE backwoods' LIFB.

board as the old out-post of Niagara, in far earlier times, had to do
with the Atlantic sea-board settlements, when a broad belt of the
fierce Iroquois still girdled the country between from the Riche-
lieu to the Detroit.

CHAPTER II.

A FRESH START.

Fifteen years' endeavour on the part of Elijah Coming, and his
pioneers to make a gi-eat settlement out of what in their time was
perhaps the most unfortunate location that could have been chosen,
had resulted in the addition to the original number of only some
ten or twelve families, of various nationalities, all very poor by
this time, living in a primitive sort of way apart from the great
world, and knowing little or nothing of its doings. The most of
these, however, were men well adapted for juch a life and proba-
bly could not have succeeded in any other ; still there were a few,
of whom, two or three were immigrants, led, they hardly knew
how, to such a queer out-of-the-way place, who, from their former
experience and mode of life, were ill adapted for " roughing it in
the bush " after the fashion which had hitherto obtained in the
settlement of Coming's Mills. Some of these, their patience worn
out in vain anticipation of better times, had left altogether ; their
small clearings, with the deserted log shanty in the centre, remain-
ing behind as a momument of wasted labour and final defeat.

In any settlement, however flourishing, there will always be some
that are unlucky and shiftless, but here, where the whole thing
had been a mistake from the beginning, they had all become more
or less shiftless. Corning was now an old man, and his policy
towards the few intending settlers that, from time to time made
their appearance was becoming very stupid. When any new-
comer wanted to get possession of what was considered a desirable
lot of land, with perhaps a spring creek, a little cedar or pine, or

THE backwoods' LIFE.

anything that was thought to enhance its value a little, the old
trapper would probably give him to understand that somebody
else had spoken for that particular lot, or, having direct control of
the same, would ask an unreasonable price for it. The conse-
quence was that the land lay uncleared, and the mills idle. But
bette.* times are at hand.

What firstgavethe place astart.was the opening up, by theCrown
Lands Department, of some thirty or forty miles of a road which
run past the settlement, some few miles to the west. The lots on
both sides of this road were of one hundred acres, and, by what
was considered in those days, a great stretch of legislative liberal-
ity, one half of each lot was offered as a free grant to actual settlers,
with the privilege of purchasing the other half, the design being to
encourage the sale and settlement of the extensive tracts of the
public land still unoccupied in that qua i-ter. The immediate result
of this enterprising policy was, that a large number of visitora on
the look out for land made their appearance in and around the
settlement of Coming's Mills.

Unfortunately a good deal of tlie land along the new road was
of a very poor quality — long stretches of tamarack swamp, alter-
nating with sand banks and ridges of gravel. A great many poor
ignorant settlers, after striving a year or two on the miserable lots
they had taken up, spending their last cent in the vain hopf» of
succeeding, were at length forced to give up. Some of them, how-
ever, with quite a number of others who did not avail themselv^es
of the liberality of the government in the matter of the free grants,
bought the Crown land that was for sale in the vicinity, and set-
tled down.

It may here be remarked that a bee-line of road or railway, is
proverbial in Canada for passing through the very worst parts of
the country, and casual travellers, not taking the trouble to look
round, see everything in an unfavourable light. The free grant
district of Muskoka furnishes, at the present day, a very remark-
able instance of this sort. The entrance to this flourishing part
of the country encloses a portage of fourteen miles from the
head of Lake Couchiching to Lake Muskoka, over a very miser-
able region, a real " Valley of Baca," to pass through which and
hope for good beyond, must have exercised the faith and patience
of not a few. The writer has travelled this road with those who
no sooner got to the end of it, than they turned right back laugh-
ing at the credulity which believed in the existence of something
better further on, and yet farther on, north, east and west, the

THE backwoods' LIFE.

great tide of settlement is ever flowing, the district is one of the
healthiest on the whole Continent, and the scenery of its lakes
rivals that of the far-famed Loch Lomond

In most of our new settlements of the present day, especially
those where the free grant system prevails, the constant stream of
settlers pouring in, along with the extensive lumbering operations
generally going on, originate a demand for labour, n matter of the
first importance to those who have no moans, and who cannot
afford to wait until the produce of their clearing becomes adequate
to their support.

The free gi-ant experiment on the line of road passing near Com-
ing's Mills had a marked effect upon the old perfunctory settle-
ment. Money, which in former years could only be raised by the
sale of skins, or by labour in the harvest fields of the more ad-
vanced parts of the country, now began to circulate — the result
of numerous small sub-contracts on the new road, and of the influx
of new settlers, whose mouths had to be flllei, and whose acces-
sion to the neighborhood was, at the same time, a welcome relief
to a community so long excluded from th j rest of the world.

One of the first institutions of a new country, undergoing any-
thing like rapid settlement, is the tavern. The inference, how-
ever, is not that settlers as a class, are more addicted to the use
of drink than others. The tavern in Canada, especially in the
backwoods, still bears something of its old English signification —
it is a place of hospitable entertainment for man and beast, and,
as such, is one of the prime necessities of a new country, particu-
larly in that season of the year when an hour's ride often reduces
the caloric in the human system to a degree which renders the
sight of a roaring fire, with a glass of "hot stuff"' an almost indis-
pensable condition of travelling. The man who has the courage to
move into a new country in the course of settlement, taking with
him a span of horses, or a yoke of oxen, with the material to set
up a tavern — say some whiskey, brandy, flour and pork is consid-
ered a sort of a public benefactor, and if he keeps sober and minds
his business there is no fear of his future. Let no one, therefore,
judge rashly of the tavern, or imagine that the tavemkeeper is
ex officio a publica^n and a sinner. Nor needs the traveller scruple
to sit down to his meal, or lie down to rest, if it should only be
on the soft side of a plank, he will find mine host do the fair thing
by him ; for he is generally a sturdy honest fellow, and has the
credit of the settlement to maintain. But the backwoods tavern to
do well must only be attempted where there is a steady current of

THE backwoods' LIFE.

settlement, otherwise it does not pay, and dwindles into something
very like a shebeen, to the injury of the whole place, as happened
to some extent in the case of Coming's Mills. Here, the tavern
had been early started. Joe Rogers, the proprietor, having
moved in a year or two after Corning and his pioneers, and
for a while, working nianfully with the others, had succeeded in
clearing some thirty or forty acres; but the stimulus of rapid
settlement was wanting, and it never had the healthy and stimng
appeai'ance which in general preserves from temptation the host
himself, as well as his neighbours. A good many had become con-
firmed topers, and often " loafed around " the bar, when they
ouglit to have been at work in the field or the fallow. But mine
host of the "Wheat Sheaf Inn," a year or two previous to the
opening up of the country as above mentioned, had sold )ut the
whole thing, farm and tavern, to his next door neighbour for a
waggon and span of horses, and gone, no one knew where. The
purchaser had no intention of carrying on the business, but the
new aspc 3t of affairs enabled him to let the premises and part of
the clearing, to a new man who very soon put things to rights.

The main reliance of the backwoods tavern is in lodging and
assisting the new settler. A good span of horses will always be in
request, and, with the hired man, will command from three to four
dollars a day, and the settler is glad to get the help they afford.
If there is flour and })ork to be had within a reasonable distance,
it will pay well to keep these necessaries in stock ; so that a
shrewd careful man, willing as well as able, to turn his hand to
anything that offers, is always sure to get plenty to do. In ordin-
ary circumstances the custom of the place is derived from the
passing traveller, who generally stops and waters if not feeds his
horse. In winter, especially, when everybody travels, people are
glad to stop a few minutes " to warm up " and have a glass of beer
or "hot stuff" which, be it undestood, is a concoction of warm
water, ginger and sugar, with not infrequently a little whiskey or
brandy. Friend meets friend, and one takes his turn of treating
the other, often asking all those present in the room to step up to
the bar and partake of the treat. On accepting the invitation
each one calls for what liquor he wishes, poui-s out his own glass,
and drinks it standing at the bar or counter. The ladies are
generally accommodated with a sitting room off the bar-room,
where they have an opportunity of enjoying their treat unmolested.

The backwoods tavern is often the meeting place of the town-
ship council, which attracts those who have a taste for beer and

14 THE BACKWOODS* LIFE.

public "business, those who have appeals to make against assess-
ments, claims to prefer for settlement, plans to propose for the com-
mon weal. It is often a motley and noisy gathering, with but
little outward manifestation of reverence for the assembled
wisdom.

A fruitful source of revenue is derived from the annual elections
of municipal officers — Reeves and Councilmen, Common School
Trustees, and more rarely members of Parliament.

The prevalence of Orangeism in the backwoods is also in the
interest of the tavern. The anniversaries of the " Twelfth " and
the " Fifth " are usually celebrated by suppers and balls, at which
there is always an abundant retail of " forty rod." Nor is the
annual shooting matches to be overlooked. About Christmas, mine
host has provided a whole flock of geese and turkeys, which are set
up as marks for the rifle. Young people are rather fond of this
sport, and on its account often spend more money and drink more
bad whiskey than they ought to do.

Such is tavern -keeping in the backwoods. Let the immigi-ant
have nothing to do with it until he is perfectly acquainted with the
ways of the country, and then he is not worth much if he can't do
better.

CHAPTER III.

THE "WEE TAILOR."

Wherever there is a rush into a new settlement, some one will
always be ready to turn it to account in the way of business.
The opening up of the country to the west of " Coming's MiUs"
had been noted by an individual of the name of Small, an immi-
grant of two or three years standing, on the lookout for a place in
which to try his fortune as a country merchant.

Mr. Small was a cockney tailor, a timid little creature, and one
of the last men you would have expected to meet so far from home.

THE backwoods' LIFE. 15

"Weak in bodily presence, and in speech contemptible to the last
degree, his voice never rising above a giriish squeak, there existed
a strength in his natural acquisitiveness alone, which made him a
match for the teiTors of a wild and unsettled countiy. This care-
ful little man had managed to hoard something like two hundred
pounds before he left London, and on first coming to Canada, had
obtained a third class certificate, and taken to Common School
Teaching in some rural section on the outskirts of the front settle-
ments, distant from Coming's Mills some fifty or sixty miles.
Here he had saved his money and learned the ways of the country,
so essential to success in the life he had laid out for himself.

It was in the early part of the Fall of the ye<ar that the "Apostle
Paul," as the settlers learned to distinguish this intcrprising tailor
and pioneer storekeeper, leaving his family provided for in the
place where he had been last employed as a teacher, first made his
appearance in the settlement, in the capacity of itinerant local
preacher, ministering to his own necessities, in true apostolic
fashion, by the labour of his hands and fingers, a welcome visitant
to the homes of the settlers, with his needle and pleasant little
ways. He belonged to the West End of London, and was great
on " Society" and " Ide Park." No doubt the neighbourhood and
companionship of brawny, belted and booted backwoodsmen, hairy
as to the face, and in manners, gruff a little sometimes, were not
what brother Paul would have preferred, but with other vicis-
situdes of fortune were endured with the most praiseworthy
resignation. Not in the least degree boastful of any undue
partiality for adventure, he had good reason to hope for immunity
from fear of attack by any of the more savage animals, still
numerous enough in the depths of that primeval forests ; it is time
he had been badly frightened more than once, but it was never
known to this day, that anything more terrible than a turkey
gobbler, ever thought of running away with the " wee tailor."

In a short time Mr. Small got acquainted with all the old
settlers of Coming's Mills who were delighted at the prospect of
his going to keep store beside them — a man of his experience in
temporal and spiritual matters would be a decided acquisition to
the settlement ; so that when he fixed upon a lot, and was pre-
pared to go on with his house, they turned out to a man and put
it up for him, not only hauled the logs and raised them, but
shingled the roof and laid the floor, all the cost being the shingles,
the lumber, and the nails. One half of the house, which measured
twenty-five by twenty-four, was petitioned off as a store, with an

16 THE backwoods' LIFE. I

arrangement of shelves and a counter, the other half was divided
into two apartments, which the family would have to put up with
for a little as a dwelling. The inside work of both store and
dwelling was done by one of the settlers, a sort of countiy carpen-
ter, assisted by the tailor himself, the whole thing costing not
over a hundred dollars. The stock arrived two or three weeks
after the house was finished ; with it came Mrs. Small and the two
children, a cooking stove and several articles of household fur-
niture.

Of foreign goods and merchandise. Upper and Lower Canada,
using the old names, import annually to the value of ten or twelve
millions of pounds sterhng, the distribution and sale of which, by
wholesale and retail, along with the products of native growth
and manufacture, give rise to a prodigious amount of storekeep-
ing one way and another. In the wholesale line, in spite of nu-
merous transactions turning up on the debit of profit and loss,
there has, of late years, been a large and profitable business
done. New houses are continually starting into competition. Old
ones are extending their connections, and in many instances en-
larging their premises ; but upon the whole, it is a question
whether this department is not beginning to get a little overdone.
In the retail branch, there is a veiy manifest overcrowding — hardly
a little village in the whole country but has its three or four stores
eagerly competing for business. It does not require a very great
capital to begin with in some places, and credit is easy to obtain,
hence, on the part of some who have unfortunately learned to
despise the honest and manly profession which made their fathers
independent, there is an unhealthy craving after mercantile pur-
suits. Many a foolish son has brought his old father to grief by
a vain conceit that he was going to make a fortune as a merchant.
Set up in business with the aid of a mortgage on the old home-
stead, everything goes on well for a time, but the stock runs down,
and the money has not come in to renew it, more security is de-
manded on application for more goods, another mortgage has to
be given — and so on, till farm and goods and all are gone. Bank-
ruptcy is of rather frequent occurrence in the small retail line,
but it is not thought so much of as at home, and is met with treat-
ment of almost unexampled liberality. Under " The Insolvent
Act of 1864, and amendments," a person,finding himself in insolvent
circumstances, may make a voluntary assignment of his estate and
efiects. The assignee, who is an officer of the Court, appointed
by the Board of Trade, immediately proceeds to realize upon the

I'HE backwoods' life.

assets, making a distribution among the creditors in proportion to
their claims duly attested. Two months after the assignment 'n
meeting of the creditors of the Insolvent, for his public examination
under oath, and the ordering of the affairs of his estate, is held. At
the end of other ten months, the Insolvent, not having obtained
from the majority of his creditors representing three-fourths of his
liabilities, a deed of consent to his discharge, or a deed of compo-
sition or discharge, may apply by petition to the Judge of the
County Court of the county in which the proceedings are being
taken, for a discharge, which is granted unless some opposing
creditor can prove the existence of fraud in the case. The Insol-
vent has not much reason to quarrel with the provisions of this
Act, but a good number of our wholesale men begin to think that
it is rather too liberal.

But the backwoods storekeeper is at first hardly recognized as
being " in the trade," or in a position on the books of the " Mer-
cantile Agency," hence the preceding remarks on business and
insolvency, apply less to his present circumstenees, and those of
the new settlement, than they would after some progress has
been made. At first his stock will consist of the most ortlinary
staples. In the " dry goods" there will be no occjision to invest
in West of England broadcloths, silks or satins. Strong factory
cottons, diills, denims, cheap prints, Canadian tweeds, and woollens
will be the most distinguising features in this line. In the cloth-
ing department there will be an assortment of heavy Canadian grey
ovei'coats and j)antaloons, with some lighter tweeds for those who
have not yet the resource of home manufacture, but wool-growing
soon to be followed by the carding mill, will afford an abundance
of good substantial home-spun, better than any shodd stuff to
be had at the store. In the line of " boots and shoes,' the first
stock will be limited in general to the variety "stoga," a- boot
reaching to the knee, ai.\d worn outside the pantaloons, of substan-
tial cowhide, and thick 3ole, indispensable to the comfort of the
neither extremities in the mud and slush of the spring and fall.
In the dry fleecy snow of v/inter, however, the Indian moccassin
is found to be the best covering for the feet, and any one with a
little ingenuity can make them, noi so neatly perhaps as the
Indian himself, but quite as comfortable. The best material is
buckskin, which may be tanned soft, and is very durable ; made
to fit like a stocking, the exercise of every part of the foot keeps
it warm in the coldest weather.

In the hardware line, there will be lots of shingle and other nails,

18 THE BICKWOODS' LIFE.

a few of the more common tools, and if there is anything like fair
hunting, a pretty good variety of steel traps, but the staple article
will be the axe — which ought to have been our national emblem,
everything depending upon its "heaved stroke." It is a simple
steel wedge of rather inelegant form, measuring about eight
inches in length by from four and a half to five inches along the edge,
narrowing to three inches towards the other end, where the handle
is inserted, which is three feet long, it is sold by weight, which
averages about five pounds.

In the grocery and provision line the staples will be at the first
outset, flour, pork and tea. Until there is a grist mill in the
settlement, the storekeeper may have to bring his flour a consider-
able distance, in which case he will require a team of his own, and
it will have plenty to do to keep the stock up, if settlers are
crowding in. Under ordinary circumstances, however, it will not
be long till the settlement has a mill of its own, and then the
miller himself will attend \q the flour market stocking it with
his own manufacture.

Pork will be in active demand until the settlers are in a position
to raise their own stock. In winter, the genuine backwoods
lumberman prefers his pork in the form which goes by the trade
name of " heavy mess," consisting of the shoulders, ribs, and flanks
of the fattest and heaviest hogs, salted and put up in barrels, con-
taining exactly two hundred pounds. The Montreal standard of
inspection requires that there should be not more than sixteen pieces
in a baiTel, four shoulders, eight ribs, and four flanks. " Prime
Mess " is another trade name, for an inferior description of barrel
pork, put up in the same way as " mess " but not selected. The
lumberer will live a whole winter on fat pork, bread, and green tea
soup, — for it can be compared to nothing else, boiled for hours in a
large pot and as black and bitter as gall, without either cream or
sugar. This will hardly do for the ordinary settler, however. Pork
in the shape of dry cured hams and sides will find more favour with
him, as well as a cup of tea in the usual way, though very often
minus the sugar.

Let me be understood as describing the most elementary condi-
tion of the trade — a veiy few years wiU make a difi'erence, and
the storekeeper will always know when to vary and extend the
different lines in accommodation to the gi-owing wants of the
settlement. At first he will be able to command his own prices,
but immoderate charges will soon induce competition, so that he
had better be reasonable.

THE backwoods' LIFE.

Our friend, Mr. Small was blamed for charging too high for his
goods, but he either got what he asked or people did without.
There were lots of travellers during the winter, settlers were also
crowding in, the tavern was full all the time, so that the store had
to be restocked more than once before Spring. Between tailoring,
preaching and sei*ving at the counter the little man had enough to
do, but his heart was in the work and he devoted his whole
energy to it. He was the very soul of order and neatness, and
when one had money to spend it was pleasant to give him a call.
His tenns with new settlers and travellers were, of course, cash, so
that he turned over quite a respectable sum of money during the
winter. The same thing went on through the summer. Mr.
Small was obliged to get a horse and waggon of his own, and made
several trips to the wholesale market for goods, bringing the
lighter part home with him and shipping the rest, by rail, to the
nearest depot, from whence they were brought by teams belonging
to the settlement, at so much per hundred weight.

Everything seemed to prosper with Mr. Small. There was no
rent to pay, the taxes were only nominal ; firewood cost no more
than the trouble of cutting and hauling ; butter and eggs were to
be had to any amount in trade, and the strictest economy in house
management being observed, the wee tiiilor could not help getting
rich.

Without entering into details, the general result was that the
little store expanded into a big one ; Mrs. Small got a gold watch,
the first that had been seen in the settlement ; the girls, Lucy Jane
and Mary Sophia, had to get a " pianer," which their accomplished
little papa could both tune and play. Next came the light waggon,
or " buggy," for summer, and the gayest of family cutters for winter
use, and amusement. Meantime, unpaid store bills were growing
into mortgages on tlie lands of improvident settlers, ultimately to
grow into the land itself, and all within a period of ten years. So
much, just now, for Mr. Small and the first store at Coming's Mills.

20 THE backwoods' LIFE,

i- ,1 : ■; I •■.:ij : • 'i Vit.;..': •;; ■ "l"! ! ■:. !i';.i ' ■

V i CHAPTEE IV.

A NEW PROPRIETOR. ' '

The first store at Coming's Mills had long monopolized its
trade ; you could not buy a pound of tea or a flannel shirt nearer
than Appleville, one of those embryo villages sprouting up all over
the country, thirty miles to the south ; but noAV with increased
resources, and the steady influx of new settlers, came also compe-
tition in trade. Mr. Small was destined to encounter a rival.

A certain canny Scot, hailing from Aberdeen, had begun the
New World on a farm in one of the front settlements, where he
had made money, and " raised " a large family of fine smart
boys, a stock said to depreciate in value a littlo after the
land is all cleared up, but which is always at a premium in the
backwoods — so useful is it there to have a lot of little willing
hands to help putting in the potatoes, to pick up chips for the
cooking stove, and the log heaps burning in the fallow, hunt eggs,
mind a gap in harvest time, and look after the ducks and geese
nights.

With a watchful Scotch eye to his own and his boys' future Mr.
Perth h{id long been on the look out for a wider field in which to
exercise his energies, and make suitable provision for the demands
of an incrcfising and hopeful family. A farm for each of h is sons was
not so easy to be had in the old settlements, but quite possible in
the back townships. He had heard of Coming's Mills, and the
attempt of its founder tx) make it a great place, saw at once his
mistake, aird believing that he could work the concern, entered
into negotiations with the old trapper for the purchase of the mill
propei-ty. Mr. Corning was willing to sell, for he was now old and
infirm, and most of his family had left him, still clinging to the
ho[)e of realizing his original idea, but from the absi rdity of the
thing itcelf, and the foolish means by which he endeavoured to
carry it out; ever doomed to disappointment and defeat. Poor
Corning had never been himself for more than fifteen years pre-
vious to this — one great calamity was always quoted, as account-
ing in some degree, for the failui^e of his scheme, as well as the
numerous excentricities that marked his life and conduct. Tiuo
favourite childr€7t, in company frnth two others beloiiging to dif-

THE BACKWOODS LIFE.

ferent families, ivTio had just settled in the vicinity of tJie mills,
went aiuay into the woods one evening to bring home the cattle,
and never more relumed.

" Not that day nor the next, nor yet the day succeeded ■ i ■ • f '

, . Found they trace of their course, in lake or forest or river." ..

This terible event cast a. deep gloom over the whole settlement ;
the men did nothing for weeks but scour the woods in vain search
for the lost little ones. They never were found.

'.'1

'* The Indians stole them off and away they did go
Which sunk their loving parents in sorrow and woe."

'■•■\
I. I

Two lines of a woeful ballad of indigenious production, which
afford the only probable clue to the fate of the lost darlings.

Many heart-rending instances are on record of cliildren, as well
as grown up people, getting lost in the woods ; but seldom has it
happened, as in this case, that no trace of them could be found.
The suspicion that they were kidnapped by the Indians was
strengthened almost to conviction from the fact that Corning had
quarrelled with some of them only a few weeks before, refusing to
supply them with flour in exchange for venison which he did not
want at the time. In these days, there is no fear of kidnapping
but there is always more or less risk of finding one's self astray
in the woods. By a kind of instinct the Indian detects in the ap-
pearance of the trees, the signs which are the same to him in his
wanderings, that the Pole Star is to the navigator ; but the white
man takes long to leani them, and when he ventures beyond his
bearings, the chances of finding his way out are considerably
against him. Coming across some deer or cattle track he is tempt-
ed to follow it ; if in daylight he travels on, facing the sun perhaps,
which leads him in a circle, and lands him at nightfall exactly
where ho set out. The best thing he can do on finding himself
astray, is quietly to sit down on the first log, and wait there. He
will soon be missed, and his friends will hunt him up. Or if he
hear a cow-bell, let him find tho animal, and begin driving it, he
will shortly be homeward bound. The best thing he can do, liow-
ever, is not to go beyond his reckoning, which will always be getting
wider, the longer he lives and travels in the bush.

A word or two as to the mills and the mill property now in
the hands of Mr. Perth. It is not unusual to speak of a grist
mill in the plural, but here, as we have seen, there were both a
grist and saw mill, and both on the same stream. Long ago Cor-
ning and his men had laid the foundations of solid cedar, right in

22 THE backwoods' life.

the bed of the river, but constant exposure to the action of water
was beginnihg to tell upon them ; whilst the machinery, put up at
first more with the view to immediate use than durability, and
now having had more than a quarter of a century's noisy and dusty
existence, it was no wonder that it had a queer rickety way of pro-
claiming the service it did for people. But no apology was felt to be
necessary inspeakingof thewater-power. However muchMr.Perth
might improve the grinding and sawing capacities of the old miUs,
he could do little to improve the stream on which the whole de-
pended. Rising in a small lake not half a mile from the mills, and
fed by innumerble springs, all the way down, it had a splendid fall,
and neither the drought of summer nor the frost of winter affected
its even flow. Its parent lake, covering an area of thirty or forty
acres, is something of a curiosity by the way. Parts of it are pro-
foundly deep, but along the shelving banks, and on one or two bars
running nearly to the middle there are only a few inches of water,
and here there is constant precipitation of lime in fine white particles,
probably the result of carbonic acid from decaying vegetation
uniting with the lime in solution in the water of the lake. This
precipitation of lime appears to have been going on for ages, for
the soil to an unknown depth all around the shore, and along the
entire basin and bed of the river running from the lake, is nothing
but a mass of granulated lime waiting for some cohesive agent to
turn it into rock, or, more likely, for some ingenious farmer to
apply it to the pui-poses of agriculture.

When Mr. Perth entered into possession, there were no other
mills within a radious of thirty miles, so that it was no more than
reasonable to expect a fair return from any outlay that would be.
required to put them in a state of efficiency. A thorough renewal
of the whole was accordingly decided upon. This was a big job,
involving considerable labor and expense, but commencing it
early in the Spring, it was completed in time for the first gi-ist of
the following harvest, to the great satisfaction of the whole
country around.

It must have been when his customers were lounging about
waiting their turn at the mill, smoking Mr. Small's tobacco, that
the idea of a mill store occurred to the shrewd Aberdonian, These
men might as well buy their tea and tobacco Irom him as walk
aU the way to the wee tailor's ; and surely he could sell as cheap
as Mr. Small, and was in a position to " trade " or deal in kind to
a much larger extent that his rival, who could only handle butter
and eggs, and that to a limited extent ; whereas Mr. Perth would

THE backwoods' LIFE. 23

be no loser by taking the wheat, even at its highest market price,
for he could turn it into flour, which was a cash article and always
in demand.

It was a serious blow to the wee tailor, who would now have to
compete in business, as well as in township politics with a man of
substance and ability. Mr. Small had long ago given up preach-
ing and taken to the fonim. He had been Reeve of the township
ever since its recognition as a body corporate, which took place
five or six years previous to the advent of Mr. Perth, and was the
result mainly of the tailor's effort and enterprise. A fault-finding
opposition might easily discover some weak points in his adminis-
tration of public affairs. It was a matter of notoriety, that ever
since the organization of the Township Municipality, and the
School Section, Mr. Small's business had been greatly extended.
People remembered how he succeeded in obtaining the sanction of
the County Council — a body composed of the Reeves of the town-
ships — to a motion by which the municipality over which he had
the honour to preside, was authorised to borrow a considerable
sum of money on the credit of his township debentures — how the
said money, in gi-eat part, went to pay a cloud of petty orders,
drawn by himself in his official capacity as Reeve, in favour of
parties who had been small contractors for work on the public
roads — how the said orders, although legally enough drawn on
the treasurer, that individual, in some unaccount^able way, had
seen fit to dishonour, until, despairing of ever seeing their money,
the holders had been glad to avail themselves of their Reeve's
generous offer to discount for them. Of course this could only be
done in trade, and the rate of discount, owing to the great risk
and uncertainty of the transaction, would have to he fifty j^er cent.
From the debenture scheme, however, there resulted an overflow-
ing exchequer, and the credit of the municipality was triumphantly
sustained by paying twenty shillings in the pound. The contrac-
tors who had accepted the composition grumbled a little, and
remembered the transaction.

Among the liabilities of the municipality discharged in fiill out
of this plethora of public funds, were several yeara arrears of
school moneys, which enabled the section to build a very respect-
able school house. Sometimes a new Methodist preacher, not yet
into the secret, at the close of his discourse in the new edifice, for it
was as yet the only meeting house, would be betrayed into eulogiz-
ing the intelligence of "a community which had distinguished itself
by such a noble effort to promote the cause of education." " In com-

THE BACKWOODS LIFE.

paring the school houses he had seen in other parts of the countrj^
with this elegant, roomy, and comfortable structure he was con-
strained to admire the wisdom, .and liberality of the settlers of
Coming's Mills, and it was a source of great satisfaction to him,
that his lot should be cast for a time among such an open-handed
people.

It was a good joke, much relished by the opposition, who were
fond of ventilating the debenture scheme as a means of taking the
wind out of Mr. Small's sails at the next election of Council-
men nnd School Trustees.

Little rivalries like these exist in all rising settlements, and the
fact should be known if a little at the reader's expense.

.1'

::• • ; .^.

-I'.

.-5 1

: }

CHAPTER Y.

■ ■'•.'■■ ^ 1

THE W^IDOW.

A highly respectable border Scotsman, of the name of McCrie,
who had been brought uj) a tanner and currier, and had carried on at
home a small business t)n his own account, finding that with the
limited means at his disposal there was rather a small chance of
successfully competing with others longer established, and posses-
sed of more capital than he could command, made up his mind to
try what his skill and industry could do for him in the new world.
Ai'riving with his famil}^ in the fall of 18 — , he took the wise i)lan
recommended by a friend, of moving at once to a comparatively
new settlement, and took the first chance of work that oflered in
his line, waiting in patience for more light as to the ways of the
country, and his proper course therein.

Hearing at length of Comings Mills, he visited the place, and
finding that the prospect of an opening for a smdl business in the
way of his trade, was somewhat encouraging, made a bargain with
the new proprietor for a small lot of three or fom' acres having a
stream with a water privilege upon it. /,, r .,,j j-iuli , i,lJ,-'< k il-uh-. /<!

. IE backwoods' life. 25

Having put up a two story log house, the upper part to serve as
a dwelling for the meantime, he moved his lamily in and pro-
ceeded with the fitting up of his vats and a water-wheel. Here,
not having previously been called upon to apply the hydrodynamics
involved in liis profession, and too readily listening to those whose
experience in that department of practical science was even less
than his own, he found that his vat« would not hold in, and the
water-wheel would not turn the bark mill. Other plans were tned
but with no better success. Had Mr. McCrie not been bound to
succeed, here was a good chance to give the whole thing up in
disgust. He had worked hard and spent his last shilling, but if
he could only get his business in operation, there was a fair pros-
pect of doing well. Witli some little assistance from a friend, a
practical mechanic was found to undertake the job under bonds
to com])]ete it to satisfaction, and in due time the thing was done
to perfection. The bark of the hendock, u.sed almost exclusively
for tanning in Canada could be obtained at a merely nominal price,
and of the raw material a fair supply ct^uld always be reckoned
on, as every farmer killed a beef or two once a year for home
use, and what was taken to market was also killed at home, it
it being easier to team it out in sleighing than to drive it out.
Hides, therefore, began to grow into leather, a shoemaker was en-
engaged to work it uj) for the market, in the sha})e of long coarse
boots, which being the only thing worn was in considerable de-
mand and a cash aiticle. Thus the business assumed an encourag-
ing aspect. Tanning is not a bad business in the backwoods
where the shoemaker and saddler can work up the produce of the
tanneiy, and in this instance it bode fair to do well. Mr. McCrie
was well posted in his trade, and with great industry and frugality
the clouds that had been gathering around him gi-adually broke
up and dispersed. Mr. McCrie had acquired a character for per-
severance and integiity ; he was strictly conscientious and imbued
with deep religious convictions, a most valuable addition to the
settlement. He was the first to take an interest in the religious
and secular instruction of the young, and devoted much of his
time and energy to the establishment of a Sunday school, of which
he became an elRcient teacher and superintendent. For several
years everything went well, he built a fine dwelling house on the
hill above the tannery, and could now look forward to the en-
joyment and convenience of a suitable and substantial liabitation,
but, alas ! in singular verification of the old French proverb,
" When the house is finished death enters," he no sooner had every-

26 THE backwoods' life.

thing ready when the "blind fury with the abhorred shears" put
an end to it jill. A favourite child died at the same time, ana of
the two now sleeping side by side in their forest grave it is written
on a marble slab, white as drifted snow, that " they were lovely
and pleiisant in their life, and in their death they were not divid-
ed."

It would be hard to conceive of a blight more desolating than
what thus befel this worthy family, far away from home and
friends. What was the poor widow with four helpless children
to do ? She tried to sell the place, but nobody would buy. She
was urged to go back to Scotland, but the dread of being a burden
upon others would not let her. Nobody could conceive of what
it was possile for her to do. What she did resolve to do affords a
striking illustration of that characteristic Scotch courage which
rises so nobly to the promptings of duty — while the life was in
her she never would submit to see her children paupers, nor would
she sit down and see them starve, but she would gather together
the wreck of her husband's means, and, God helping her, keep a
little store — a " wee shop " a.s she would have said long ago —
rather an unpromising outlook in such a place as Coming's Mills.
Lose or win, however, she would try, .and did try. The little
store was near the school house now ovei*flowing, and the young
folks became frequent if not very substantial customers, and not
unseldom were intrusted with ordei-s from home, when fathers
and mothere were too busy to go shopping themselves. Mi-s. Mc-
Crie could not hope to compete with her more wealthy rivals,
working as she did with so many disadvantages — but people ad-
mired her pluck, and gave her a share of their custom. " It was
aye something " as the brave little woman used to say.

The three stores, the origin of which has thus been given, being
all in the vicinity of the mills, constituted with these the nidi-
ments of a village, to which have to be added the tavern, the
school, and the blacksmith's shop. The weaver had also set up
his loom, and the shoemaker his stool. Something interesting to
intending settlers might be told of each and all.

THE backwoods' LIFE. 27

CHAPTER VI.

MR. PEACH.

We Canadians believe that we have hit veiy nearly the right
thing in our Common School System, whicli in its practical opera-
tion is essentially a popular one, while at the same time it rests on
a basis such as to render it to a considerable extent independent
of the fluctuations of popular sentiment.

It had its commencement in the year 1841, and embodies the
principle of a legislative grant boing apportioned to each county,
on condition of, at least, an equal amount, or " equivalent " as it is
called, being raised by local assessment. The extent of the legis-
lative grant is determined annually by Parliament, and its distri-
bution by the Chief Superintendent of Education among the dif-
ferent townships, is on the basis of population, Tlie amount
awarded to each township is then apportioned by the Local School
Superintendent, to each School Section in the township accord-
ing to the average attendance of pupils throughout the half year.
Then comes the " equivalent " voted by the County Council, and
very often exceeding the grant. At the same time each county
raises an amount sufficient to cover the working expenses of its
own Board of Public Instruction. Neither the grant nor equiva-
lent can be applied to any other purpose than the part payment
of the teacher's salary ; the balance of which may be made up in
three different ways : by voluntary contribution, by rate bill of
not more than twenty-five cents, or a British shilling per pupil,
per month, or by a tax levied on all the freeholders and house-
holders of the School Section. This last is now the prevailing
practice, for out of the total number of School Sections reported
in the year 18G7, namely 4,422, there were 3,838 maintained in
this way.

The presiding authority over the whole system is sometimes
called the " Educational Department," but this is a euphemism,
as the head thereof is neither a Cabinet minister nor a member of
Parliament. It consists of a Council of Public Instruction, and
Chief Superintendent of Schools, who is, ex-officio, a member of
the Council. Both are appointed by the Crown.

The Chief Superintendent, apportions the School Fund, prepares

28 THE BA"!KWOODS' LIFE.

the general scIkxjI regulations, the fonns of reports and nioJes of all
school proceedings under the Act ; takes the general superinten-
dence of the Normal School; provides facilities for procuring text
and library books ; prepares annual reports ; corresponds with
local school authorities throughout the Province; and uses his
influence generally for tha promotion of education and the difiu-
sion of useful knowledge.

The Local Superintendents are appointed by the County Coun-
cils, one for each township or union of townships, at their pleasure.
Their duty is to visit each School in their district twice .i year,
and to deliver .annually one public lecture on education in each
section ; to apportion the Legislative grant and the equivalent,
giving cheques on the township treasurers, payable to the teachers
qualified by legal certificate to receive the same, to assist in the
examination of teachers unprovided with Provincial certificates,
obtained only at the Normal School, after a due course of training
and study therein ; and to report annually to the Chief Superin-
tendent. The law allows them at least one pound a year for each
school under their charge.

This system of Local Superintendents, especially in the back,
townships, has been found to work rather indifferently, owing to
the lack of men properly qualified to discharge the duties of the
office. As an instance I may mention that our adroit little friend,
the Coming's Mills tailor, managed to secure the appointment one
year, drew his salary, and resigned, his business being of so much
importance that it was a positive loss to be away from it. A bill
is just now before the Legislature of Ontario which will put an
end to this, however, and it provides that there shall be a Local
Superintendent appointed for each county, who shall be paid a
sufficient salary, for attending to nothing else but the care of the
schools. ;

At present each c6unty has a Board of Public Instruction, com-
posed of the Local Superintendents and the Trustees of the Gram-
mar School of the County. It meets generally four times a year,
and examines teachers applying for County Certificates. The pro-
gramme of examination is furnished by the Council of Public
Instruction for the Province, and provides for three classes, A, B,
and C.

Each School Section is presided over by a Board of three Tnis- ■
tees, elected by the freeholders and householders of the section. '
The office is held for three years, but not simultaneously, as one is
elected and one retires annually. It belongs to the oflUce of trus-

THE backwoods' LIFE. 29

tee to deteiinine the amount of tlie teacher's salary and all
expenses connected with the school, but it l)elonga to the people
of each School Section, at a public meeting called for the puquwe,
to decide Jis to the manner in which such expenses shall be pro-
vided, whether by voluntary contribution, by rate bill, aa above
mentioned, or by tax on the freeholders and householders.

Such is an outline of our Common School System, which copies
in part that of New York State in its machinery, and that of
Massachusetts in its principle of support, while it makes vse for
purposes of instruction of the Irish National School Book, or d:M
until recently, and follows Germany in its Noiinal School arrange-
ments. To one gi'eat and good man, the Rev. Egerton Ryoraon,
D. D., we are indebted for much of the excellence which is to be
found in the system itself, as well as for the efficiency of its work-
ing. He was appointed Chief Superintendent in the year 1844,
an office which he still retains, and which, it is to be hoped, he will
long live to adorn.

The Legislative grant for 1867, amounted to $172,-542, the
equivalent raised by the municipalities, amounted to S35 1,873.
The Rate Bill System produced S51,197. And over and above the
equivalent, some of the wealthier section taxed themselves to the
amount of $799,708. Nor is tliis all that lias been devoted to
Common School purposes. From the Clergy Reserves and other
available funds $280,401 have been added. The total $1,655,721.

Looking for a moment at the expenditure we find that
.$1,093,516 were paid for teacher's salaries, $31,354 for maps and
other educational apparatus, and $149,195 for sites ajid buildint'
school houses.

The number of teachers is set down in the Report of 1867 as
4,890, of whom 2,849 were males and 2,041 females,

The school population of Ontaria, from 5 to 16 years of age, is
at present 447,726, of these 380,511 attended school for a lonc^V or
shorter period during 1867. °

The average salary for male teachers was $262, for females, $189.
The highest salary paid in a city was $1,35», the lowest $225. The
highest in a town was $1,000, in a village $560.

The organization of the School Section at Coming's Mills was in
great part the work of our friend Mr. Small, and followed closely
upon the township's attaining to the rank of a municipality. All
that was required to he done was to get the Township Council to
ntune a person to give the notice of the first school meeting, at
which the freeholders a»d householders, all having a vote, proceed

30 THE backwoods' LIFE.

to elect the ti-ustees. The result being made known to the Local
Superintendent, and through him to the Educational Department,
the new School Section was placed under the provisions of the
School Act; the Tinistees became a body corporate, with perpetual
succession, and a common seal, capable of suing and being sued,
of pleading and being impleaded in all courts of competent juris-
diction.

The next thing was to look out for a teacher, and the firsi
selection made was a female, the daughter of one of the settlers
who had been at school in former days, and knew a little of " the
three Rs," — " readin, ritin, and rithmitic," — of which the rising
generation of Coming's Mills, the indigenous portion especially,
were lamentably ignorant.

Miss Vanwick obtained a third class certificate and did her be.st
with the little ones, but when the winter set in, releasing the
older boys from the duties of the farm, there was a general rush
to the school, and the teacher found she had enough to do. With
no previous training or experience, she found it so hard to main-
tain proper discipline among her pupils, who had never before
been under pedagogic restraint, that the poor thing had to give it
up. Tlien followed an interregnum of several week. At length
the trustees had the good fortune to secui-e the services of a real
patriarch in the profession, just out from Edinburgh, with a whole
volume of certificates, and several diplomas in parchment framed
and gilded ; these with his reverend aspect procured him an en-
gagement at once.

Mr. Peacli had operated on the young idea for upwai-ds of
thirty years. He was' an elder in the Kirk, and a man of gi"eat
intelligence and respectability — it was something odd to meet with
his like in such a place as Coming's Mills. But queer illustrations
of the vicissitudv. s of human life are t^ be met with in anew
country. Not fa: from the school house we are speaking of,
struggling on a bush farm, lived a veritable knight, the descendant
of an ancient and an honourable family, and among the crowd who
came in quest of free gi*ants, was a man who had filled a profes-
sor's chair, and could write both M.D. and D.D. to his name —
the last time I saw him he was making shingles in a swamp : the
reader may guess the reason.

Mr. Peach's reason for being at Coming's Mills was this — and
it was no discredit to him : He was the father of a large family
of gi'owing sons, a constant dr«ain upon the revenues of a common
city school which he " keepit " and "ca'ed an acawdemy." It re-

THE backwoods' LIFE. 31

quired careful financing, on the part of Mrs. Peach, to make both
ends meet, and still have a scraping left. But yeare of thrift at
length enabled the old teacher to giutify his long cherished wish to
go to the new world, not for his own sake, but with the hope of seeing
his sons in a position of honest independence. He had several
acquaintances in Canada, some of them old pupils, one of whom
was the means of guiding his course to a small but flourishing
town, some twenty or thirty miles distant from Coming's Mills,
where shortly after his arrival he was engaged as teacher for one
year, the usual term of agi-eement in our Common Schools under
the present system. Here Mr. Peach remained for two years,
during which his sons had been all over, hired out to faraiers.

It so happened that our friend the tanner had met Mr. Peach in
his travels, and being at the time esbiblished at Coming's Mills,
and getting over his difficulties, he thought it would be a good
thing to secure the sei-vices of the old Edinburgh teacher for his
own section. The old man was very glad of the chance; and,
although the salary was not up to what he had been receiving,
there was a better prospect of his attaining to what he considered
the main object — a home and a hundred acres of land.

In due time the wish of the old man's heart was gratified. The
land was bought. His sons turned out good workers, and the
people being satisfied with his teaching, he was engaged year after
year, until the clearing was so far advanced as to render him
independent of his profession.

CHAPTER VII.

JOHN GILMOUR's experience.

Twenty-five years ago, when Fergus O'Connor, of Chartist cele-
brity, was propounding his foolish land scheme, there was con-
siderable excitement over it, among the weavers and other oper-
atives of several towns of the west of Scotland. Paisley, long
noted for shawls and spouting weavers, was especially smitten as

22 THE backwoods' life,

to its Chartist element, with the " small farm " fever. Numbers
connected themselves with the movement, paying into the concern
two, three, and four shillings a week, of their hard earnings, for
the glorious chance of becoming the lucky owner of a farm of
four acres^ — proved by Chartist logic every week, in the columns
of the " Northern Star," to be more than enough for the wants of
any reasonable family.

It is worthy of remark that the movement now going on
in the E.ast End of London, with a view to the encouragement of
emigration to this country, embraces something very like the
system of the Irish Chartist leader of twenty yeai-s ago, the
feasibility of which applied in a common sense way to the question
of emigration, is not to be doubted.

John Gilmour was a great admirer of the "Northern Star," and
a convert to the land scheme, whicli, along with the " Five
Points," formed the chief subject of discussion in the leading
articles of that enterprising " poor man's paper " as it was called.
He had paid up the subscription, something like five pounds,
which entitled him to a throw, but, if I recollect right, the chance
was only one in a hundred, and fortunately for poor John, it never
came. The whole thing ended in smoke. It had this effect upon
the Aveaver, however — he determined to make a strike for a hun-
dred acres in Canada.

John had been a shawl weaver, when that branch of the busi-
ness still afforded the means of a livelihood to the ordinary work-
man ; but the time came when only the more superior tradesman
could be entrusted Avith the production of the elaborate and expen-
sive shawls then in vogue, so that, not ranking among the first-class
artists of his profession, John had to " pit up wi' a bit tartan ;"
but, industrious man as he was, and blessed with a thrifty guide
wife, who rocked the cradle, and " kep the pirn-wheel bummin'
frae mornin' ta nicht," he Avas after all, notwitb.stnnding the un-
fortunate result of his i-ecent land speculation, able to save a few
pounds, a rare thing in a weaver of liis day. Paisley weavers are
well represented among the yeomanry of Canada at the present
day, and few have made better pioneers than they. Their long
practice at pitcliing the shuttle from right to left, and from left to
right, was of capital assistance to their acquiring the proper swing
of the axe. But the Paisley weaver of twenty yeara ago seldom
thought of emigi-ating, he was then too poor, and the slavery of the
loom had begotten a craven fear of out door laboui-, and an aver-
sion to change wliich were hard to overcome. Distance, instead

THE backwoods' LIFE. 33

of lending enchantment to the view, gave him fointness and
sinking of the heart. But John Gilmour was determined not to
give way to any such weakness. It would be hard to give
up his old haunts, his Sunday walks to Gleniffer, and " a' the
bonnie places roon aboot "—yet for their sakes, that were dearer
to him than all the world, nothing in the way of mere sentiment
should be allowed to interfere with his determination of making
a bold stroke for liberty in the land of freedom and plent\-. In
accordance with this resolution he succeeded, after years of toil, in
raising a sum sufficient to bring himself and his family to Canada.
By strange chance he found himself landed at Coming's Mills.
When he arrived at the tavern he had only a few shillings in his
pocket. A dreadful picture of his situation our friends at home
would be apt to conceive— a stranger in a strange land, and so
destitute ! The weaver must have been " daft " or wicked, in
tempting providence after this manner. It is an extreme case I
admit, but not at all dreadful in a country like this. The weaver,
it must be confessed, was not in the best of spirits on finding him-
self at the end of his journey and his means nearly exhausted.
The tavern had a dreary, forsaken look about it, and it was some-
time before any one appeared to notice his arrival. At length
the mistress came into the bar-room, where the poor immi-
grant and his family sat looking at one another. " I guess you'll
want some supper," was the first question of the hostess, and
without waiting for a reply passed into the kitchen, and busied
herself in the preparation of the meal. In the course of half an
hour, su})per was announced, and the party sat down to a plenti-
ful supply of fried potatoes, cold ham, bread and butter and tea.
All the men about the house were at work in the harvest field,
and would l)e out late hauling in the hist of the grain. It was'
concluded, therefore, that nothing could be done that nio-ht, so
they all retired to rest. °

Early next morning the weaver was stirring, and thought he
might walk out a mile or tAvo, and have a look round before break-
fast. It was a busy time with the fanners, and numbers were
already at work cutting their grain. A few lots up from the
taverri John spied a fine new house into which the owner appeared
to be just moving. There was a neat picket fence round it, but
the enclosure was white with lime, and full of confused heaps of
lumber, stone and dirt. It stood close to the lane leading from the
main road, and the weaver abeady feeling that this was a " free
country " he had got into, decided to have a closer inspection of

34 THE backwoods' LIFE.

the premises. It struck him in a shrewd way that perhaps he
might get a job here, if it was only to rede up things a little.

The land sloped somewhat abmptly down from the rear of the
i^ew building, and as he advanced along the lane, the hollow on
the other side became visible, revealing several other buildings of
a much humbler appearance, being what the weaver at once sus-
pected, the original log-house, bam and stables, of the owner of
the lot, a good-natured fellow of the name of Williamson, who
coming up the hill at the moment, and seeing a stranger in the
lane, bid him "good morning," and as breakfast was just then
being amiounced by blast of long tin horn, from the rear of the
new establishment, John received an invitation to join in the
morning meal, whicli he gladly accepted. In the conversation at
table, he freely communicated his prospects and intentions. " He
didna ken a great deal about the wfuk, Ijut he was baitli able and
willin' to learn," if he " had only a bit hoose to gang into, and
something to begin wi." Williamson said nothing, but after
breakfast he asked John to take a walk round the farm. It Ls
with no small pride that the fanner shows off his land, es})ecially
when it is his own, and lie can give you the history of its clearing.
" There, where that old barn stands, he had chopped the first tree
moie'n 25 years ago ; and that there old log house, him and his
wife did the raisin' on it. Them was hard times, now I tell you."

They went round the fields where the grain was cut down,
looked at the root crops, the cattle, sheep, horses, and so on. The
weaver was in raptures. It was a bonnie place. " An' hae ye
din a' this yersel', na?"

" Well I guess I didn't cut every stick you see in most of them
there back fields, but I did my share of chopping the first ten
years. Me and Reub Hall started to underbrush the same day —
that's Reub's place, that there shanty crost the other side — well,
you see, he haint much more'n a good tater patch about him.
He's a good enough neighbour, is Reub, but you see how it is. I
don't believe in a man loafing round them there taverns all the
time. When a man has land to clear up, he's got to stick to it,
that's so."

John understood enough of the above to venture the remark,
" that there was an unco diflerence between him and his neebour,
ony way."

Thinking it was now time to return to the tavern and see after
his family, John was pleased to hear Williamson propose to accom-
pany him, " and have a chat with the old woman." As they went

THE backwoods' LIFE. 35

along he made particular enquiries as to the weaver's capabilities
and expectations. After seeing Mrs. Gilmour and the childi'en, he
told them he wanted to hire a man for^the winter, and if they could
agi'ee on the terms, he would let them have the use of the old
house, which, with a little fixing up before the cold weather set in,
would do very well for a start. He had intended it for a sheep
pen, or some such thing, but his flock would be no worse oflT than
it had been before, and perhai)s he woidd have time to fix up some
other place.

From the end of harvest till the frost sets in, there is
always enough to do on a large farm in Canada ; and the farmer
who manages to get the most ploughing done in the Fall, has a
better chance of a good seeding in the Spring, and, generally
speaking, an early seeding with the ground in good order, is the
best insurance against the early autunm frost which are a great
plague in some new settlements. The farmer who has eighty or
one hundred acres of clearing, can .spend every hour between the
plough handles from the end of harvest till winter sets in, and it
is well for him if he has boys to attend to the cattle and the root
crops. Williamson had lots of })loughing to do, and wanted to go
into it at once, as he intended to try Fall wheat this yeai-. His
oldest boy had cut his foot with the axe, and was laid up for a
month at least, the rest of the youngsters, somewhat behind in
their education, were anxious to go to school, — so if John Gilmour
had no objection to hauling out manure, lifting and pitting pota-
toes and turnips, husking corn and feeding cattle, Williamson
would give him a trial for a quarter, at a salary of ten dollars a
month, witli board for himself, and the use of the old log house
for his family included. Small pay it is true, but then he wtis
only a "greenhorn" and did not know much about hard work.

John had the good sense to acce})t the offer. Always in speaking
of his first set out, which was a favourite theme, he seldom omit-
ted the remark, " Ma advice to a new comer, is ta tak baud o' the
first thing that comes ta his haun, because, ye see, he'll be learnin'
a' the time."

This arrangement with Williamson settled the difticulty. Be-
fore noon they had taken possession of their new home. On his
arrival at Toronto, John had talked the matter over with the
emigration agent there, a very affable and obliging gentleman, who
directed him in the purchase of such articles of household econ-
omy, as he deemed indispensable to the kind, of adventure which
the weaver, owing to his straitened circumstances was obliged

36 THE backwoods' life.

to undertake. These, with the few things he had ])rought with
him from Scotland, were left in the care of an acquaintance he had
picked up on the road, and were to be sent to hiiu on the first
opportunity, so that they had no luggage with them but what they
could carry in two or three good sized parcels, with which they
had footed it from where they had met this acquaintance — some-
thing like thirty miles.

Towards evening a few of the neighbours called in, and finding
how things stood, set to work and knocked together a couple of
rough deal bedsteads, two or three benches, a table, and a few
other useful things. The Gilmours had been wise enough to bring
a few bed clothes, and a couple of ticks with them, which, being
filled with fresh oat straw from Williamson's bam, furnished them
with good wholesome beds. As they had no stove, (me of the neigh-
bours offered to lend them his old camp oven, which came very
handy, as there was a good fire-place in the house, and plenty of
"chips" in the lane before the door, where the stove-wood had been
chopped for the last twenty-five years. A few other necessary
utensils were contributed b}^ one and another of their visitors, and
Mrs. Gilmour, having saved a little of her old country black tea, pro-
posed a cup to the neighbours who had so kindly lent their assist-
ance. Mi-s. Williamson furnished the eatables. The weaver in
asking a blessing on the humble meal, did so with a feeling of
gratitude in his heart which quite overcame him.

They had brought with them an assortment of little shawls,
scarfs, and other articles of men and Avomen's wear, which they
shrewdly expected to be able to sell or trade away for other things
tliey might require, and Mrs. Gilmour in a pleasant way intimated
the fact at sujjper, and, of course, there was a general desire to
see the goods, with which they were so pleased, that every one
took something, agreeing to pay for the articles, some with one
thine: some with another.

One of the farmers took a fancy to Maggie, the oldest, a bonnie
lassie almost woman grown, and wished them to send her ovei- in
the morning to his " old woman," who would be glad to hire her.
Another was willing to take Jamie, a lad of about fourteen years
of age ; so that there was only the mistress herself and the young-
est, also a boy, who might also have been taken oft their hands,
but they preferred that he should stay with his mother for a while.

Thus, did the poor weaver commence his humble career, yet
humble as it was, he already began to feel that there was hope in
it. Out-door labour, for a few weeks, felt irksome and fiitiguing,

THE backwoods' LIFE, 37

but pure air and an abundance of wholesome food made him strong
and before liis three months were up he got quite seasoned to the
work.

Winter had now set in, when there was less to be done, except
with the axe, which he had not yet learned to handle as a chop-
per, and consequently he might have to submit to work at reduced
wages. It was his intention to lit up a loom so soon as he could
accomplish it, ])ut the season was now too fai- advanced to do any-
thing at it this year. By next fall, however, he hoped to be pre-
pared, and would employ his long evenings during the winter in
getting the loom and machinery ready. He therefore concluded
to remain on with Willirmson at a reduction of two dollars a
month. If he was earnijig ])ut little money, he felt satisfied that
he was getting experience of the country, what money could not
buy.

"I maun just pit up wi' it, for I'm only a 'prentice, and canna'
expec to be a journeyman a' at ance."

_ John stuck to the good old Doiic. " It was a' nonsense in the
like ()' him to be tryiu' to speak proper." " I'm ow'er long a be-
ginnin' an' wad only mak a cuddy o' mysel'."

If at home, with his old country notions, John had been told
that all he would get to do in the winter, in Canada, would be to
feed swine, his imagination might have suggested the })icture of
the prodigal son, with the probability that he too might have to
fill his l)elly with the husks, and, in all likelihood, the thought of it,
might have helped to reconcile him to pease-brose and the treddle-
hole for the reiuainder of his days. But the reality never sug-
gested the idea. In fact all he had to do with the })igs was to see
that they hiid plent}' of pease, now that tliey were being fatted for
winter provision.

The pig is the subject of rather peculiar treatment in the back-
woods. No attention whatever is bestowed on hiiu, until he
appears deserving of it, that is, until it is seen tliat it will " pay "
to turn him into pork. Up to this point he has to fight for his
living the best way he can. His main dependence in summer is
the grass on the i-oad sides, while it lasts, which is not often after
the first or second week in July, for both cattle and .sheep must
have their share. When this legitimate means of obtaining a
livelihood fails he has no other resource but thieving, at which he
is a perfect adept ; every hole and corner must be stopped or he
will be in at the crops, but woe betide his ears if " Watch " or
" Colley " sees him at these tricks. He has always the run of the

38 THE backwoods' LIFE.

fields after harvest, and generally makes a good thing out of that ;
but until then he has some hard days to put in. Sometimes he
takes to the bush about this time, but whether for the purpose of
hunting squin-els, or trying if there is anything in last year's
beech -nuts, I never could find out. Let there be a good crop of
peas, however, and a fair prospect of his profiting thereby in the
matter of weight, he will soon be looked after.

Williamson having a heavy pea crop this Fall, put up about a
dozen of them, five or six for home consumption, and the rest for
the market. These, to sell well, would have to be kept as long as
they took on fiesh, or as long as the feed lasted. They would then
be killed dressed and allowed to freeze, in which condition they
might be teamed out and sold, anytime when the roads were good.
Part of John Gilmour's duty, therefore, was to see that they had
plenty to eat and drink. There were also two or three beef cattle
to be got ready for the Spring market. But besides attending to
the live stock, there w.as plenty to do in the barn, cleaning \\\) and
bagging grain, of which there were about GOO bushels to l)e teamed
out during the winter, so that John had plenty to do, but the
days were short, and he thought it far better than ])itching the
weary shuttle sixteen hours a day, for fourteen shillings a week,
with oatmeal and red herrings to breakfast and su])per.

Before this, his second engagement, was completed, he had the
chance oftered him of going upon a bush lot close by, the terms
being that he was to clear as much as he could of it, and for every
acre cleared and fenced he was to receive five dollars, and have
the use of the whole for ten years.

Arrangements of this kind are common, though it seems hard
that a man should have to clear up land and not have it of his
own when all is done; still in a good j)lace where it is all hard
wood land, and not too heavily timbered, one who has no means
of doing better, and knowing how to} go about it, may get along
pretty well. The object is to get as much as possible cleared the
first three or four years, and then take all the good out of it that
can be got. It answers best for tliose who have some trade which
they can follow during part of the year. After sugai' making,
which completed his winter's engagement, John's obliging em-
ployer, or " boss," .as we have it in Canada, gave him a day or
two's assistjince in cutting down, hauling, and preparing the logs
for the raising of his house. This took about half a day, all the
more immediate neighbours attended, and all it cost the weaver
was a dinner and a gallon of wiskey. He had still the building to

THE backwoods' LIFE. ^

floor, roof, and finish up inside, but he could do a great ]>art of
this himself, and his j)romise to pay by the labours of his loom,
furnished him with the necessary matenal. In two or three
w ceks John had a house of his own, with a comer for his loom,
and the prospect of plenty to do, as soon as the sheep were shorn
and the wool carded and spun. Meantime, he can be getting a
few acres chopped for potatoes and a little wheat, and next Fall,
provided he has a good season at the loom, he may be able to hire
a man for the winter, so as to push forward the work of clear-
ing-

"This Spring will be pretty hard upon you John, but keep

up your heart, you are stronger and manlier since you came to
Canada ; your boys have a better prospect before them than they
could have had in Paisley, and in a few years, if you are spared,
you will have a place of your own, and they will help you to
clear it," "I houp so," was John's reply, and I may just add, that
he was not disapjiointed.

CHAPTER VIIT.

THE RAYMONDS. j

To most people of tlie present day, an enterprise approaching in
similarity to that of our old friend Corning, would be considered
as deservedly entitled to the epithet, " romantic," especially if
undertaken by a man of means. And yet, under the very differ-
ent auspices that it might be attempted in these days of roads,
railways, mills and markets everywhere, with a tide of immigi'a-
tion sweeping over the country, soon to reach the most distant
points, there will always be some hardy spirits not afraid to ven-
ture in the van of settlement.

A pioneer capitalist is not often to be met with however, unless
indeed some speculative native, who knows pretty well what he
is about. For a genthmeii to build up an estate in the far distant
woods, would be a very questionable proceeding, although the

40 THE backwoods' LIFE.

thing has been done over and over again, and with much better
succeas than in Mrs. Hoodie's time.

And may be there are still some young men — I have read of
them in books — who, fancying themselves at the end of all further
endeavour in their particular sphere, talk a great deal of nonsen.se
about a " new career " in the grand old fcn-csts of the New World,
living with luiture, and learning her secrets, finding " tongues in
trees," &c., &c. Of course, if they have lots of money to spare, it
might do them good to try, but they would ])e extraordinary
types of their class if the liackwood.s' life suited them long.

It would make all the difference in the world in the cjise of one
who knew what he was doing, and had sufficient experience of the
couatry. If his selection of a place was a good one, he would very
soon turn it to account. Nor, let him go ever so far d,v\r>y, would
he have to wait long for others to follow, for under the new Kv>me-
stead Act, it is supj)osed that the country round is free to actual
settlers. In a few years he might have a flourishing settlement
about him. He would have the .shrewdness to see that the land
had water-privileges on it ; in which case, he would have the first
giist and saw mill erected, the carding mill would soon follow, so
would the tavern, the store, the post office, the church, the school,
the town.ship and county municipalities, in which, as covmcilman,
reeve or warden, he might possibly gi'aduate in time for the hon-
ourable position of })arliamentary representative, although, if bent
only on making money, he would know enough to avoid the
honour as much as possible.

If inconvenient for our capitalist to superintend personally the
first operations of clearing, he would find a reliable man to under-
take the work for him, who, with a number of hands, say from
ten to fifteen, all of them accustomed to lumbering, and Avorking
under a foreman, would proceed to the location in the month of
September, taking with them from the nearest depot their winter's
supply of fiour pork and tea. After putting up their shanty, they
would commence at once to underbrush, that is, cut out all the
saplings, so as not to interfere with the regular work of chopping,
which would thereafter be their constant employment during the
winter, in spite of the snow. Next summer would be fully occu-
pied burning, logging, cleaning up, and fencing the fallow, which
ought to be a pretty good sized one, not less than two hundred
acres, if they had been all the time chopping from the 1st of
October to the 1st of May. It is to be taken into account that
the ashes of the burnt up logs heaps have all been gathered and

THE backwoods' LIFE, 41

stored away in a house built for the purpose, and if this is followed
up by the making of potash, men accustomed to the business will
have to be found to attend to it. It will be well worth the
trouble.

As to the expense of the undertaking, the easiest calculation is
to set it down at a cost of twenty dollars an acre, or four thousand
dollars for the two hundred acres, which is from three to five dol-
lars an acre, more than it would be in a comparatively settled
locality, where the same work could be got done by letting it out
in small contracts to the settlers, always open to such, as a means
of obtaining a little ready money, but, not in the same time, so
that what would be a gain in one way, would l.»e a loss in another,
that is if time were an oliject, The cost of the land varying from
one to five dollars an acre, has to be added, and, sa}' the ca])it{dist
had bought a thousand acres at the latter price, his outlay will
amount to nine thousand dollars, to which, if he intends living on
the place, add another thousand for buildings. But the nmn who
has all this money would be likely to see after the spending of it
himself, in which case he would have to put up a house at first,
and " rough it " with his family, as best he could for a while.

But to proceed with a case in actual life, one in which the con-
ditions are not a little different from the al>ove, l)y which the
adventure of a })ioneer ca})ita]ist of the present day is contrasted
with what it used to be.

The Raymonds were a family of the middle rank from the north
of Ireland, consisting of a widow, two sons and a daughter. They
came to the settlement shortly after the Gilmours, and mnv occupy
the two lots' adjoining them. The oldest son, James, was about
twenty-five years of age when I first saw him, a quiet observant
fellow, who kept his own counsel, and seemed more anxious to
hear than to speak. He came alone looking for work, represent-
ing himself as a stranger, ignorant of tlic ways of the country, but
willing to do anything, and learn the work. It was the Spring
of the year and he soon found employment. A keen Yorkshire
man saw a good chance of making something out of him, and hired
him for six months. During this period of voluntary servitude
he picked up a great deal of useful experience and information.
He learned to be a good judge of land, and how to j)roceed in the
event of his purchasing a lot of his own. At length he foinid land
to suit him, and then we learned, for the first time, that his mother
and the rest of the family were residing in a village some forty
miles distant, where they had settled on first coming to the

42 THE IIAC^KWOODS' LIFE.

country, and where the old lady, assisted hy her daughter, had
coniinenced a private school for instruction in the ordinary
Vjranches, along with plain and fancy sewin*'. This had ena})led
them not to break upon their capital, which amounted to about
one thousand pounds sterling.

It was the middle of September when young Raymond com-
pleted his engagement with the Yorkshire man, and by this
time he had bought his land, a lot of two luiiidred acnes, for which
he paid, cjush down, the sum of fourteen hundred dollars. Pro-
perty was getting to be worth something at Coming's Mills.

He had also let out the chojjping and clearing uj) of three acres,
where he intended to build a house. This cost him about fifty
dollars, and he contracted to have the house ])ut up an<l finished
by the first of December. It w.xh a frame, enclosed with two inch
hemlock ]»lanks, and weather-boarded with half inch pine. It
measured .SO x 2.5 feet, and had a sununei" kitchen in the rear and
an imderground cellar, with stone walls, on which the building
rested, ^t was divided into six apartments, a large })arlour, which
would have to be a sort of kitchen in winter, another smaller
parlour, a dining room, and thiee small bedrooms — a very con-
venient, snug little house, when plastered in the inside, but this
would have to be put oft' till next year. The whole was to cost
something like five hundred dollars.

Everything being ready about the time sleighing commenced,
Raymond hired a couple of teams, and set out to Imng home his
mother and sister — the younger brother remaining in the village
where he had got a situation as clerk in a store. In a few days
they all arrived in safety — the old lady, very proud of her son's
achievement, as well she might, for he had actedjm^^ unconnaunly
prudent })art.

Towards the latter end of October, when the framers were busy
at the house, and the clearing of the three acres above mentioned
wa.s com})leted, he let out the chopping of other twenty acres, to
two se])arate parties, five acres of each contract to be ready, and
under fence, by the fifteenth of May, in time for spring crops, and
the balance, not later than the fifteenth of September, in time for
i'all wheat. This wa« to cost sixteen dollars an acre. The whole
was now underbrushed, and some of it cut. While the work was
progressing, Rtiymoiid himself was not idle. He hired a man at
fourteen dollai-s a month, with board, and set to work to put up a
temporary slied for a cow, and a yoke of oxen which he had
bought. He then went and hauled out a number of saw logs

THE BACKWOODS LIFE.

which ho took to the mill and had cut on shares. By this means
he obtained without any direct outlay as much hjml)er as did for
a large frame ham, to be raised the following sunnner, and had
several thousand feet to sell. The choppers were glad to get rid
of the hendock, as it is hard to bum, and it so happened that
there were lots of it on the twenty acres that were benig cleared,
which saved Raymtmd the trouble of cutting it down elsewhere.
Its abundaTice, at the same time, enabled him to furnish the tan-
nery witli some thirty or forty cords of the bark, at one dollar
per cord.

AnothcT- important pait of his winters work was to haul out
an immen.se })ile of the best maple logs from the fallow, which he
set his hired man to cut up for firewood. Part of this wa.s j)ilcd
up for the use of the house, and the remainder .sold to the school
tioi.stees at ninety cents a cord, of 128 cubic feet, the mea.suroment
by which firewood is bought and sold, Ijoth in Canada and the
United States. Each stick is four feet in length, if from a log
over ten inches in diameter it has to be split — the pile is four feet
high, by eight feet long, when mea.sured in single cords, but if in
large quantities, the three dimensions are nndtijdied together, and
the product divided hy 128, which gives the number of cords.
In the country, tliey are not so })articular about piling, l»ut in the
cities, where the cor<l is often worth seven dollars, the seller takes
good care to make it ^uZ/rsis much sis po.ssible.

Poor settlers have generally a veiy thriftless way of attending
to the wants of the cookiTig-.stove ; the usual method being, to
haul a few gi-een logs to the chip-])ile before the door, and cut up
a little eveiy day, but the introduction of sawing machines, driven
by horse-power, is now bec(miing general, and ])y their means a
whole year's wood can be cut in a day, and when well seasoned
it is a gi'eat benefit to the cook, and takes less to keejt a good fire
going.

Besides the work above mentioned, Raymond managed, Ijefore
the winter wa.s over, to take out, and scjuare the logs required for
the frame barn and stable, which he inte ded to raise the follow-
ing summer. The timber used for this })urpose is generally elm,
and the tallest and strai£jhte.st trees, not over eiirhteen inches in
diameter, are selected. The squaring is done with the " broad-
axe," in the .same manner that they prepare timber for exporta-
tion. After this operation, the logs are ready for the framer, whose
business it is to " lay out " the building, and he must be very
careful with his measurements and cuttings so that everything

44 THE backwoods' life.

goes " slick " at the raising. It is a business not requiring a great
amount of ingenuity, and being followed during only a part of the
year, has helped many a poor man both to clear and })ay for his
farm. Very little difficulty would be felt in obtaining the services
of a framer, as they are pietty numerous in the backwo* -ds.

At length the snow wont away, the sprlng'Jwas early and dry,
and before the time stipulated the contracting choppers had their
ten acres ready for the seed. With the e>:ce])tion of a small
turnip and potatoe patch next to tlie three acres first cleared, the
whole was included in one field, and sown with spring wheat,
seeded down with grass at the same time. This is the usual
practice when it is intended not to crop the field for a few years,
until tlie stun\ps begin to soften, and the roots die away, so that
the plougli has a chance to get through. The gr{\.ss keeps out the
weeds, and being jjeronnial, yields good hay as long as you please,
with no (jther trouble than that of cuttincj and curin<.j. It was
Raymond's idea to go on chopping twenty acres a year for five
or six years, always seeding down with the first crop; by the end
of which time he would be able to l)reak up the first field chopped ;
next yerj-, the next, and so on. Although, as a general thing, the
first :.rop (not to speak of the hay afterwaixls) pays for the clear-
ing, it is a course which can hardly Ije adopted but by those who
have a little ca})ital, and to such it is a pleasant way of clearmg
up a farm ; besides, by going into stock raising, as Raymond in-
tended to do, it could be made profitable as well as plea.sant.

In sowing new land, the seed is scattered on the ground just as
the fire leaves it. Tlie stumps of the burned u\) trees are still there,
all black and charred, and the roots are down dee}) in the virgin
loam. The " dragging " in of the seed is accomplished by means
of an implement sha{)ed like the letter V with short harrow teeth
along the arms, its peculiar construction enabling it to steer
through the maze of stumps without coming in contact with them.
A quiet horse is better for dragging than oxen, as they are too
slow, and it takes a tremendous ruiming up and down to cover
the seed by means of the V drag. Raymond took great pains
with the first ten acres, sowed it, borrowed a horse, and harrowed
it himself Meantime, in jireparation for })lastering the house, his
man was hauling sand and lime which had been burnt on a log
heap in the fallow. These jobs accomphshed, he went to work
and hauled his lumber from the mill, pili'g it in readiness for the
l>arn, which would S(jon be ready to raise. He also made a garden,
by stumping half an acre, and enclosing it with a neat picket

THE backwoods' LIFE. 45

fence — no light undertiiking, when tlie stuni]\s are large and green,
for they have then to be dug out, and the roots cut with the axe ;
but Raymond was a fellow that never stuck at anything he com-
menced, and he was determined to have a garden.

And now came the raising of the bam and stables, but having
occasion in the sequel to describe buildings of a similar character
I shall only observe that they were fitted up with every conveni-
ence, ind were as large and convenent as the best in the back
townships usually are. Up to this point their expenses had
been : —

For Price of land ^1400

" Building House 500

" Yoke of Oxen 80

" Two Cows 35

" Clearing Three Acres 60

" " Twenty Acres 320

" Frame Bam and Stables 300

" Hired man for six months 84

" House expenses for six months 200

' ' School and County Tax, six months 20

" Sundries 100

Total §3099

To meet their future expenses they had still a cash capital of
about $2,000 which could readily enough be invested in small loans
to the farmers round on the very best security, and this is actually
what was done. It was no extravagant calculation to make, that
the first crop of wheat would pay for the clearing. Twenty bush-
els to the acre on new land, is far from being a large crop, and at
one dollar a bushel, the proceeds of twenty acres would be $400.
But Riiymond meant not only to make the first crop pay for the
clearing, but to make it keep the house in fiour. He would be
careful in the choice of seed, carefid in dragging it in, in harvest-
ing and threshing it ; and at the same time, by working in the
fallow himself, either at chopping or logging, he hoped to reduce
the c(;st of clearing considerably.

I need scarcely assure my readers that the Raymonds got on
well in Canada, for they seeme<l to fall into the ways of the
country, and do the right thing from the very lieginning.

'■■■•''i '

46 THE backwoods' life.

CHAPTER IX.

THE GATES's ALL THE YEAR ROUND.

Of the settlers Avho accompanied or followed immediately in the
wake of lulic old trapper, Corning, Daddy Gates is one of the few
who remain unto this day. His extinction is somewhat doubtful,
having to ])e traced through a Dutch- American source, but Dad
himself was never very clear on the subject, and did not think
it of much consequence to him what or who his gi-andfather
had been. He knew, at least, that he was the son of a pioneer,
for he had helped his father to clear part of a poor farm on the
River St. John, New Brunswick. Hard work it was ijettinfj the
close spruce timber off, and raising a few oats — but for the lumbering
to be had in that region they could not have lived. Coming's
Mills, with all it,^ disadvantages was a paradise to the banks of the
St. John ; its hardwood land could be cleared and crops worth the
raising obtained from it. Simon Gates was therefore one of the
most contented and prosperous of our early pioneers, well i)leased
with himself and his two Imndi'cd acres within a mile from the
gi-ist mill. This circumstance added to his experience of the woods
and the life therein, although the conditions were not a little dif-
ferent from those to which he had been accustomed in his youth,
accounts in some measure for the fact of his being found in posses-
sion of the same property on which he originally settled some thirty
or forty yeai's ago. For, unfortunately, it has to be admitted, not
for the first time, that the pioneer is not always to be found on the
lot which he originally occupied and cleared. It would seem that
the qualities which constitute fitness for enduring the hardship
and privation of roughing it in the bush, are not in every instance
associated with those which give ^stability and success in a more
advanced state of the country. Any one strong and " ignorant
enough," as Daddy Gates used to say, can clear up land, and especi-
ally at this time of day. It was different forty yeai*s ago, when
settlers were few and far between, when there were neither roads
nor railways, wdien people had to grind their wheat in a coffee mill,
and perhaps not see the inside of a store in two yeai-s. It is when
the land is cleared up, and a new order of things commences, that the
difficulty with a good many begins. However strange it may

THE BACKWOODS LIFE,

seem, it is nevertheless a fact, that numbers of our pioneers,
through sheer carelessness and ignorance, have doomed themselves
to a fate similar to that which ovei*took the old emigrants from the
banks of the Nile — to toil, but never to enter in ! — to be near the
fulfilment of their early dreams, and yet fail to realize the easy
future to which their eifoi*ts have all been directed. It is one
thing to clear land, and quite another to farm it afterwards.
When the backwoodsman lays down his axe and takes to the
plough, if he has not been preparing himself Tiy study and obser-
vation fur the change, very likely he will have to shoulder it
again, move further back into the bush and hope for better luck
next time, as not a few of our first settlers at Coming's Mills had
been obliged to do. But such is pioneer life ; and while in this aspect,
it is to be regretted in its effects upon individuals and families, it
eventually ministers to the general good, preparing the way, as it
does, for others sure to follow, who with new life and better skill,
soon begin to make things look different. Generally speaking, the
pioneer of the unlucky stamj) referred to, is a nomad by profession,
and can hardly do any better, for his knowledge and experience
are limited to the requirements of a very elementary state of ex-
istence. It has been maintained by some of our most prominent
men that the native Canadian makes the only reliable pioneer,
and that the immigrant Avho undertakes the task of settling down
in the wilderness, without any knowledge of the country, or ex-
perience ot the work he has to preform, runs a veiy great risk of
failure. A few^ y*^ars ago, the question was incidentally discussed
in our own pi; rliament. Thomas D' Arcy McGee, at that time Minis-
ter of Agi-iculUire and Emigration, upheld the argument in behalf of
the immigrant against the then Provincial Secretary, who was all
for the native bom backwoodsman, although, at the time, repre-
senting a county w hich had actually been opened up, and to a large
extent settled, by Paisley weavers.

There is no question but the native, familiar with the ways of
the country, inured to the climate, and accustomed to the use of
the axe, has at the first start the advantage of the raw immiOTant,
but in the end, all depends upon the man. If the inunigrant
would only take time, and be content to learn for a while, he has
nothing whatever to fear, nnd with all due deference to the opin-
ions of our quondam Provincial Secretaiy, and others of the same
belief, I hold that the inunigi-ant is as likely to succeed, and accom-
modate himself to eveiy change in the backwoods' life, as the
native. At his first outset, however, he has no right to go in the

48 THE backwoods' life.

very van of settlement ; he should be content to work his way
to some such incipient village as the one I have been describing, of
which there is now any number in the back townships, and there,
taking hold of the firet thing in the shajje of work that offers itself,
wait patiently till his ideas have somewhat expanded.

But to proceed with our sketch : Simon Gates has been a suc-
cessful pioneer, and is to be regarded as a fair type of his class.
I might have selected a higher, but prefer that which approaches
the avei'age.

Paying him a visit, we come to the lane running off" the road
or concession line, as it is called, and away down the clearing like
a main artery, into which the fields open at intervals by means of
sliding bars resting on posts, and pour forth their contributions
in hay time and harvest, to be conveyed to the common store-
house, a vast wooden barn standing in from the lane a little, and
not far from the road first mentioned.

Entering the lane by a small side gate, hung on the same post
which supports the main gate, we pass along, on the left, a neat
picket fence, enclosing on this side the kitchen garden, famous all
over the settlement for its cuiTant bushes, cabbages, beets and
onions. The more delicate tomatoes, nuish-melons and citrons
have been tried, but as yet only with partial success, owing to the
rather troublesome fall-froste, although Daddy Gates, who is
sometliing of a gardener, thinks that as the climate improves on
the clearing up and settlement of the country, he will be able to
succeed.

At the farther end of this picket enclosure, stands the house,
not the original one, for that was only a shanty, roofed with elm
bark, answering well enough for two or three years at first, when
the family was small. The present habitation is not a very won-
derful improvement, and cannot be said to surj^ass the common
run of first houses in an ordinary settlement of the present day.
After all, i+ is not so bad looking, and with an occasional white-
wjish and l little plastering up of the " cracks" in the fall of the
year, it may do the old people quite a while yet ; .ilthough, ever
since Steve Foster, and one or two other neighbours, have got
their nice new " frames" up, the young Gates's are all the time
teasing " Pap" about building, which year after year he has put
oft', waiting for better times.

As the house stands in from the lane some ten yards or so, we
turn round the garden fence, where another similar fence com-
mences, and is continued in front of the house for a little space,

THE backwoods' LIFE. 49

then turning at right angles, joins that of the lane which is of the
common zig-zag description. In the centre of this picket is a
small gate opening upon a narrow plank footpath, extending to
the verandah or " stoup," the more common Dutch name for it,
which is a pavement about five feet wide, running along the front
of the house, boarded in at both ends, as well as partly in front,
thus forming, with the roof continued in a line with that covering
the main building, an inclosure, in which, for want of a summer
kitchen, stands the cooking stove in warm weather. The house
itself, vesting on the stone walls of an underground cellar, is built
of logs, and measures 2G x 22 feet. The main apartment, opening
from the stoup by a door right in the centre, occupies the whole
area, all but a nan'ow stripe at one end, partitioned off into two
very small bed-rooms. The garret above has never been fitted up
in any way. It has a small window in each gable, and is lined
lengthways on both sides with bedsteads like a small house of
recovery. Here the sleepe} 3 next the wall have to be careful in
rising to avoid unpleasant contact with the bare rafters, and here,
on a wet night, when their " chores " are all done up, they may
retire a little earlier to enjoy the rapture of " rain on the roof"

" Every tingle on the shingle ■ ■

Has an echo in the heart, , . i

. ' And a thousand dreamy fancies ^

Into busy being start, r

And a thousand recollections . ' •

Weave their bright hues into woof,
As we listen to the patter

Of the soft rain on the roof."

Such is the simple mansion in which the Gates's have lived for
more than twenty years. The rule that " the domestic circum-
stances of men, form a second physiognomy, which supplies a key
to their character and destiny " holds good in their case at least —
they are very plain people indeed. Knocking at the door, we are
told to come in. Mrs. Gates, a benign old lady of few words, re-
markable for their point and deliberation, thinks it unnecessary
to lise from her knitting, in the large armed rocking chair, but, in
a kindly way, bids us take a seat. " Help yourself" is the motto
of the backwoods, so we don't feel the least awkward in hunting
up a chair. There is an enonnous log fire roaring up the chimney,
and a cooking stove be.sides, standing like a family altar in the
middle of the apartment. The stovepipe rising straight up,
passes through a nole in the ceiling, then up through the garret,

_ _

60 THE backwoods' LIFE.

and out by another hole in the vidge of the roof — no fear of sparks
setting fire to the house at this time of the year, for there is a good
solid coating of snow on the shingles ; but if Pap does not run the
pipe into the chimney soon, there is no saying what may happen
in the very dry weather, now that the shingles are so old.

We observe that Mrs. Gates and her two daughters, Mary Jane,
and Elizabeth Ann, are dressed in good substantial " RoId Roy," their
own dyeing and spinning ; twenty fleece, more or less, having been
sent to the carding mill last summer, returning in " rolls " ready
for the wheel, which was kept pretty busy for a month or two
after harvest : the yarn was then dyed and sent to the weaver.
Mrs. Gates prides herself on the quantity and quality of her home-
spun, and nothing better adapted to the climate or the occupation
of the people could well be imagined — if they could only dye a
little better, these old women, it would be hard to beat them in
the manufacture of clothing. For ordinary wear, the men have
jackets, or smocks and sometimes trousers made of the stuff as it
comes from the loom, but for holiday use and travelling, their suits
are made of cloth fulled and dressed at the mill whero the carding
was done.

Mary Jane is busy " getting the dinner." She is just emerging
from a trap door in the floor of the room which, in winter, is the
only entrance to the cellar, with a large plate in her hand heaped
up with slices of very nice bacon, which, by dint of a good arm
and a sharp butcher's knife, she has managed to cut from one of
the hard fletches down in the cellar. The meat, after soaking a
few minutes, first in hot, then in cold water, is put into the capa-
cious frying-pan. A furious sputter ensues ; but let no one im-
agine that his olfactory nerves as he sits beside the cooking stove,
will be propitiated with anything like an apology. Coming in
from the keen January air, he does not feel it at all necessary ;
all tliat the case demands is a little more exertion of the lungs in
speaking.

A stranger would be likely to declare that the Canadian back-
woodsman was dreadfully porkivorous. The Gates's, on an aver-
age, must have ate six fat hogs annually, say for the last twenty
years ; but then there are seven of them, and we have to take into
account the " bees," chopping, logging, quilting, woolpicking and
threshing, besides the extra hands in haying and harvest. It is in
winter that the greatest quantity of pork is consumed, and people
may say what they like about the pig, but let them swing the
axe for nine hours a day, inhaling the pure oxygen of the woods

THE backwoods' LIFE. 51

at a ti^nperature twenty degrees below zero, and if their lungs
can stand the internal combustion without the carbon of fat pork
for fuel, they have a good right to speak, It must not be supposed,
however, that it is pig and nothing but pig all the year round ; on
the contiary, beef and mutton are by no means rare, besides almost
everyone luis a Hock of geese and turkeys (ducks are not so com-
mon) but there is no end to chickens.

While Mary Ann is at the door, blowing the long tin-horn to call
the men to dinner, let us take a look at the bill of fare.

In the centre of the table, which is covered with tolerable linen,
stiuids the dish of fried bacon, along with another, containing an im-
mense " chunk " of the same meat boiled and cold — the potatoes are
drying in the oven and will not be put on the table till the men sit
down. Even at dinner, we fsiil not to observe the everlasting cups
and saucers — swills of young Hyson, generally without sugar, forming
part of every meal, doubtless, with so much fat pork, it is found
to be a better solvent than cold water. Then there is an abun-
dance of good homebaked bread, one or two varieties of cake, a
pumpkin-pie, " apple sass " seasoned with allspice, pickled beets
and a raw onion or two.

The thrifty Canadian housewife has always a reserve of dried
fruit for winter use. Wild strawbeiries, raspberries and other
small fruit grow in prodigious quantities in every old clear-
ing, fence-corner, or wherever there is an open space not otherwise
occupied. These are gathered in their proper season, generally by
the young folks, and when dried in the sun on boards, or in the
oven in pans, are carefully laid past in jars. All they require to
prepare them for the table is a little sugar and boiling water.
Other larger fruits, and some vegetables, pumpkins for instance, are
dried in a similar way.

But here are the men, Pap, and his three sons, named respective-
ly, Pete, Hen, and Gust., or duly, Peter, Henry and Augustus.
Pap has a thoughtful look in his face, and is now a. little stooped
in the shoulders, for " he has seen some hard times, has Pap."
The boys are fine, brawny sensible looking fellows, in the prime
of their youth and strength, free and erect, not afraid to look you
straight in the face. They have been in the bush since morning
chopping, and so every day for the last two months, for they are
going to add ten acres to the clearing this next spring. We shall
see them at work in a little.

Shortly after dinner, of which we have he^n cordially invited
to partake, we are brought to see the barn and barnyard on the

52 THE backwoods' LIFE.

other side of the lane, and down from the liouse a little. The bam,
like the house, stands in from the lane a few yards, to allow the
teams to turn, and the gin of the threshing machine to operate.
It is an enormous frame building, 66 x 46 feet and 25 feet from
floor to ridge. In the side, are two great folding doors, admitting
the largest loads of hay and grain, for everything is housed if pos-
sible. We enter upon the floor, which is some 20 feet wide,
roomy enough to hold the threshing machine when it comes round,
and to admit of a little handwork if required for an early grist, or
any odd job. To the right of the floor, is the " mow," occupying
three-fifths of the whole building, from basement to ceiling, and
capable of holding a whole harvest. Here the wheat in the sheaf
is stowed. Oats, barley and buckwheat are piled on the loft
above the floor. On the left, opposite the mow, are the gi-anaries,
six in number, each with a capacity for holding 150 bushels.
Next to the gi-anaries, and at the end of the building, is a very
commodious horse stable, with four double stalls, and two single
ones ; the principal entrance is from the barnyard but there is
also 0, narrow passage communicating with the floor. Above both
stable and granaries, is the hay loft, extending to the ceiling, with
an opening above the rack of each stall. Doors similar to those by
which we first entered, and directly opposite, open into the barn-
yard, so that the teams hauling in gi*ain or hay, enter at one side
and pass out at the other.

The frame barn, of which the above is an ordinary type, is not
often the first in use by the settler. For a few years at first he
has to be content with one built of logs, not quite so large, and
generally wanting both the stable and the granaries, but otherwise,
the same in construction ; all the outlay required being merely for
the shingles, nails, and a few hundred feet of lumber. It is always
within the reach of the poorest settler, who has only to cut the
logs and haul them together, the neighbours never refusing to give
him half a day to raise it. The frame tarn is a different matter,
and can never be undertaken without a little means. It has to be
" laid out " by a regular framer who gets about a dollar and a half
a day with board, or is paid so much for the job. But the farmer
himself, with good assistance at home, can do a great part of it him-
self, nearly all in fact, after the frame is once up. He may take
his logs to the mill and trade them for sawn lumber ; he may even
make his own shingles, and then have only the nails to buy. Some
commence their preparations two years or so before raising, and
in this way do not feel the burden.

THE backwoods' LIFE. 53

We now pass into the tarn-yard, enclosed on one side by the
bam just described. Two other sides are likewise enclosed by
buildings cornering at right angles with the barn, one of them being
a long cattle-shed with a hay-loft above, having two or three dumb
windows on the inside for throwing out feed to the cattle, the other
being the old barn and stable, now used as a retreat by the cattle
and sheep, which have no other protection from the storms of win-
ter. The side looking to the south is only partly enclosed by what
remains of an immense straw stiick, piled up on a frame of logs
at the threshing last fall. This straw, along with a bottle of hay
morning and evening, a handful of salt now and then, with plenty
of pure sweet spring water from the creek hard by, is all that Mr.
Gates allows his cuttle in winter. There are many warm nooks
and comers about such a barn-yard, no doubt, but it may well be
supposed that even bovine patience gets tired of it before the long
winter is over, and that even the " leeks " a week or two after the
snow melts, are a welcome sight after five months' " stonn feeding."

The sheep and pigs have the pea-straw in addition, which is not
too carefully threshed ; the former nibble away at the leaves, the
latter pick out the last pea in the heap, and then build a nest with
the straw, all in tolerable good humour until it comes to the point
of deciding which have to lie outside.

With the exception of the horses, Mr. Gates's stock is very little
better than stoim fed. He has an idea, very common in the back-
woods, that it makes the cattle hardy when they have to winter
out. But see the poor animals in the Spring, you can count every
bone in their body, and it is far on in the summer before they be-
gin to look like themselves. The settler often loses a whole year
by his oxen "giving out" in the Spring, from not being sheltered
and cared for during the winter.

Our friend Gates' stock includes some six or seven cows, three or
four heifers, a yoke of oxen well broken in, some young steers that
will soon be able to work, two span of horses, two or three colts,
some twenty or thirty sheep, and any quantity of pigs and poultry.
In every instance, however, the breed is inferior, for no attempt
has ever been made to improve it. Mr. Gates is not one of your
model farmers; his motto is to "git along" in a tolerable way.
He has never got the length of a root-house yet, and he could easily
have spared a few acres for root crops, but this year he liad only a
small turnip patch, and about three quarters of an acre of potatoes.
The turnips never were lifted, for, when the feed got scarce in the
Fall, the cattle were tumed into the field, and before the crop was

54 THE BACKWOODS' LIFE.

half used the frost set in. The potatoes were pitted in the field
where tliey grew, away at the end of the clearing, and when the
few that were first brought home to the kitchen cellaf were used,
the family had to do without them till the pits could be opened.
The prudent farmer sets a high value on his root-house, and, by hav-
ing it well stocked in the Fall, provided he has anything like good
stable accommodation, he need not be afiiiid of the hardest winter,
besides with very little extra trouble he may have some beef cattle
fatted for the Spring market.

Some have their root-houses under the bam in the form of an
underground cellar, with stone walls, on which the whole building
rests. This is a very good plan. Others excavate the side of a
knoll or embankment, where the land near the stable affords the
like; but Mr. Gates, although his buildings were situate on an
elevation, shelving off towards a creek which ran through his pro-
perty, and every way adapted for such a purpose, had either never
thought of it or set it down as one of those things that " don't pay"
— a common saying in the backwoods — but very often used in
ignorance, and to cloak a want of spirit and enterprise.

By the way, one of the finest things on the Gates's property was
the never failing spring creek above alluded to, running through
the whole of the clearing, as well as the rear bush part of the lot.
It was a " bonnie bum," ever crooning to the cedars that dipped
their fingers in its pearly waters, and might have been a great deal
more to its owners than " a fine thing for cattle." One would have
almost imagined that they bore a sort of grudge against it. Had
it been content with anything like reasonable bounds or walked
peaceably along in a straight line, there might have been less said,
but like a young romp it would have its own way, regjirdless of
how much land it broke up in its frolics. This was notliing, how-
ever, to one of its cantrips, for just as it cleared the bfick hundred,
a short distance from the rear concession line, it jumped laughing
over a precipice twenty feet high, turning the water-wheel of a
small carding and fulling mill, the rent of which built Steve Foster's
frame house and helped to pay for the land.

The bam and barn-yard are all the sights about the place at this
time of the year, unless we go down to the fallow with the boys
and see the chopping. They are well on %vith their ten acres, so
we can have an idea of what they have been doing dui-irig the last
two months ; and it will be worth while to see them handle the axe,
for they can do it to perfection.

As we get to about the end of the clearing, we notice that the

THE backwoods' LIFE. 55

land rises into little rounded knolls, and on approaching the fallow
from the lane, the creek which has hitherto pursued a very devious
course, is observed to split into two, as if to chisp in its embrace
one of the largest knolls, which it does so completely as to form a
perfect island, the scene of the winter's chopping — now however
only a few trees are left standing along the side next the road ; the
rest of the timber lies strewn around apparently in the utmost
confusion, among heaps of brush and small limbs ; but the initi-
ated would not fail to observe a certain method in the milst of all
the disorder, for the experienced chopper having always a good
notion of the conditions essential to a first-rate "bum," lays his
timber accordingly. The brush heaps are piled with the same end
in view. Forust trees, from being so close together, do not branch
out on the stems, but make amends, in the abundant ramification
of the top, where there is no restraint. On being chopped, they
come to the ground with tremendous force, when the trunk is
cut into convenient lengths for logging, and the top which is often
smashed to pieces in the fall, is dressed, that is, the unbroken limbs
and stumps of limbs, are cut off", and with the loose fragments ly-
ing around are piled close together, so as to bum well.

Having di.^posed of the few small hemlocks along the stream,
there is nothing left standing on the island but the stumps, and
one enormous rock elm right in the centre, left to the last, in ex-
pectation perhaps that, when deprived of the support and shelter
of its neighbours, some vigorous nor- wester might be kind enough
to take it down, and save two or three hours' hard work chopping,
for the monster is fully five feet at the butt.

"Since he has stood so long, why not let him alone, to ornament
the island?" , ,. . ,

But the boys know better.

" He's got to come down, and if he don't come now he may
when we don't want him."

"I guess" says another of the boys, "he wont be no great job
neither, for I bet you he's as hollow's a drum," So, agreeing
where he is to "lay," they set themselves to chop it down, one op-
posite the other on the same side, and so, one right and the other
left handed. It is soon seen that Gust was not far wrong in his
estimate — fair and stately as the giant seemed outside, he was as
rotten as a mushroom at the core. There is still a good shell of
wood however, sufficient to keep the axes going a good half hour
at least, no ! not so long, the leviathan leans a little atop, and needs
all his rind to keep him perpendicular; suddenly the choppers

5G THE backwoods' life.

cease, certain sure signs, plain enough to them, betoken the end ;
still there is no hurry the boys have calculated where he is to "lay,"
and retire leisurely from the butt to enjoy the sight, for it is a
sight, even to the backwoodsman accustomed to it. How calmly
he bends his lordly head, down ! down ! the mighty has fallen !
what a crash ! Broken in the back, shivered in every limb, his
plunge in the fallow has tossed up a thick spray of brush high into
the air. Gust remarks, with some philosophy, that it is "much
easier to take a tree down than to put one up.'

There is not a great deal of danger from tne falling of the trees
in an ordinary way, as there is always time to get away from the
butt to a safe distance, but one has to be careful of loose limbs
dropping down from above. A certain excitement attaches to
chopping which does not belong to ordinary dull labour, and con-
sequently a good axeman prefers it to almost any other kind of
work, in the winter at least. It is too warm work for summer,
otherwise it would be the better time, as the w^ood is much softer,
and the foliage although it would greatly obstruct the chopper,
would be of considerable service in burning up the loose stuff pre-
paratory to logging. A good hand will often cut an acre in a
week, and earn from six to seven dollars with board, but, as be-
fore mentioned, it is more usual to have the chopping done by con-
tract.

"Forest management," in some older countries, is reduced to a
system, in which the policy is strictly Conservative, but with us
in the backwoods, and indeed through nearly the whole of Canada,
it consists in stupid extermination. The doom of every standing
stick with the exception of the sugar-bush, and the cordwood re-
serve, is to be cut down and cast into the fire. A stranger is
struck with the monotonous appearance of the country, walking
along a concession line, not a tree relieves the eye except the uni-
form belt of woods in the rear of the clearings. How much
better it would be to have the house and outbuildings surrounded
by a grove, as well as a few trees scattered over the fields or in
the fence comers, which would not only be an ornament to the
landscape, but serve as a screen from the scorching heat of sum-
mer, and a ■wind-break to the cold sweeping blasts of winter.

If th ire was not a difficulty in the way of reserving odd timber
here and there, the wholesale system of destruction practiced,
would indicate an amount of ignorance and bad tiiste truly
lamentable, but there is a difficulty, and the poor settler, strug-
gling to make a living, has very little inclination to grapple with

THE backwoods' LIFE. 57

it. In the first plaoe, only a few forest trees, when left standing
alone, will hear exposure to any strong blast of wind, unless they
have had time to take firmer hold of the ground, which will not
be until after they have had a few shakings in their unprotected
state.

Then, in order to reserve a clump or grove, the greatest care has
to be taken to prevent the fire getting near it ; the leavef and the
brush have all to be removed to a distance, and the fallow burned
in patches, which involves much additional labour, for it is a great
object to get a "good burn," and the dryest time, with a favourable
wind being chosen, there is often a perfect tornado of fire, which
licks up everything except the heavy logs.

But the diflSculty ought to be nothing to one who is in any
position at all to grapple with it. He might proceed in this way :
Commencing midway on the front of his lot, let him open up a
lane of two or three hundred yards in length by fifteen in breaclth ;
at a convenient point on one side, where he intends to build
his house, let him thin out the trees less capable of becom-
ing shady and ornamental, to any extent he may think })roper,
the same on the other side where he intends to raise the barn and
stables ; also, along both sides of the lane, from its commencement
on the road, let him thin out in the same way a strip of some ten
or twelve yards in width, And now he is to proceed with his
regular chopping. Commencing at the front, on one side of the
lane, he cuts everything clean down to the thinned out portion
where the house is to stand, making a field of say, five acres. If
he can manage to have the same thing done on the other side of
the lane all the better. Let him now watch his opportunity, and
bum the brush heaps in both fallows, selecting not too dry a time.
This done, he must go to work and remove the brush heaps from
the lane and the thinned out portions into the fallows on each
side, where there will now be more room to move about. A
second fire completes the burning up of the loose stuff. The next
operation will be the logging and burning of the heavy timber in
each of the fallows, including that of the lane and the thinnings,
which must be hauled out.

In this way, throughout the whole clearing, there might be re-
serves for shade and ornamental trees, and the lane, with its shel-
tering belt of woods, might be extended to the rear of the lot. In
a few years it would be a delightful avenue.

Mr. Gates's lot is a two hundred acre one, and when this winter's
chopping is through, he will have ] 20 acres of a clearing ; 50 acres

58 THE backwoods' life.

of the balance, fronting tlie concession in tlie rear, now belong to
one of the boys, who has a small clearing on it. Ho is going^ to
put a house up, and get some one to keep it for him soon. Pap
will not clear any more on his side for some time to come, indeed
he has more land now than he can attend to. Towards the front,
the fields are entirely free of stumps, and in a few years there will
be 100 acres in a stretch, having tlio appearance of an old farm.
One would think that havinj' no debts to speak of, no rent to ^ ay,
Pap might be a rich man ; but rich man and poor farmer don't
usually go together. Our friend has been in the liabit of treating
Jiis land nmcli in the .same way Jis he treats his cattle, takes all he
can get, and gives as little sis he can. That fields as well as cattle
require to l>e fed, and their fotxl regulated to their wants and uses,
savours too much of book-larming to have much weight with Pap.
Another man with the .same industry, and a little more chemistry,
could hardly help making a small fortune on such a farm.

" February fill the dyke," is a true proverb in Canada. The last
of the winter months with us, it is perhaps not so cold Jis January,
but is more stormy sus a general thing. The snow luus gathered to
a depth of from two to three feet on the level, and what now falls
is mostly drifted, filling up the numerous lanes, and sometimes the
main roads fence high. Chopping is carried on at a great disad-
vantage. In fact, from the beginriing of the month, on till sugar-
making, there is not much out-door work done in the back town-
ships. The settler who is just commencing operations, and has to
do all his own chopping and clearing up, will have an nmch of a
fallow cut as he can well attend to in the Spring and fore part of
the Summer. He luus leisure now, if ho has the ingenuity to do a
great many little jobs by the fire-side that will save both time and
money afterwards. The man who luis worked himself into easier
circumstances, will now think nothing of making a trip to the city,
or on a visit to some distant part of the country He may take
his team with a light load of dressed hogs, or his cutter and favor-
ite trotter. Nothing he prides himself in more than his marc's
mettle. Wrapped in butfalo-robe, with fur cap and gauntlet mits,
riding ten miles an hour. What is winter to him but the perfection
of enjoyment ?

" 0, swift wo go o'or the fluecy suotr,
When moonhuams Bparkle roiin<i,
When hoofs koup time to oiusio's chimo
, As merily ou wo bouiul." ,

Now is the time for visiting, merry-making, protnicted meetings

THE backwoods' LIFE. 59

magic-luntem exhibitions, phrenological and temperance lectures.
Scarcely a night Imt there is something going on at the school-
house. The tnistees are very good natured, and make no objec-
tions, but the teacher next morning is not so well pleased with the
state of aff ail's.

Such is the round of life on through February, and now people
begin their preparations for sugar-making.

Pap has just lighted the lires on a hne March morninj', and
stepped out to the bam-yird to look at the cattle arid give them a
bottle of hay and a handful of salt, of which they are v ery fond at
this time of the year. The boys are putting on their boots at the
stove in the kitchen.

" Is Pap a-going to hunt up them old .;ap ti'ough.s to-day, I won-
der ?"

" I guess — I'm a-going to the swamp for a stick to mak* spiles."

" They ain't none of them sap troughs worth the picking up,
"laying" there all .summer. I wish Pap would buy a lot of them
cedar buck<its, we'd have to look after them, I guess."

Here Pap him.self comes in, and orders Gust and Pete to gather
as many troughs as they can find, and get them washed out. Hen
is to hitch up the old span, take the bob-sleigh, and bring home a
good cedar, along with a number of basswood logs, lying at the rear
of the lot. They have no l)lack aah on their land, so they will have
to do with l)a.sswood to make their troughs. It has the advantage
of being easily wrought, but being very porous, the inside of the
trough is sometimes charred to make it hold in, wiiich tells how-
ever upon the colour of the sugar.

It is very stupid of Pap not to look after his trough.^ a little bet-
ter. He might have brought them home to ^he barn or j)iled them
under cover in the bush, which would have been easier a great
deal than making new ones, or hunting the old ones among the
snow after their being kicked and tumbled ab(mt all summer.

Some who go into the sugar business in earnest have a stock of
small hooped cedar or pine buckets, which, at wholesale, are not so
very expensive, and will last a life-time if regularly brought home
and piled away out of the sun as soon as sugar-making is over.
They keep the sap clean, and that improves the colour of the sugar.
But the best saj^-holdors arc made of tin ; they ai(^ very handy,
can easily be kept clean, and do not cost so much after all.

Every year Pap had to make some scores of the old fashioned
kind. But as he was wont to remark, " What's the odds a man
makin' a few troughs when he kin do nothing else." The logs

60 THE backwoods' LIFE.

selected for the purpose are usually a foot in diameter. They are
cut into lengths of about two feet ; each cut is split into two and
then hollowed out with the axe. The Gates's, all hands at work,
will make three or four score of them in a couple of days. Look-
ing in at the bam, where they are busy at them, we observe two
of the boys sawing the logs into proper lengths with the large
cross-cut saw. Pap is splitting the cuts, and Hen is working at
the spiles. He has a block of cedar about a foot in length from
which he is slivering off pieces with an instiiiment made for the
purpose, and resembling a large gouge, which leaves its curve at the
end ; the rest of the sliver takes more or less of the groove, making
it a good channel for the sap to run into the trough lying at the
root of the tree.

Mr. Gates expects to tap in a day or two. It might not do to
begin on the first fine day ; there must be some reliable indication
of a spell of the right weather — clear sunshine, with a light wind
after a night's moderate frost — hit that and you will have a glori-
ous run.

The omens being considered favourable, Pap sets out in the morn-
ing with his axe and dexterously cuts a "nick" about an inch
deep in the butt of each maple. Hen follows with the spiles,
which he fixes in the tree just below the nick, first driving in the
gouge to make way for them ; a trough is then placed under the
drop and th& tapping process is completed. It is a very barbarous
one and the trees cannot stand it long. A hole three quarters of
an inch deep, made with an inch auger, would be just as good a
tap, and if plugged up with clay, after sugar-making, would heal
completely up, and the tree be none the woi-se.

If it happens to be the right kind of sugar- weather the sap will
hardly take time to drop, there will be a tiny stream from noon till
nearly dark, and the troughs will need to be emptied. Mary Jane
and her sister will have to be at hand to cany the sap to the store-
trough, a huge vessel standing beside the boilei*s, and resembling a
large canoe, being the hollowed out trunk of a monstrous black
ash, brought with much ado from the swale away on another con-
cession. Carrying the sap is pretty hard work in the deep snow,
for the sugar bush extends a good way all around the store-trough
and has never been cleared up, so that a sleigh could move about
and make the collections. But the girls make no complaints, and
never take cold although their boots are often full of snow.

If to-morrow's run promises fair the boys will have the fire start-
ed and the kettles hung betimes in the morning. The fire is built

THE backwoods' LIFE. 61

against a " back log," which is renewed as often as required. The
kettles hold from ten to twenty gallons, and are hung from the
handles on hooks suspended from a cross beam resting on two fork-
ed sticks. The boiling now commences and goes on all day, fresh
sap being constantly added in small quantities. One sees that it
does not boil over, another chops wood for the fire, and the girls
see to collecting and carrying the sap to the store-trough. Towards
evening, they allow it to boil down to synip, when it is taken off,
cooled and strained. It is now in the form of molasses. Maple
molasses ! the most delicious syrup in the world, not excepting the
heather honey itself To make sugar the syrup has to be boiled
down till it answers the test, that is, till it breaks when spread on
the snow.

Before leaving the bush this second night, the boys have boiled
down the most of the two day's run and " sugared-off " besides,
taking home with them seventy or eighty pounds of good brown
sugar, and a pailful of molasses. If they can go on at this rate for
other eight or ten days there will be no lack of " sweetening" for one
year at least. What a treasure to the housewife, a twenty gallon
keg of the rich amber juice, stowed away in a comer of the cellar,
where it will keep fresh and cool through all the heat of next sum-
mer, and though after harvest it may be getting a little scarce,
there will always be a saucerful on the table, with buckwheat
cakes, when she has anyone to tea whom she delights to honour.

Although sugar-making is rather a profitable speculation, if gone
into properly, Pap, having once seen the young folks fairly started
takes no more ado with it, knowing pretty well that, at certain
times, his company might not be very desirable. There are always
lots of boys and girls, either not in the business themselves, or, if
so, anxious to know how their neighbours are getting on, who
think nothing of a long walk or ride, on a moonlight night, to the
sugar bush. Of course, they always happen to be there at the
"sugaring-off," which winds up the day's performance. It might be
too much to affirm that sugar, however highly relished on this side
the Atlantic, is the only attraction at these gatherings, unless we
have to charge Young Canada with insensibility to the channs
of pretty girls, and the romance of the moonlight hour, under the
shade of majestic trees aglare vt^ith the red light of far blazing fires.
Surely there must be some approach to sentiment in scenes and
circumstances like these.

No doubt Pap is very much pleased at the result of the opera-
tions in the sugar bush this season, but he has had his attention

G2 THE backwoods' life. I

fully engaged in the bam-yard among the cattle and sheep. The
increase in the stock has been large, nearly all the ewes have had
twins, and most of them have been preserved. Along with the
good sugar harvest, this is encouraging to begin the year with. He
is now all alive to the importance of getting a good start with the
Sprint' work, of which the Canadian farmer has so much to do, and
so little time to do it. We find him, therefore, busy overhauling
the ploughs and harrows, cleaning liis seed wheat, and fixing up
harness, subject to considerable tear and wear in a new country.
Time permitting, he intends to cross-plough all the land he went
over in the Fall, and to break up a ten acre field chopped some
eight years ago, and seeded down in grass along with the firat crop
of spring wheat. The stumps, being all hardwood, are now pretty
soft, and he expects to be able to clean it out entirely during the
summer, so cOs to be ready in September for fall wheat. Then he
has to log and bum the ten acre fallow where the boys have been
chopping the most of the winter ; no small job of itself, but he in-
tends having a "bee" and thus put the whole thing through in a
week or so.

There has been no rain to speak of this Spring, and the thaw has
been very gradual ; but now, about the end of sugar-making, the
hill-tops begin to look bare and the roads are breaking up ; the
snow, soiled with dust and travel, looks very unlike that " saintly
veil of maiden white " which five months ago came down to cover
the muddy roads and hide from our weary sight the w ithered leaves
and faded flowers. The sleigh-bell's "runic rhyme" and meiTy
" tintinabulation" which filled the icy air of .the Christmas moon-
light is changed to tuneless clangor. In fact, we are sick and tired
of the whole thing. O! to hear once more the notes of the robin
and bluebird, or even the bullfrog's humble song in the marsh.

It is Sunday, at noon, and the young Gates's, along with a num-
ber of other young men, are on the way home from meeting.

"I say, if we don't hurry up we won't have many more sleigh
rides this season, ' I guess.'"

That's so.

Let's all go to the Corners this evening, their holding protracted
meeting there, I guess. Pap will let us have the colts, I know he
will, and, continues Gust, " let us take the girls along, and have a
jolly good sleigh ride if it is the last."

This proposal, having met with general approbation, they all
agree to start at five o'clock, the Gates's to furnish one team, and
the McKee's another, ', ' , .

THE backwoods' LIFE. 63

The " Corners," where the protracted meeting was going on, was
a place some six or seven miles distant. The intersection of con-
cession lines with side-lines, at intervals of from two to three miles,
forms, all over a township, what are called Corners. In a rising
settlement it is an object to have one of the comer lots, for the
owner has the advantage of a road on two sides, and if the place
should happen to grow to any importance, it will be here it will
begin, and in the usual way, with a tavern, a blacksmith's shop,
and so on. At the Cornel's referred to, not only were these signs
of growth manifest, but several one acre lots had been taken up
and built upon. There was also a large school house which, as in
most new settlements, was used as a place of worship. The vari-
ous Methodist denominations had held " protracted meetings" in it
during the winter, each in turn. The one going on at present was
conducted by the " Noo Connexion," a body which had only re-
cently sought representation in this part of the country, and hav-
ing, as yet, only a limited influence, had been obliged to content
itself with the privilege of the school house on Sunday^ and other
evenings, after the Wesleyans, the Primitives, and the Episcopal-
ians were done with it. The " effort " which had been inaugurat-
ed only a week or two ago, was therefore a little out of season, and
would soon have to come to an end, owing to the state of the roads,
indeed, this was understood to be the last night. The "Noo Con-
nexion" could hardly be said to have made nmch head-way at the
Comers. Its apostle, having been rather injudiciously selected,
never acquired any popularity. His " appointment" was every al-
ternate Sunday, in the middle of ihc day, but having managed to
obtain the use of the school house for a few nights, he did his
best to provoke a reviA'al, but the more immediate residents of the
place, kept sullenly aloof, and looked upon the whole thing in a
very anti-noo connexion light indeed. The prejicher got discour-
aged and left. " A more gospel-hardened set he had never come
across." His successor, a Mr. Baskerton, had more hope, and man-
fully resolved that the " appointment" should not be abandoned.
Having made his appearance as a Sunday' evening lecturer, during
a short interregnum of the Primitives, and at a time when the
roads were good, he commanded large audiences. Encouraged thus
to persevere, he waited his opportunity, and at length armounced
his intention of making a protracted effort before the roads broke up.

Exactly at five o'clock, Gust has the colts hitched up, and the
buffalo-robes in the sleigh, "All aboard" is the signal, the girls
jump in, and away they go. At the Bell's and the Austin's they

64 THE backwoods' life.

pick up other two girls, and now the Gates's party consists of eight,
a sufficent load in the present state of the roads, which, in the
clearings, especially on the south slopes, are nearly bare, McKee's
team is a little way ahead. The girls anxiously remind Gust of
several places where he will have to be careful with his skittish
colts. The School hill is one of them. It is rather a steep one, and
at the foot the road narrows considerably, winding round the face
of a hill on one side, wath a somewhat formidable hollow or gully
on the other, now well filled with drifted snow. Loaded teams
coming down the hill, and slackening pace too soon, had often
swung around, and even been known to tip over at the entrance to
this narrow passage. In fact the school hill had such a bad repu-
tation that the girls knowing Gust's Jelunstic propensities, made
it conditional upon their going, that he should stop when they
came to it, and allow them to walk over ; but Gust had no inten-
tion of keeping his word. On they went full speed till they reached
the slope, which from being hard packed with the children sliding
down on boards and little hand sleighs, was one sheet of ice, and the
horses' feet — not now so sharp as they had been, the descent
was anything but agi'eeable. For Gust to stoj), or the girls
to jump out was now impossible. Since noon, a mass of snow had
fallen from the embankment above where the road began to nar-
row, obstructing the passage, the other team had got safely over
it, but the colts, on coming up to the heap stood stock still all of a
sudden, round went the sleigh, and out poured the whole freight
down the sides of the gully. Fortunately Gust stuck to the lines,
and before the sleigh had time to tip completely over, put the
whip on, and was right in a minute.

An upset in the snow is seldom attended with very serious con-
sequenses, all the harm done in this case was to the girls' caps and
ribbons, which being set to rights with far more laughing than
lamentation, the journey was resumed.

The most of the way now led through the bush where the
sleighing was tolerably good. Here they enjoyed themselves sing-
ing the common camp-meeting hymns "I'm a pilgriui," "I love
Jesus," "Happy day," &c., &c. Thus without any new adventure
they arrived in due time at the Corners, and tying up the horses
in the shed adjoining the school-house, putting a blanket on each,
and throwing them some hay, the whole party entered and took
seats. Mr. Baskerton was just giving out the first hymn, t '.. j

1 y !nt''->TrJ\ 'ilil "Come holy Spirit heavenly dove t/r. i :>,. ,(}[ ([ii^l.''
With all thy quick' ning powers. "

THE backwoods' LIFE. 65

Tlie whole hymn was read with a running comtncntaiy or exhortji-
tion, " Let no heart be steeled agamst divine impressions this
night ; it might be the last opportunity some of them would have.
The Spirit would be here in great power, he had prayed, his
brethren had prayed, and something whispered to his heart that
the answer would come. Hitherto he had been trusting too much
to his own efforts, but to-night, all hi.s trust would be in the
salvation of God."

After singing the hymn, in whieli the congregation joined, there
was the usual j)rayer and reatling of the Scriptures ; then another
hymn, and the preacher announced his subject — The hrodigal Son.

"It was an old story he had just read, but the thing itself was
ever new. There were prodigals now, as well as then. He knew
of one that was present at this very meeting — would they like to
be told his history ? It was this. He was the son of godly i)arents,
but took to bad company and the wajs of unrighteousness.
At length he left his home and his father's house, .and came to the
land of the stranger. All restraint being now withdrawn, he
abandoned himself to riot and excess. But the eye of Omnipo-
tence was watching over him, his mother's j)rayers and tears Avere
not forgotten. He got religion where other young prodigals might
get it, if they had a mind — ;just at such a meeting as the present
where he had gone to scoff, but remained to tremble and to pray." It
came out in the end that the })reacher w;is merely giving his own
experience. In this way was the "Prodigal Son" illustrated; but
the Methodists do not count much on preaching at protracted
meetings, the main dependence being i)laced on the machinery
of the "Penitent Bench" to which an immediate resort was now
made. "Brother Bawkins," a lay instrument, is asked to "lead in
prayer," which he does at the utmost pitch of his voice, the
preacher stands by his side, and calls out in (juite a business style
— " Come forward friends ! Still there is room," or slapping the lay
brother on the back, tells him not to "give in." "Pray on brother
Bawkins, bring him down, down through the roof, I'll pay for
the shingles."

But it is up-hill work. These dull Cornerites would not be
moved. In fact, the most of them were young people, and they
had all the time been talking to one another, as indifferent to what
was going on, as they well could be. Gust, who was sitting along
with his party, sometimes listening, but oftencr talking, like the
rest, now rises, and slowly pushing his way through the crowd,
makes for the door, but gets pidled up by the preacher in the fol-

GO THE backwoods' LIFE.

lowing manner. "I see a young man turning a deaf ear to the
voice of warning. I say, young man, take the trouble to count
your steps as you leave this place, and when you have numbered
ten, say to yourself, ' I'm ten steps nearer hell.' "

There was something almost maledictory in the tone in which
this was spoken, so that its effect upon Gust was anything but what
the preacher intended. Smarting under the stroke, which had
been so palpable and, as he thought, undeserved, for he was only
going out for a moment to look at the horses, he turned round to
where he had left his friends, and almost shouted that he was
"a-going," upon which they all rose up and left the meeting. In
a few minutes they were in their seats in the sleigh, and if Mr.
Baskerton had been listening to the conversp.tion which enlivened
the journey homeward it might h«ave been a lesson to him in the
management of future protracted meetings.

It is far from my intention to speak disrespectfully of the Metho-
dists, or their mission in the back townships. They are a great
body, and their agents are of every degree of intelligence, and
fitness for the difficult work they have to do. Of course it is not
to be expected that they will send their best men among the
humble settlers of the back towoiships ; and yet it would be well
that they did so occasionally, if only to correct the mistakes of
weaker and less discreet brethren. The effect upon children and
young people of such demonstrations as the above is anything but
hopeful. Brought up in the atmosphere of protracted meetings,
which they never fail to attend, hearing and seeing all that goes
on and contrasting it with the reality of actual life, there is often
a great temptation to make a profane travesty of the whole thing.

The Methodists are the pioneers of Christianity, but as the
country gets settled up, other denominations come in. The Canada
Presbyterian Church, in affinity with the Free Church of Scotland,
is now well represented in the back townships, but seldem enters
the field on mere speculation, requiring of ite adherents a certain
guarantee of support, in which case it sends a student during the
summer ; and if by his exertions a congregation is formed, there
will be in due time a resident pastor.

At length the snow has all disappeared, not as in the case of a
sudden thaw, leaving the sod bleached white, the rivers full, and
the roads knee-deep in mud and slush — the sun, the chief agent
this year in bringing about the Spring, has done the work gradu-
ally. Operations in the sugar bush have come to an end, for the
sap, if it still continues to drop a little, flarors of the life of the tree,

THE BACKWOODS LIFE.

and is uselass except perhaps for vineffar, which, by the way, is an
article of no small con.' ideratum in the cuisne of the Canadian
housewife, who has always such lots of beets and onions to pickle,
not to speak of the small fruits she has to preserve, which, with
vinegar and spices, do not require anything like the quantity of
sugar used in the ordinary way, and are nevertheless so good.

"Now — from the Htately elms wo hear
The Blue Bird prophesying Spring."

The Robin too, best known bird of the Canadian woods, is bogin-
ing, a little clumsily at first, to try his .scales. Add to these, the
Chickadee and the "Canary," one or two Thnishes, .several species
of Wotlpeckers, the Blue Jay and the Wliip-[)Oor-wi]l, and the list
of Canadian birds that will at first attract the ordinary settler is
completed. They are all favourites, but I can stop to describe only
one or two.

Blue Bobbie makes his ap|)earance on the tirst ajjproach to gonial
weather, often before the snow disappears. A cold "snap" of a
day or two, may drive him back to the shelter of a dee]) glen, only
to reappear in better spirits when the storm is over. His whole
upper surface is a rich azure with purple reflections, excepting the
shaft feathers of the wing and tail, which are jetty black, con-
trasting beautifully with the blue. The breast and belly are of a
reddish hue ending in white at the abdomen. The hen has similar
tints, but not so bright. Blue Bobbie lives on caterpillars, worms
and spiders, of which he devours great numbers, thus earning his
right to a few cherries in the fall, altliough there are those that
grudge him the treat.

We have a whole tribe of Thrushes, of which the best known
are the Song-Thrush and the Robin, so called, very unlike his
pugnacious little namesake at home, all the resemblance being
nis red breast, and a certain confidence in himself which brings
him nearer the dwellings of man than most other birds. He is a
true thrush however, and sings a very sweet artless song, some of
the notes not unlike those of the Song-Thrush. He is one of the
earliest warblers in Spring. The nest, plastered inside with mud,
with Ave pretty green eggs, is often built in the orchards. In
size, he is three times lai^er than his old country namesake.
Every boy knows his yellow bill, ashy brown back, black wings,
edged with ash, and the deep orange colour of his breast. He too
professes to live on worms and caterpillars, but some people think
ne is altogether too fond of cherries. That eminent plnlosopher,

G8 THE backwoods' life.

Josh Billings, who appeal's to have suffered from his depreda-
tions, speaks of liim in these terms :

" The red-brestid robbing is a burd nmchly doted onto by semi-
nairy girls and poits.

" Gentlemen fanners also encurridgc the robbing because he
swallers insex vrhen he can't get sno nor northing else to eat.

" But practiekle farmci*s and fruit growists begin to don't see it.

" I was onet a gentleman farmist.

" I am not so gentle as I was,

" I go in for real fanning, making my pile of mauoor, and raising
things to eat.

" I used to listen for the robbing's lay and his evening carrol,
but I found out that he singed only to seduce femail robbings; and
that where he et 5 insex he et quaiixs of cherries, strawberries, cur-
rants, rastberries, and ceterer, and then pitched into the mellerest
bartlett pairs.

" I found that my fruit crop agreed too well with Mr. robbing's
crop.

'* He's wobbling to his femail friends at evening — did not pay
for his gobbling choice fruit all day.

" And so my friends when the swete red-brest gets fat on the
eggspensif products of northern gardings and Hocks southward to
fill unsentimental pot pies I bid him adoo without regret."

Mr. Billings here refers to the melancholy fate which awaits
numbers of the pretty thieves when they leave their northern
home for a winter in the south. It seems they are very fond of
the hemes of a tree called the Pride of India, which is extensively
cultivated for ornament and shade in some parts of Georgia and
Florida. Its fruit has such an intoxicating effect upon them that
they can neither fly nor sit upon the branches, but fall down quite
helpless, in which state the coloured people gather them in large
quantities and make them into pot-pies which they esteem a very
savory dish. If left alone, it appears, they soon get all right again,
but unfortunately, like too many of a superior order of existence,
they do not leani wisdom by experience.

The fields ploughed in the Fall are now working off the frost ;
the soil heaves up like yeast, and the clods melt into jelly — ^too
soon to put the plough in yet ; a few days' drying, however, will
greaitly change the look of things, except in those fields where the
surface water has no other way of getting off but by the slow pro
cess of evaporation. It had often been suggested to Mr. Gates that
a good ditch or two on some part of his land would be of service,

THE backwoods' LIFE. 69

but until last year ho had dispensed, not only with drainage of this,
or any other sort, but also with spring ploughing to any great ex-
tent, his usual practice being to harrow in the seed where he had
ploughed in the Fall ; this year, however, having adopted a sys-
tem of drainage sufficient to carry off the surface water at least, he
was prepared to give some of his fields a going over again before
seeding.

Nothing can be done in the fallow for more than a month yet ;
it is all ready for the match, but it must first be in a condition to
bum. It will also be a week or two before they can touch the
stumps in the ten-acre field which Pap intends to clear up and plough
for fall wheat this summer ; the frost lingei's long about the roots,
holding them down with the rigour of iron, but once out, the stump-
ing can be done to advantage after the expansion and subsequent
upheaval. Ploughing will therefore bo the first regular work they
can go at ; they have two good horse teams now, as well as a yoke
of oxen. The boys do not like to handle the latter in the plough,
so that Pap himself will have to take them ; but he is well accus-
tomed to their slow gait, and remembers when he head nothing
else, either for the plough or the harrow. The man who has to
make his living out of his land from the commencement, cannot
aftbrd, like the Raymonds, to seed it down for six or seven years,
but must keep working away at it, giving the stumps a wide birth
at first, but every ploughing helps to break up the roots and hasten
the final clearing. All this is done with the help of oxen better
than with that of horses.

In the early part of the Spring, if the roads are .at all passable,
our friends indulge themselves in a day or two's fishing. At this
season of the year the streams communicating with the lakes are
literally alive with mullet and suckers.

" Each creek and bay vrith fry ennunicrable swarm."

In their efibrts to fiscend the rivers the fish huddle one another
so thick that they may be lifted out by the bushel. The usual
practice is to troll with a bunch of large hooks tied together, some
of which are sure to stick when the short stout line, attached to
the end of a pole, is pulled through the crowd. If the first rush,
which only lasts a day or two, is over, the sportsman has recourse
to the spoar. This is not such a wholesale })rocess, but the sport
is, if anything, better.

The young Gates's, with two or three others, having decided up-
on a day's recreation, set out with the light waggon early in the

70 THE backwoods' LIFE.

iiionnng,takin;Tcaro to be provided with all necessary apparatus and
conveniences — a lot of dry cedar bark fortorches.trollinglines.spears
and sj)ear-])oles, 1 lags to hold the fish, &c. After a long ride through
the mud, and over the "corduroy," they arrive at a tavern con-
venient to the place where they expect to commence operations.
Here they put up their tired horses tor the night, and refresh them-
selves with supper. Meeting with others on the same errand, they
learn that their sport will have to be with the spear, as the first
nish of the fish is over. This is a little discouraging, nevertheless
they prepare to make the best use of the time at their disposal.
The creek they propose to try is only a short distance from the
tavern, and is well adapted for night sport, as the banks are low
and free from shrubs. The bottom is muddy, and there are plenty
of pools, not too deep, where it will be easy to drive the fish with
the glare of the torches. At first the lx)ys make a good many
misses from want of practice, but they soon get into the right
fling, and seldom fail to strike their game. It is glorious fun all
though the moonlight night, under the sheltering dwarf beeches,
overhung with the 'gadding vine.' At length, tired out with their
sport, and having as many fish as each can conveniently carry,
they wend their way back to the tavern, and after breakfast, and
an hour or two's rest, prepare for the joume'^'^ homeward, time
being too precious at this season to admit of a .other day's sport.
There is another kind of sport at this time of the year, not so
seasonable or lawful, but often more profitable than fishing. The
game laws of Canada wisely prohibit the killing of deer at cer-
tain seasons, but nobody ever thought of their being enforced at
Coming's mills, wliere almost every settler used to have his rifle
and a "salt log" in the rear of his lot, and did not scruple at a shot
whether in season or not, least of all in the Spring of the year,
when it could be got so handy. Taking advantage of the natural
craving for .salt, which the deer in common with cattle, shee}) and
horses, have at this season especially, they select a quiet sjwt in
the bush, in the rear of their lot, where finding the tnink of a
tree which has lain a year or two, they bore a few holes in it with
a large auger, and fill them with salt. In a short time the deer
find it out, and visit it regularly. A point is then chosen, about
a hundred yards from the log, where a screen of brush is put up,
behind this the himter sits with his rifle at full cock, ready to blaze
away when a chance offers. A path, ascending towards the screen
if possible, has to be kept clear of leaves, and the utmost precau-
tion observed in approaching, as the least flutter or scent will be

THE backwoods' LIFE. 71

telegraphed to the log, in which caae the hunter may as well
turn back. The best time to go Ih just before daylight in the
morning, with the wind from the log, when, if the game ia there,
one can hardly misH. It is best to aim at the shoulder, and
even then I have known them to run a long way before they
dropt.

But to return to our Spring work. During the two day.s the
boys were absent on their fishing excursion, Pap has been busy
fixing up tho fences, blown down since la.st fall. The common
"worm "-fence in use all over this country, and in the United
States, on timbered lands, consists of "mils" lai«l zigzag at an
angle of about 25°, the ends resting alternately on one another.
The rails are about ten feet in length, and matle of cedar, if it can be
had, for it splits easily, and being of a rosinous nature, will hist
almost a lifetime. It is a very light wood however, and requires
bracing at the corners, which is sometimes done by an upright
stake on each side, capped on the top with a cross-piece, having a
hole at each end for the top of the stakes to enter. A fence of
this description will stand a pretty severe .storm, but it is the
fewest number that go to so much trouble, being content with a
rail prop, consisting of two rails, one on each side the fence, and
crossing each other at the comers, so as to fonu a "crotch," into
which a heavy top rail is put. In the absence of cedar, the next
best is elm, which makes a strong substantial fence, and needs
little propping. It is usual to pick out the logs, from which the
rails are split, when the trees are being chopped in the fallow.
The splittins" is done with wedges, and a heavy wooden mallet shod
with iron. The Gates's, with ten acres of a fallow to fence in this
Spring, will have lots of it to do ; the logs are lying ready, cut
into proper lengths, but they won't be touched until after the fal-
low is logged and burned, as it would take too much time and
labour to remove them from the heaps of brush and other timber.
They may be a little scorched with the first bi-ush fire, but this
will do them very little harm.

Having cross-ploughed all the land fit for working, they tuni
their attention to the stumping of the ten-acre field already re-
ferred to. It has been in grass ever since the first crop of wheat,
not pasture, but real meadow, and has produced some splendid
crops of timothy, all from the first seed. Beginning to run out how-
ever, they have determined to break up the field and have it ready
for fall wheat. The roots have never been stirred by the plough,
and consequently will be less decayed, and firmer in the ground,

72 THE BACKWOODS* LIFE.

than if the field liad been erowped a few times. There are stump-
ing machines in use tliat will take out a .^tump, as easily as a
dentist pulls a tooth, but the one best known in the back town-
ships is the ox team and logging chain, a{)])lied to a gi*eat number of
other useful purjjoses. Havinfj ascertained, by a kick with the foot,
that a stump is likely to move, the chain, which has a hook at the
end of it, is hitohed round the head, the oxen with the other end
of the chain attached to the nock yoke, are i)ut to the "jump,"
and if the first jerk does not bring the stum)), they try another. But
both the spade and the axe have to be used sometimes, <ligging
round the larger roots and cutting them. Thus they go irom
stump to stump, omitting the hemlocks, if there are any, as no ox
power can hope to stir them yet. It U now a fine job for the little
ones, if the settler is blessed with a lot of them, to gather up the
Yooin and fragments, and pile them round the stumps. It h still
better fun to attend to the burning, when the whole has dried
sufticiently ; they may have some hundreds of small bonfires going
at the same time. And now, after the fire hjis cleared away a
good part of the rubbish, but not (piite all the stumps yet, the
{>lough entei"s and breaks up the sod, tuniing up a great many
more roots; these are again piled round the remaining stumps, left
a few days to dry, then, more bonfires.

By the time Pap has got through with his stumping and plough-
ing of this field, the other fields, also ploughed in the meantime, are
ready for the seed. All hands are therefore busy sowing and har-
rowing. This, the most important work of the sejison over, they
are ready tD go into the logging of the largo fallow chopped last
winter, tw is the heaviest job they have on hand, b\it must bo
got through with in time for turnips and potatoes. As a pre{)ani-
tory step, the brush has to be burned. It is now dry enough ; (m
the first favourable wind, therefore, fires are lighted in ditt'erent
parts of the field ; in a few houra the ttames have licked up every
vestige of brush, and a great many of the smaller limbs. A good
buiTi is of the fii-st imjiortance, jus the work of logging is thereby
much easier. It would take several weeks for the CJates's to do all
the logging of their fallow without assistance, and this would throw
them too far behind for a crop of tuniips and potatoes ; so Pap has
deteimined on having a " bee." Gust has been round the neigii-
bours and given the warning. They expect from twenty to thirty
men, and five or six ox teams. If they all work heartily they will
do up the best part of the ten acres in a day. At home, the girls
have been busy for two or three days preparing for the occasion.

THE backwoods' LIFE. 73

Sugar is plentiful, and one of the boys luus managed to kill a good
fat buck at the salt log ; it is a little out of season, but with an
abundance of well preserved bacon and home-smoked ham, they
will be able to set out a pretty respectablo table.

Logging, wliich is, j)erhapH, the hardest work in the clearing up
of wild land, consists in piling the fallen timber in convenient
heaps for burning. The trues have been previously cut into logs
of from ten to fifteen fi '-.t in length. This was done partly in
winter at the time of the chopping, and partly after the burning of
the brush a few days ago. Tne very largo logs, elms |)crhaps, being
inconvenient to move are made the commencement of the heaps ;
the smaller ones, in the immediate neighbourhood, are hauled up
close U) them — one man with a yoke of oxen and chain which is
hitched round the end of the log does this part of the work ; four
others, two at each end, witli handspikes pile the logs on top of
one another. This is what tries a man's mettle, and the ytmng
and foolish often hurt themselves in showing off their strength and
dexterity.

The loggei-s have formed thom.selves into gangs in ditterent parts
of the field, leaving room for each other to work. All sorts of fun,
chafing and racing with one another go on, until noon, when the
horn is blown for dinner, Mary Ann giving it a few of her best
fiourishes, or a stave or two of a camp-meeting tune. She is the
])est hand at the long norn all round tliis part of the country, is
Mary Ann, and when the men are i)raising her pumpkin-pies, her
nmsical performance will not be forgotten.

In the afternoon, the work slackens a little, but still Pap is well
pleiwed with what has been done ; for a couple of days with the boys
and his own team will finish uji the whole thing. A good many
have a prejudice agjiinst bees, and neither go to them (except it
in a raising), nor have them them.selves. They argue, with some
truth, that tne days they have to give in jmyment to each one at-
tending the l)ee, it e worth more to thcni than all the work they get
<lone ; and this may often be the ca.se, especially where a man has
no sons or other help about his place ; still, the advantage of getting
an im|K)rtant piece of work done at on(!e may often l)e so great that
the time given in repayment will not begrudged.

The Gates's have a good cedar-.swamp on their lot, which has
kept them in fences from the start, but this winter the islaml fal-
low bting rich in choice good-splitting elm, a sufficient immber of
logs w«!re cut and left for mils, and while the log-heaps are burning,
they j>ly the mallets antl wedges. The usual practice is to take off

74 THE backwoods' life.

four outside slices, leaving the core square, which being too wiry
to split, they turn over into a log heap. Each of the four slices
is further split into so many rails.

The log-heaps, after burning a day and a night, are now carefuUy
"branded up," and any loose pieces of brush, roots or chips, are
thrown on the top. This may have to be repeated more than once,
especially where there are any hemlocks, but these, instead of being
left to protract the burning, should, if possible, be taken to the saw
mill, and turned into lumber.

And now nothing remains but the ashes. I have seen a good
deal of puffing in some of our emigrant guide books about what
might be realized from potash, but I would not advise the settler,
ignorant of the business, to have anything to do with it. Let him
sell his ashes for three-pence or four-pence a bushel to some " ashery
man," who may be glad enough to get them, or if he cannot dispose
of them in this way, the next best thing he can do is to scatter
them over the fallow. The potash business is all very good if you
give yourself to it, but it " don't pay" along with clearing up and
cultivating a farm.

Pap takes the easiest way of getting rid of his ashes, that is,
scatters them over the ftillow. This and the fencing of the field
completed, he is ready, after the first rain, to sow the whole with
turnips and potatoes, which will keep the weeds out till Fall, and
then, if the crops are got off in time, the land will be none the
worse for winter wheat. Very little time will sufRce for getting
the potatoes in. The loamy soil, soft as wool, where the roots are
not too near the surface receives a few seedings here and there,
which are " hilled" up with the hoe. A child of ten yeara of age
may do the whole thing.

It is now on in June, the fall wheat is well advanced ; the spring
has a good braird. Pap has been giving his morrungs and evenings
to the garden. The cabbage-plants, raised from the seed in an
artificial bed, protected from the flies by a screen, are doing first-
rato, so are the onions. Pap has tried to raise an orchard, but has
not yet succeeded ; his neighbours have tried it with no better
success ; from some cause or other apple trees have been a failure
at the "Mills," and yet, strange as it may seem, only a few
miles to the east, in a much newer settlement, they have splendid
orchards. Some say it is owing to the proximity of extensive
swamps affecting the mean temperature. Pap himself blames the
fruit-tree pedlers for passing off old stock, and the fruit-tree ped-
lers blame Pap with carelessness in planting. But Pap can raise

THE BACKWOODS LIFE. 7o

any quantity of Siberian crabs, and his " old woman" knows how
to preserve them,

Where the clearing is well advanced, there is now a lull in the
labours of the farm. Of course one can always find plenty to do,
but he will not be driven so hard. Now is the best time to stump
and clean up fields that may have been several yeai-s in meadow ;
to build barns, stables and root-houses. Indoors, the women are
busy with their wool. Before shearing, the sheep are washed in a
creek or pond, and when dry, some neighbour, accustomed to the
shears, is hired to do the clipping. The wool is then taken home
and picked, preparatory to being sent to the carding mill. Some-
times it is in a dreadful state with bun*s, of which there are three
or four xinds growing on the roadsides, and in the fence ; omers,
where the poor sheep have often to hunt for a scanty living. But
Mrs. Gates is going to have a })icking bee ; all the old gossips will
be invited ; the tea will be made pretty strong, and 'ginger will be
hot in the mouth.' Mary Ann will also have some of her young
friends call in the evening, the boys, by mere accident, may hap-
pen to drop in too, after the old people go away. I would not say,
but there might be dancing, if old Telfer's fiddle can be had.

The wool, picked and sorted, goes to the carding mill, and comes
back in rolls ready for the spinner, who uses the large wheel
driven with the hand. This is now Mary Ann's duty, since her
mother has begun to get up in years, but there won't be much
done till after harvest.

With summer comes another opportunity for travelling. Sleigh-
ridilig not being so attractive to the old people now, as in former
years, this is their chance. The roads are good, and the days long.
They h&vo a few old friends and relations whom they like to visit
occasionally, and the old lady has saved two tubs of butter with-
out a taint of forest-weeds, such as "leeks" or "adder tongue, '
also a box of fresh eggs, packed in oats, the sale of which in the
market, or by the way, will pay expenses, and procure a few
articles of dress and finery for herself and the girls. They will
take the "old span" and the new light spring waggon, and be back
in eight or ten days.

Summer will be somewhat different with the settler just com-
mencing, and having everything to do himself He will have got
his small first year s clearing ploughed in a sort of a way, and
sown with Spring wheat ; and he may have managed to log and
clean up as much of his winter's chopping as will do for potatoes
and turnips ; but the rest of the fallow has now to be attended to

76 THE backwoods' life.

for Fall wheat, which with some building he may have on hand,
will keep him at home with his hands full. Or |)erhaps he may
have a well to dig, which will be labour well spent, if he has no
spring on his lot, and haa to drive his cattle to the creek twice a
day, or team the water home in barrels. In this case, the exact
spot on which to commence operations, will be a question of some
importance. If, like most of his neighbours, he has faitii in the
"witching stick," the difficulty will be refeiTcd to its subtile and
mysterious power. A small twig with two stems branching out
so as to form a crotch, held in a peculiar way with both hands of
the operator, who must be a believer ; this is the witching stick.
It is carried up and down the place where it would be convenient
for the water to be, and if water is there the end of the stick not
held by the hands, will bend downwards and mark the spot. I
never saw any hann in following its indications, for water is just
as likely to be found where it says it is as anywhere else. A great
(leal has lieen said for and against the witching stick. The argu-
ment in favour is, that some men possess the faculty of indicating
subterranean springs and currents, by sensation, the thing being
called Bhtonism after the Frenchman Bleta, who had such a
faculty. Electricity is the secret of the whole thing, and this is
said to explain how it is that only a few are ca])able of operating
with the stick, namely those positively or negatively charged with
the fluid. Where there is an equilibrium in the system of the
operator, the witching stick will give no sign. I never could get
the stick to do anything for me, but have often seen it bent and
bending in the hands of othere; whether by electricity or pressure
of the stems of the crotch by the operator, who is generally excited
at the time, I have not been able to decide.

In most instjinces, well digging is not a very difficult matter,
and much of it the settler can do himself If there is rock in the
way, of course it will be better to engage the services of a regular
well-digger at so much a foot.

It is noAv the leafy month of July ; long and beautiful are the
days, the nights, still and breathless, sometimes cool, or with a
warm smoky haze. Myriads of fire-flies dance in the shade of
trees. Dreamlike and indistinct in the yellow moonlight are all
things blended together — sight and sound. Far oft' an.' nigh, the
heavy clang of the cow-bell, the drowsy tinklings of tb". roadside
sheepfold, the flute-like, melancholy ever receding g of the
Whip-poor-Avill, and the ear-piercing shriek of the Night-hawk,
swooping downwards to the earth. These are the voices of the

THE backwoods' LIFE. 77

night. How different will their interpretations be ! Sitting alone
o' a rail fence it may be, the immigrant is oppresHed with the
loreignness of feeling, sight and sound. He remembers, "moons
like these," but lighting other and better loved scenes, hill and
strath, that echoed the "Comcraiks's" unwearied song.

,,,, , ., ; ,, .,' "O why left I my bame, ;, ,, ;

Ac, &c."

I know it is no joke, the first year or two, but it wont do to get
spooney, the pill has to be swallowed ; not forgetting the dear old
land, but learning more and more to love the new.

At length Pap and the old woman have returned from their
tour of business and pleasure, the latter full of ncAvs, and the
fashions, and just in time to have the girls put in shape lor the
"twelfth." Orangeism has taken quite a hold in Canada, nor is
the organization confined to Irishmen, as might be suj^posed, but
includes both Scotch and English. Some have the notion that it
is necessary to the stability of the country, and the mainten-
ance of the Protestant faith. The twelfth of July is the gi-eat
anniversary, which is celebrat< 1 by a meeting of the lodges situate
within certain limits, and a " wuik " with drum and fife, to the tune
of the "Protestant boys." They generally have a sermon, and
wind up with a supper and ball. I recollect hearing a Scotchman
at one of their public gatherings holding forth rather wildly on
the claims of the Institution upon his countrymen. " Have
Scotchmen to be reminded of the glorious Revolution of 1G88,
when William the Protestant, and hero of immortal memory,
ascended the throne of the Popish persecutor, when the long
banished son returned to his mother's embrace, the exile to the
home and friends of his youth, when &c., &c." The audience
thought it very eloquent, but failed to see the connection of the
subject with the Orange Institution.

Of late years Fenianism has helped to strengthen the l)ody ;
new lodges have been formed, and old ones have added to their
numbers ; but the mere monotony of the thing kills out in time
a good many of the country lodges. For a while, at first, getting
up a lodge room, with the paraphernalia of flags, and other insignia,
great zeal is displayed ; but when all the available people are
"made," it becomes a question, what next? This of course has
reference to the back townships ; in the towns and cities among
able and intelligent men, i^y may be very diflerent.

But fifteen acres of iTieadow, more or less, invite our friends to

78 THE backwoods' LIFE.

other work than celebrating anniversaries of old battles. The
day after the "walk" tlierefore finds them busy with the scythe
and rake. A good week's work is before them. It might take
longer, but the warm wind and the hot sun will do the curing
part in little or no time. In the morning it may be green and
wet with dew, in the evening it is withered, perha})s in the bam.

It is that variety of grass called " Timothy " which is most in
use and found to answer best in this climate. It is said to derive
its name from a Mr. Timothy Hansa, who first introduced it to the
State of NorHi Carolina. In the year 17t)3, it was brought to
England, where it is known by the name of catstail or herd's
grass. It is perenniiil, having numerous leaves on the stem, which
rises from three to four or even five feet, with a cylindrical Hour-
head or panicle three or four inches in length. Although coarse
in appearance, animals are very fond of it, either green or in hay.
The 3eed is a very small globe, of a silvery grey lustre when good
and fresh, diftering from all other gi*ass seeds in its weight, which
is 44 lbs. to the bushel. It is a very important crop in Canada,
and the farmer who has plenty of it need not be afraid of a long
winter.

Barley comes next, of which the Gates's, this year, have some-
thing like ten acres. The neighbours laughed at Pap for having
so much of it, but it was one of the luckiest speculations in the
way of a crop he had ever made. He had over three hundred
bushels, and sold it all at an average of one dollar and twenty-five
cents per bushel, more than double the price of former years.
Canada barley is now in extraordinary demand on the other side
of the line, for malting purposes, for which, owing to the weight
and beautiful colour of the grain, it is much better adapted than
any the Americans themselves have yet been able to raise ; so that
notwithstanding an import duty of fifteen cents per bushel, they
are ready to take all we can give them, and their demands are not
likely to fall off" while they continue, as they are doing, to become
more and more a beer-drinking, instead of a whiskey-drinking
people.

The ten acres of barley no sooner cut and in the barn, than it
is time to turn into the fall wheat, of which they have also ten
acres, this being considered a more than ordinary breadth for a
backward place like Coming's Mills, where the main dependence
had always been in the later Spring crops, some settlers having
seldom or never tried the other variety, from the risk, which in one
way or another attends it. The pi incipal crop in all new settlements

THE backwoods' LIFE. 79

is spring wheat, which is often sown as late as tho Iwginning of
June, and is usually ready for harvesting about the first week or
two in September. The Gates's have close upon 35 acres of this
crop. Sown, as the ground wjis ready, through nearly the whole
of the month of May, harvesting does not come upon them all at
once, but still the work is i)retty hard, whether swinging the
cradle all day, or raking up and binding after those that do. The
boys prefer the former, as being more consequential. Pap with a
hired man or two, attends to the latter. At length the crop is
cut ; a few days in the stook, and it is hauled into the bam, piled
in the mow, where it remains till the threshing machine comes
round in the Fall, when we arrive at the point at which we took
up our friend, the Paisley weaver — and so, complete the round of
Backwoods' Life.

.-. ••-,

• ' '■• ••. • •• •*.•••.•••

'••' •, • •• ••••• ••

• •• •• • •«,•