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Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reductior« ratios. Those too large to be entirely included ':: ont: exposure are filmed beginning in the upp'tr ie " nnrd corner, left to right and top to botton., j mfuccn. 1878. [A// /e/iT/t/s /Reserved.] A T A CONTENTS. PAOB PREFACE - - - -. - - . V LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY - - - 1 PART IL — LETTERS WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTER- WARDS 153 A WEDDING IN MUSKOKA 187 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH, THIRTY YEARS AGO 233 TERRA INCOGNITA; OR, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA - 261 A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS - - - - 279 '^2:> PKEFACE TO THE i( LETTERS OF AN EMIGRANT LADY." 1 IN laying before the public a sketch of our " Bush" experiences during the first year after our arrival in Muskoka, Ontario, Canada, I desire to state the reasons which prompted us to such an imprudent step as emigration, without even the moderate capital necessary for any one who would start with the slightest chance of success. The Franco-German War in 1870 was the means of breaking up our ■I VI PREFACE. happy homo in Franco, which, "svith one short interval, had been the shelter of my family and myself during fifteen years of widowhood. The commencement of the war found us living in the outskirts of St. Pierre-15s-Calais, a suburb of Calais, and a busy place, full of lace factories. Our house and grounds, quite open to the country at the back, fronted the canal which communicates with the sea at Calais. When the w^ar had made some progress, and the German army appeared to be steadily advancing through France, we found ourselves in a most unpleasant dilemma — in fact, literally between fire and water I The civic authorities made known that, in case of the approach of a German army, it was their fixed intention to cut the sluices, and to lay the adjacent country under water for a distance of ten miles, and to a depth PREFACE. vu of seven feet. Our large, rambling, con- venient old mansion, which shook with every gale of wind, and had no cellarage nor secure foundation of any kind, we felt would surely be submerged. Moreover, the military commandant noti- fied that in case Calais were threatened with siege, all houses and buildings within the military zone would be blown up, to allow free range for the cannon on the ramparts. This was pleasant inteUigence to people in the direct line of fire, and with a certainty of very short notice to quit being given. Still, we took the chances, and stood our ground. We felt the deepest sympathy for the French, and would willingly have heljDcd them to the extent of our very limited means, but could only do so by lending beds and bedding for the wounded, which we did, and which were all scrupulously returned at the close of the war. ^m ^m VlII PREFACE. At this time I had a married daughter residing at Guiiics, where her husband was mathematical professor in the principal English school, conducted by a French gentleman. In the middle of August, about midnight, we heard a carriage drive to the door, and found that my son-in-law had thought it more prudent to bring his family to a safer place than Guines, which, being quite an open town, was at any time liable to incursions from the dreaded Uhlans. He was obliged to return to his employers, who could not be left with the sole responsibility of a numerous school consisting mostly of English scholars. A few days afterwards, on an alarm that the Germans had entered Amiens, we all took refuge in Calais, where, as soon as the war broke out, I had taken the precaution to secure apartments. We had most of our property hastily packed up and placed in PREFACE. ix store. In Calais we remained till nearly the bef^inning of winter, when my son-in-law took his family back to G nines and we returned to our house. In fact it began to be recognised that Calais was too far out of the way, and presented too little temptation to a conquering army to make it likely we should be molested. The spring of 1871 brought great changes^ both public and private. The war ended, but France was no longer the same country to us. My eldest son had left us to take a situation in London in the office of the kind friends who had known him from boyhood^ and whose father, recently dead, had been our neighbour for fifteen years, his beautiful garden and pleasure-grounds joining our more humble premises. Before the summer was over, my son-in- law, whose health suffered from his scholastic duties, made up his mind to emigrate to PREFACE. i !» Canada, and to join my youngest son who, after many misfortunes, had settled on the " free-grant lands " of Muskoka, and who wrote frequently to urge other members of the family to come out before all the good land near his location was taken up. At this time he was himself thriving, but imme- diately after suffered great reverses. He had a rheumatic fever which lasted many weeks, and threw him back in his farming ; he lost one of his two cows from the careless- ness of a neighbour, and most of his crops from the dry season and their being put in too late, and was only beginning to recover when his sister and her family arrived, having with them his affianced wife. My eldest daughter and myself were thus left alone in France, and were obliged to give up our cherished home, my reduced income being quite insufficient to maintain it. Virulent small-pox and other epidemics, PREFACE. XL the result of effluvia from the battle-fields, broke out, and I had dangerous illness in my own family. Provisions rose to an enormous price, taxation greatly increased, and the country bid fair to be long in an unsettled condition. Under these circumstances we, too, began to think of emigration ; and finding that my eldest son, always accustomed to a domestic circle, was very dull in London without one, and at the same time not dis- inclined to try farming, being fond of an out-door active life, we came to the decision to emigrate. He relinquished his excellent situation, his employers behaving with the greatest kind- ness and liberality. We read up a few books on emigration which invariably paint it in the brightest colours, and being quite ignorant of the expense of so long a journey, of the hardships of the " Bush," and of the absolute necessity for a sum of money to begin with, "C xu PREFACE. we came out hoping in our innocence that strong hearts, wiUing hands, and the pension of an officer's widow would be inexhaustible riches in the wilderness. The problem remains to be solved whether we can continue our farming without capital, or whether we shall be compelled to go to one of the large towns in Canada or the ^' States," to seek for remunerative employ- ment. LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. \. LETTER I. ^OU ask me, my clear child, to give you a few particulars of our voyage across the Atlantic to Canada, our journey from Quebec to the Bush of Mus- koka, and our residence here as emigrant far- mers for the last year. As in my diary I have only chronicled the bare events of each passing assed a delightful sunmier and autumn with your dear papa and my two babies. Our regiment was then stationed at Plymouth, and your papa commanded the guard placed on the island for the protection of the powder magazine. The weather was beautiful when we left Plymouth, and was expected to remain so till the end of the voyage ; but after a few days, when well out in the Atlantic, a tre- (> LETTEPi^ FROM AN EMIGllANT LADY. i mendous gcale set in which lusted for several days and nights. I had been in storms two or three times- oft* the Irish coast, but confess that I never felt so frightened as when at every roll our ship ga\e (and she was a roJU'v), we heard a liorrid grating sound which we shrewdly sus- pected to be caused by part of our cargo of iron which had shifted its place, and kept moving Avith every motion of the ship. We w ere told on arriving at Quebec that this un- expected storm was occasioned by a hurricane in the West Indies. Most of the passengers,, as well as ourselves, were possessed by the demon of sea-sickness, and your sister w^as hardly able to get up during the whole passage. The tedium of our confinement was, how- ever, much relieved by the pleasant society and kindness of two most amiable English ladies, who were going out to reside with a ^ LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADV. near relative at Montreal. Every day, after the saloon dinner, they came to our cabin, which they christened the '' drawing-room," and our pleasant conversations there laid the foundation of a friendship which I trust will ever remain unbroken. Our nights from various causes were weary and sleepless, but in the early morning and for some hours we had a diversion, which the proximity of our cabin to the steward's pantry procured for us. Almost as soon as it was light, Jupiter thundered from Olympus, or in other words our black steward, who was punctiliously addressed as " Mr. H s," began the day's proceedings by having the crockery and glass broken during the night by the rolling of the ship removed, and every order was given with a dignified pomposity which was most amusing. We gave him and his assistants the sob- riquet of " Jupiter and his satellites !" Mr. LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. H H s was a portly negro of an imposing presence, and a benign expression of counte- nance which a little reminded one of " Uncle Tom" in Mrs. Beecher Stowe's celebrated work. He exacted implicit obedience, but he was a very good man, strictly honest to his employers, and very considerate to those over whom he had any authority. Not once during the voyage did we hear from his lips an oath or an unseemly word. The stewardess told us that he had a very pretty wife in London, a young English- woman, with a remarkably fair complexion. She also told us an anmsing anecdote of Mr. H s as steward of a troop-ship going out to India. One Sunday afternoon the young officers, tired of playing off practical jokes on each other, and half dead with ennui, applied to Mr. H s to lend them a book to read. i( You know the sort of book we want. ■f ■;.&; LETTEnS FhOM AN EMIGllANT LADY. H s," said they ; *' plenty of love and fighting, and battles, and all that sort of thing 1" ** I understand, gentlemen," said Mr. H s, and presently returned with a lar, and the clearing our baggage as far Wfm \: I i 12 LETTERS FBOM AN EMIGRANT LADY. as Toronto, had all but emptied our purse. We were rich in nothing but delusive hopes and expectations, doomed, like the glass basket of celebrated '' Alnaschars," to be shattered and broken to pieces. We half expected to find a letter with a small remittance waiting for us at the Quebec P. O. Our young friend C. W. was in the same strait, as his money-order was only payable in a bank at Toronto. Both the gentlemen left us and crossed the water to the town of Quebec, where, finding on due inquiry no letter of any kind, your brother was compelled to pledge his gold watch and seal, upon which, though so valuable, he could only get five pounds advanced. This un- avoidable delay lost us the mid- day train to Montreal, by which we saw our kind friends depart after taking a most affectionate leave and engaging us to correspond with them. When our two gentlemen returned we were LETTEIiS FROM AN EMIGUANT LADY. VS nearly starving, as we did not like to go to the tahle-d'hdte without them, and the dinner had long been over. We all sallied forth, and found in a small wayside tavern a homely but excellent meal, and best of all, a private room to take it in. From thence we went to the station and started by the seven p.m. train for Montreal, being quite thankful that our journey had at length becfun. ^ ^1 LETTEK II. Y last letter left us starting from Quebec in the seven p.m. train for Montreal. Our party consisting of four people, we had a compartment to our- selves, but were some time in settling com- fortably, as our old dog " Nero " had to be smuggled in and kept quiet under your sister's waterproof-cloak, for fear the vigilant guard should consign him to the luggage-car, where he would infallibly have barked him- self to death. I noticed very little in the neighbourhood of Quebec, being too much occupied with my LETTEFiS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 15 own sad thoughts, and regrets for those 1 had left behind ; but I did observe that the cows, horses, and pigs all si >peared very small and manifestly inferior to the cattle in England. During this journey I could not help con- trasting the mode of travelling in Canada with the same in the ''old country," and giving a decided preference to the former. It would be almost impossible for either murder, robbery, or any kind of outrage to be per- petrated where the compartments are all open, and the supervision of the guard walking up and down incessant. It is also a great alleviation to the fatigue of travelling to have the refreshment of iced water to drink, and the option of washing faces and hands. Towards night we were beguiled into " Pullman's " sleeping-cars, little imagin- ing how greatly it would add to the expense of the journey. Sleep, however, I found to be impossible in these close boxes, tier above IG LETTEnS FROM AN EMIGIiANT LADY tier, and towards midnight, half smothered, I made my way to the carriage we had occupied before retiring. About this time the train came to a sudden stop, and at last I asked the guard why we were so long stationary. He told me that a train which ought to have been in before us was missing, that men had gone out with lanterns to look for it, and that for fear of being run into we must wait till it came up. A most dreary four hours Ave passed before we were released. We were at a small station in a barren spot of country, where nothing was to be seen in the dim light but a few miserable-looking wooden houses scat- tered about. It was a cheerless prospect, and we were thankful Avhen at length we went on. We passed the morning more agreeably, as the guard, a quiet, intelligent man, en- tered into conversation with us. He was telling us of a curious and erudite book about \\ •\ ^^'vJ LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANKLAIW. 17 to be published at Boston, Massachusetts, •(•oinpiled by one of his relations, from nume- rous records and papers treasured in the family, and handed down from one generation to another, beginning with the first landing of the " Pilgrim Fathers." His ancestor, with his family, came out in the McujHower, and from that time to the l^resent they had had an unbroken succession of godly ministers, who in the early times of their settlement were called, in the old Puritan phraseology, *' sons of thunder." In the spring of 1871, he had attended the an nual family gathering at Boston, to which the remotest connections, if possible, came. I regret much that I did not take down his name. In consequence of our long delay in the night, we did not arrive at Montreal in time for the early train, but had to breakfast there, and remain a few hours. When we started, "*iRPF ' I • ti [\ 18 LETTERS FnOM AN EMIGHANT LADY. we found that we had a hot and dusty journey before us. I greatly admired the environs of Montreal, particularly some pretty villa residences, perched, as it Avere, in terraces one above the other. An incident occurred in the course of the day which afforded me a few moments of exquisite satisfaction, which every mother will understand. While our train was drawn up before a small station, an emigrant train, going to some distant part, went past. Numbers of the emigrants were there who had been steerage passengers on board our vessel from England. As your brother was standing, with C. W., on the steps of one of the car-^ riages, he was recognised, and they imme- diately vociferated, " Mr. K. I Mr. K. I three cheers for Mr. K. !" Then arose three deafening cheers, which died away in the 'aist^'r c ; but not before your sister and I^ LETTEIiS FROM AN EMIGUANT LADY. 19 lookinof out of the window, saw an indefmito number of pocket-handkerchiefs, of all colours and dimensions, fluttering from the windows in token of recognition. Towards the evening of this day, as we were nearing Toronto, another stoppage oc- curred, similar to the one of the night before. A baggage -truck had got off the line, and might be expected at any moment to run into our train. On this occasion I could not but think our situation most alarming. We were drawn up on a narrow bridge over a foaming tor- rent, "»vith jagged rocks sticking up from the bottom, suggesting a not very pleasant fate had we been rolled over. Here we remained for four hours and a half Luckily I was so much occupied with my own thoughts, that I did not hear a gentleman in an adjoining compartment recounting to his horrified audience an accident on the Boston Railway, 2—2 ■!~^5« H 20 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. in which he had been a rehictant })artici- pator, the week before, and which occurred to a train in a similar position to ours. This train waited for many hours, ivas at hist run into, and twenty-five of the passengers were killed. Your sister heard every word, l)ut took care not to disturb my meditations. This accident detained us so long, that it was past midnight when we got into Toronto, and, hiring a carriage, were driven to a re- spectable, cheap family hotel, strongly re- commended to your brother by a kind and gentlemanly Canadian, who was our fellow- passenger from England. Unfortunately they were full, from garret to cellar, and could not take us in. Our driver, left to his own devices, took us to the " Rossin House," where we remained till the next day, most supremely uncomfortable, in a rambling hotel of immense extent, where I lost my way every time I left the /J'JTTKL'S FltOM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 21 saloon ; whore, from not knowing the hours, we were all but starved ; and where it was hardly possible to obtain a civil answer from anv one of the attendants. We started from Toronto at three p.m. the next day, leaving our young friend C. W. behind, who, having drawn his money, was going back to Montreal, to pass a little time there before joining us in the Bush. He had also to present letters of introduction to Judge J n, who was known to be able and presumed to be ivilling, to assist the views of the son of his old friend. The farther we went from Toronto, the more barren and ugly the country appeared, and the hideous stumps in every clearing became more and more visible. By degrees also the gardens by the roadside became more denuded of floral vegetation, till at last my eyes rested for miles on little but holly- hocks and pumpkins. Towards dusk, the : t 22 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. lurid glare of the burning trees in the far-off forest became appalling, as well as magni- ficent. I was told that the season had been exceptionally dry, no rain having fallen for three months, and that in different parts the fires had been most destructive. In almost every case these fires have been the natural result of some incidental carelessness. Some wayfarer, far from his home, and camping out for the night, leaves the smouldering ashes of his fire to be blown into a flame by a sudden breeze, or flings the ashes of his pipe into the adjacent brushwood ; in leaving the place of his temporary halt, he little imagines the loss of property, and even of life, which may be occasioned by his thought- lessness. , We slept tliat night at Belle Ewart, a rising town on Lake Simere, and the next morning took the steamer to Orillia. This passage across the lake was the most beau- LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY, i'^ tiful part of our journey. The day was brijjht and clear, the water blue, and the scenery niost beautiful. All was chanoed when we landed at Orillia. We had to leave our nice, roomy, well-appointed steamer for i\ filthy, over-crowded little boat, where we had hardly standin<^-room. I now saw, for the first time, real Hoc Indians, both men and women, some of each being on board the boat. Their encamp- ment on the lake was likewise pointed out to me. Alas for my enthusiasm 1 Alas for my remembrance of youthful delight over Cooper's enchanting novels 1 I was never more disappointed in my life than when I first took notice of these degenerate samples of " Red Men !" The men appeared to me undersized and sinister-looking, the squaws filthy and almost repulsive. No stretch of imagination could bring before me in the persons of these very t>i LKTTEIiS FItOM AN EMKUiANT LADY. ordinary mortals the ditrnified and graceful ** Uncas," or the stately and warlike **Chinga- c'hook !" We lauded at Washage, and after standing for more than an hour on the quay, took the stage-wagon for Gravx'nhurst, the vehicle being so crowded that even the personal baggage most essential to our com- foi*t had to be left behind. Oh ! the horrors of that journey 1 The road was most dread- ful — our first acquaintance with *' corduroy " roads. The forest gradually closed in ujion us, on fire on both sides, burnt trees crashing down in all directions, here and there one right across the road, which had to be dragged out of the way before we could go on. Your brother with his arm round me the whole way (I clinging to the collar of his coat),, could hardly keep me steady as we bumped over every obstacle. In the worst places I was glad to shut my eyes that I might not see the danger. Your poor sister had IHTTEIiS FROM AN EMIGUAXT lADV. 'ir> to clinjj convulsively to tho rope which secured the paHHengers' baggaj^e (ours was loft behind and wo did not wee it for weeks) to avoid being thrown out, and for long after- wards we both suffered from the bruises wo received and the strain upon our limbs. At last, long after dark, we arrived at (Iraven- liurst, where we were obliged to sleep, as tho steamer to Bracebridge could not start before morning on account of the fog. The steam- boat had no accommodation for sleeping, but we had a good supper on board, and a gentlemanly Englishman, a passenger by the stage and well acquainted with Muskoka, took us to a small hotel to sleep. The next morning we went to Bracebridge, and there we found a letter from your brother-hi- law advising me to go before the commis- sioner of crown-lands and sign for my land. The papers for my free grant of a hundred acres had gone to France, but had missed me. \W -I 'm '2Q LETTERS FJiOM AN EMIGRANT LADY, as I had already left. Unfortunately our means were too exhausted to allow of our re- maining even one day in Bracebridge, and we thought it more prudent to start early in the stage-wagon, as the magistrate's office would not be open till ten a.m. The not being able to sign at once lost me tlie power of selling my pine-trees, the new law (a most unjust one) coming into operation before I was able to come in again. We were at the N. A. Hotel, and the mistress of it, herself an Englishwoman and not long from D.evonshire, told me afterwards how sincerely !onded to the call. This is LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 35 for building up the walls of the log-house. Strength and willingness are most desirable at " bees ;" but for the four corners, which have to be " saddled," skill is likewise requi- site, and, therefore, four of the best hands are always chosen for the corners. "Saddling" is cutting out a piece at the corner of each log, so that the end of each succeeding log, when it is raised, rests in the niche prepared for it, and thus the building, when finished, is as firm as a rock. Nothing is paid for the assistance given, but good meals are expected ; and sometimes these " bees " are quite festive meetings, where the wives and daughters of the settlers wait at table, and attend to the wants of the hungry visitors. At a " bee " which your brother attended some time ago, all the young women were in their Sunday attire. At your brother-in-law's " bee '' the female element was entirely wanting, and two or 3—2 36 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. If In* l< ' I three little things went wrong; but excuses are always made for the ignorance of a new settler, and in subsequent meetings the fare has been better, and full satisfaction given. i-i In the centre of each log -house stands out, hideously prominent and ugly, a settler's stove, with a whole array of pots, pans, and kettles belonging to it, which, when not in use, are mostly hung up on the walls, cer- tainly not conducing to their ornamentation. Your sister, always fertile in expedients, hangs a curtain before these unseemly ap- pendages ; but my lively imagination pierces behind the veil, and knowing they are there. gives me a feeling of irritation and disgusi which I cannot describe. I may truly call the stove a voracious monster, for in the very cold weather it takes nearly the whole day's chopping of one person to keep it filled up night and day. LKTTEliS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 37 •acious You must not suppose that we had come into a furnished house. There had as yet been neither time nor means to get furniture of any kind. Dear F had herself only been in possession a fortnight, and we were only too glad to sleep on the floor, to sit on upturned boxes, and to make our table of the top of a large chest. When at length, after many weeks' waiting, our baggage arrived, for some days we could hardly turn round ; but we were most thankful for the excellent bedding and the good warm blan- kets we had brought from France, carefully packed in barrels. All woollen goods are extremely dear in Canada, and, as contrasted with our English manufactures, very poor in quality. You know that, from boys, both your brothers have been excellent amateur car- penters, and this fact they have turnod to good a'^count in the " Bush." As soon as time ii*: ' I U I 38 LETTKliS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. could bo found, your eldest brother made a bedstead for his sister's confinement, and stools, and benches, which we found most useful. For a long time after our arrival in the *' Bush," and even after your brother-in- law and myself had received remittances from England, we were in inmiinent danger of starvation from the coarse, bad food, and the difficulty of procuring it from a dis- tance. At the time of which I write, the autumn of 1871, there was neither store nor post- office nearer to us than that at Utterson, fully six miles from our land. I have already told you what kind of a road we found it on coming in. The gentlemen of our different families had to bring all pro- visions in sacks slung upon their shoulders and backs, no light work I can assure you. The staple food of the settlers consists of LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 3!> Iiard salt pork, potatoes, oatinual, molasses, rice, and flour for bread, which every family makes for itself According to the " rising," employe' instead of yeast, the bread was either bicdr, sour, or salt, and we only began to get good bread when our clergyman from Bracebridge, months after our arrival, recom- mended us to use the "Twin Brothers' yeast," which we found answer very well. With regard to other articles of consumption, such as tea, sugar, coftee, etc., I was then, and still am cidedly of opinion that we were using \\\f i/lie refuse of all the shops in Toronto. The tea was full of sloe-leaves, wild raspberry-leaves, and other natural pro- ductions which never grew in China ; and it was so full of bits of stick that my son informed the people at the store that we had collected a nice little stock for winter fuel. My chemical knowledge was not sufficient 40 LETTERS FROM AX EMIGRANT LADY. for me to analyse the coffee, which we really could not drink, but it was a villanous com- pound, of which the coffee-berry was the smallest ingredient ; in short, we were fain to fall back upon and take into favour real chickory or dandelion, which, with a little milk and sugar, is tolerably nice, and as the roots are plentiful among the potato-hills in auvumn, many oi the settlers prepare it for their own use. You know what a simple table we kept in France, but there our plain food was well cooked and prepared, and was the best of its kind. Vvo found the change terrible, and very injurious to our health, and, what was worse, the store was often out of the most necessary articles, and our messengers were compelled to return, weary and footsore, without what we wanted. We are much better off now, having a post-office and store lETTEIlS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 41 belonging to the settlement only three miles away, kept by very civil and intelligent Scotch people, who do their best to procure whatever is ordered. We suffered much also from the want of fresh meat, for though at times some one in the neighbourhood might kill a sheep, yet we seldom heard of it before all the best parts were gone. We also greatly regretted that in a country where even the smaller lakes al)ound with fish, we were so far awav from any piece of water that we could not obtain what would have been a most agreeable change from the much-detested salt pork. I come now to speak of a delusion which is very general in the " old country," and in wliich I largely shared. I mean with regard to the great abundance of venison and game to be found in these parts. This fallacy is much encouraged by different books on emi- gration, which speak of these desirable articles 1!^ si I ■ Si'i I !. If 1 1! i >, i^ It I 42 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. of food as being plentiful, and within the reach of every settler. I certainly arrived with a vague notion that passing deer naight be shot from one's own door, that partridge and wild-duck were as plentiful as sparrows in England, and that hares and rabbits might almost be caught with the hand. These romantic ideas were ruefully dispelled I There is little game of any kind left, and to get that good dogs are wanted, which are very expensive to keep. None of our party have caught the most distant glimpse of a deer since we came, ex- cept your two brothers, who once saw a poor doe rush madly across the corner of C s' clearing, hotly pursued by a trapper's deer- hound, at a season when it was against the law to shoot deer. Your sister-in-law once, venturing from C s' clearing to ours without an escoit, was much alarmed at LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 43 liearing a rustling in the " Bush " quite near her, and a repeated " Ba — a, ba — a 1" We were told that the noise must have come from an ancient stag which is said to have haunted for years the range of rock near us. This mythical old fellow has, however, never been seen, even by the *' oldest inhabitant." Your brothers have now and then shot a chance partridge or wild-duck, but had to look for them, and the truth must be told that when settlers, gentle or simple, are en- gaged in the daily toil of grubbing, and as it were scratching the earth for bread, it is difficult to find a day's leisure for the gentle- manly recreation of shooting. Your youngest brother was pretty successful in trapping beaver and musk-rat, and in shooting por- cupine ; of the two former the skins can be sold to advantage, but as to eating their flesh, which some of our party succeeded in doing, your eldest brother and myself found :! ''if ii .it i 'H 4 1 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. that impossible, and turned with loathing- from the rich repasts prepared from what I irreverently termed vermin I I must now tell you how our lots are situated with regard to each other. C s, having come out a year before the rest of us, had secured two hundred acres of free grant land, one lot in his own name, and one in the maiden name of his present wife, who came out from England to marry him, under the chaperonage of your sister and her hus- band. This has enabled him, since the birth of his little boy, to claim and obtain another lot of a hundred acres, as " head of a family.'' His land is good, and prettily situated, with plenty of beaver meadow and a sprinkling of rock, and also a very picturesque waterfall, where, in coming years, he can have a mill. I have the adjoining hundred acres, good flat land for cultivation, but not so picturesque as any of the other lots, which I regret, though LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 45 others envy me the absence of rock. My land lies between C s' and the two hundred acres belonging to your brother-in- law, whose very pretty situation I have already described. I am sorry to say that the two hundred acres taken up before we came, for your eldest brother and sister, are at a distance of five miles from here ; your brother, who went over to see about clearing a portion of them, says the landscape is most beautiful, as in addition to rock and wood there are good- sized lakes, which make the lots less valuable for cultivation, but far more beautiful to the eye. When we had been here about three weeks, our young friend C. W. came to us from Montreal, where he had not succeeded in getting any situation, though he brought letters of introduction to Judge J. It is quite useless for young gentlemcUy however i; well educated, to come out from the "old country" exj)ecting situations to be numerous and easily attainable ; all introductions from friends of t/ours to friends of theirs are for the most part useless, unless indeed addressed to some conmiercial firm. The best and surest introduction a man can have is to be a steady and skilful workman at some trade, and then he can command employ- ment. To return to C. W. He arrived, in fact, in the dusk of a chilly evening, and was near losing his way in the " Bush," having to pass across my land, which was then almost untrodden. Fortunately as he advanced he betook himself to shouting, and luckily was heard and answered by C s, who was just going indoors for the night. They soon met, and C s took him home, and with him and your sister-in-law he boarded and lodged during the whole of his stay, LETTEL'S FllOM AN EMIGUANT LADY. \7 for at your sister's we were already over- crowded. As the autumn advanced, we began most seriously to give our attention to building my log-house, hoping that I might settle my part of the family before the winter set in. Accordingly an acre of my land was cleared, and the logs for a house cut and prepared, a skilful workman being hired to help ; and when all was ready, we called a " bee," and took care to provide everything of the best in the shape of provisions. Our well-laid plan was a signal failure, pai-tly because settlers do not like coming to a " bee " so late in the year (it was Novem- ber), and partlj'^ because some of the invita- tions had been given on Sunday, which, as most of the settlers near us were Scotch and strict Presbyterians, caused offence. Only three people came, and they were thanked and dismissed. 48 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. M t ^Mi The very next day (November 1 1th), snow- storms and hard winter weather began ; but in spite of this our four gentlemen, seeing my deep disappointment at being kept waiting for a residence, most chivalrously went to work, and by their unassisted efforts and hard labour actually managed in the course of a fortnight to raise the walls and place the rafters of a log-house not much smaller than the others. Their work was the admir- ation of the whole settlement, and many expressed themselves quite ashamed of having thus left us in the lurch. After raising the walls, however, they were reluctantly compelled to stop, for the severity of the weather was such, that shingling the roof, chinking, and mossing became quite impossible. As it was, E. nearly had his hands frost-bitten. We were thus compelled to remain with your sister till the spring of 1872. We greatly felt. LETTEBS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 49 after we came into the Bush, the want of all religious ordinances ; but we soon arranged a general meeting of all the members of the family on a Sunday at your sister's, when your brother-in-law read the Church of England service, and all joined in singing the chants and hynms. Sometimes he was unavoidably absent, as the clergymen at Bracebridge, knowing him to have taken his degree at St. John's College, Cambridge, and to be otherwise qualified, would ask his assistance, though a layman, to do duty for him at different stations in the district. We found in our own neighbourhood a building set apart for use as a church, but too far off for us to attend either summer or winter. Here Church of England, Presby- terian, and Wesleyan ministers preached in turn, and thus some semblance of worship was kept up. I hardly dare describe the X 50 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. I' • miserable change we found in our employ- ments and manner of life when we first settled down to hard labour in the Bush. It was anguish to me to see your sisters and sister-in-law, so tenderly and delicately brought up, working harder by far than any of our servants in England or France. It is one thing to sit in a pretty drawing- room, to play, to sing, to study, to embroider, and to enjoy social and intellectual converse with a select circle of kind friends, and it is quite another thing to slave and toil in a log-house, no better than a kitchen, from morning till night, at cleaning, washing, baking, preparing meals for hungry men (not always of one's own family), and drying incessant changes of wet clothes. I confess, to my shame, that my philosophy entirely gave way, and that for a long time I cried constantly. I also took to falling off my chair in fits of giddiness, which lasted for LKTTEliS FllOM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 51 a few minutes, and much alarmed the children, who feared apoplexy. I felt quite sure that it was from continual fretting, want of proper exercise, the heat of the stove, and inanition from not being able to swallow a sufficiency of the coarse food I so much disliked. Fortunately we had brought out some cases of arrow-root, and some bottles of Oxley's Essence of Ginger, and with the help of this nourishment, and walking resolutely up and down the clearing, where we kept a track swept for the purpose, I got better. Your eldest sister likewise had an alarming fit of illness, liver complaint and palpitation of the heart, doubtless brought on by poor food, hard work, and the great weight of the utensils belonging to the stove. I was much frightened, but after a time she, too, partially recovered ; indeed we had to get well as best we might, for there was no doctor nearer than Bracebridge, eighteen 4—2 lli iii ! '.' \ '\ h i I i ii I 'I (I f I !;5 52 LETTEnS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. miles off, and had wc sunt for him, we had no moanH of paying either for visits or drugs. Christmas Day at length drew near, and as we wished to be all together, though our funds were exceedingly low, dear C s insisted on contributing to our Christmas- dinner. He bought a chicken from a neighbouring settler who, in giving him a acare-crow, did not forget to charge a good price for it. He sent it to us with some mutton. Your sister has told me since, that while preparing the chicken for cooking, she could have shed tears of disgust and compassion, the poor thing being so at- tenuated that its bones pierced through the skin, and had it not been killed, it must soon have died of consumption. In spite of this I roused my dormant energies, and with the help of butter, onions and spices, I concocted a savoury stew which was nmch applauded. We had also a pudding I Well, the less LETTEUS FROM AN EMIGIiANT LADY. 53 said about that pudding the bettor. Never- theless, I must record that it contained a ma.iuauhi of fiour and a minimum of currants and grease. The plums, sugar, spice, eggs, citron, and brandy were conspicuous by their absence. Still, the pudding was eaten — peace to its memory I We all assembled on Christmas morning early, and had our Church service performed by your brother-in-law. Cruel memory took me back to our beloved little church in France, with its Christmas decorations of holly and evergreens, and I could almost hear the sweet voices of the choir singing my favourite liynm : " Hark ! the herald angels sing !" There was indeed a sad contrast between the festive meetings of other years, when our little band was un- broken bv don^^ and separation, and when out of M dance we could make others i ^.py, a . th.o forlorn gathering in a strange 54 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. land, with care written on every brow, poverty in all our surroundings, and deep though unexpressed anxiety lest all our struggles in this new and uncongenial mode of existence should prove fruitless. For the sake of others, I tried to simulate a cheerful- ness I was far from feeling, and so we got over the evening. We had a good deal of general conversation, and some of our favourite songs were sung by the gentle- men. It was late when our party broke up ; your brother C s with his wife and C. W. actually scrambled home through the forest by moonlight, a track having been broken by snow-shoes in the morning. A great grief to me at this time was the long interval between writing letters to the " old country " and receiving the answers, an interval which my vivid im- agination filled up with all kind of horrors LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 65 which might have happened to the dear ones we had left behind. The close of the year silently came on, and I finish this letter with a *' Sonnet to the Pines," my first composition in the Bush, written partly to convince myself that I was not quite out of my wits, but had still the little modicum of intellect I once possessed, and partly to reassure your brothers and .sisters, who were always predicting that I should bring on softening of the brain by my unceasing regrets for the past, and gloomy prognostications for the future. SONNET TO THE MUSKOKA PINES ! Weird monarchs of tho forest ! ye who keep Your solemn watch betwixt the earth and sky ; I hear sad murmurs through your branches creep. I hear the night-wind's soft and whispering sigh, Warning ye that the spoiler's hand is nigh : The surging wave of human life draws near ! Tho woodman's axe, piercing the leafy glade, Awakes the forest- echoes far and near, Ili'l :l Si 56 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. And startles in its haunts the timid deer, Who seeks in haste some far-off friendly shade ! Nor drop ye stately Pines to earth alone. The leafy train who sharM your regal state — Beech, Maple, Balsam, Spmce and Birch — lie prone, And having grac'd your grandeur — share your fate ! i I LETTEK IV. EW- YEAR'S Day of 1872 was one of those exceptionally beautiful days, when hope is generated in the saddest heart, and when the most pressing cares and anxieties retire for at least a time into the background of our lives. The sky was blue and clear, the sun bright, and the air quite soft and balmy for the time of year. We had had some bitter cold and gloomy weather, and we found the change most delightful. As in France we were in the habit of making presents among ourselves on this day, I looked over all my stores with a I i I I. s C' ■< 58 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. view to keeping up the same pretty custom here ; but alas ! in the absence of all shops I was sorely puzzled. At last I made all right by giving pencils and paper for scribbling to the children ; Eau de Cologne, sweet- scented soap, and pots of pomatum to the elders of the party; and finished off with a box of Bryant and May's " ruby matches " to C. W., who considered them a great acquisi- tion. Your brother E. came over for the whole day. He now boarded and lodged with C s, to make a little more room for your sister F.'s confinement, which we expected at the end of the month. I watched E. with delight as he felled an enormous birch tree in honour of the day ; but though placed in perfect wafetj'^ myself, I could not avoid a thrill of fear for him, as this monarch of the forest came crashing down. Fatal accidents very seldom occur, but new settlers, inex- perienced and unused to the axe, sometimes LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 59 give themselves serious cuts. Your brother and brother-in-law have had many narrow escapes, but fortunately, as yet, are uninjured. Your brother C s before we came gave himself a very severe cut, which prevented his chopping for some weeks. One of the settlers told your brother that when he first began chopping he had given himself a most dangerous wound, the axe having glanced from the tree on to his foot ; for weeks after the accident he stood in a washing-tub for security while chopping his firewood. This account much amused us, and E d made a neat little caricature of P. in his tub chopping. I was greatly disappointed in the Canadian forest, and did not think it half as beautiful as I had been led to expect, for though there are certainly some very tall pines, and these of a considerable girth, yet being so closely packed together and henmied in with small trees and a thick undergrowth of brushwood, 60 LETTERS FUOM AN EMIGRANT LADY. they always seem cramped, and their lofty tops unable to spread out to their full size. Hurricanes here are of frequent occurrence, and at those times it is not unusual for full half an acre of trees to be entirely laid flat, giving the greatest trouble to the settler when he wants to clear. At times the " windfall," as it is called, is a narrow belt of uprooted trees extending for miles, and dis- tinctly marking the path of the hurricane through the forest. I was less astonished at the constant fall of the trees after examining an enormous pine lying on C s' land, which was blown down last year. The roots of this tree seemed to have formed an en- ormous web or network under the surface of the ground, and only a few large fibres here and there appeared to have gone to any depth. I missed the umbrageous oaks, elms, and beeches of our own parks, and also the open forest glades which so greatly enhance LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY, 61 the beauty of our woodland scenery. I am told that the trees in the States are much larger and finer, but of this I am of course incompetent to judge, never having been there. The most beautiful tree here is certainly the *' balsam," a slender, delicate tree whose feathery branches droop gracefully to within a few feet of the ground. We found the winter fearfully cold, the thermometer being at times forty degrees below zero. We had great difficulty in keep- ing ourselves sufficiently clothed for such a season. All people coming to the Bush bring clothes far too good for the rough life they lead there. In coming (3ut we had no means of providing any special outfit, and therefore brought with iis only the ordinary wardrobes of genteel life. We soon found that all silks, delicate shawls, laces and orna- ments, are perfectly useless here. Every article we possess of that kind is carefully put ij 62 LETTEUS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. Bi » away in our trunks, and will probably never see daylight again, unless indeed that, like Mrs. Katy Scudder in the " Minister's Wooing," we may occasionally air our treasures. What we found most useful was everything in the shape of woollen or other thick fabrics, winter dresses, warm plaid shawls, flannels, furs, etc.; of these we had a tolerable stock, and as the cold increased we put one thing over another till we must have often presented the appearance of feather- beds tied in the middle with a string. In- deed, as our gentlemen politely phrased it, we made complete " guys " of ourselves, and I must say that they were not one whit be- hind us in grotesque unsightliness of costume. Your brothers sometimes wore four or five flannels one over the other, thick jerseys and heavy overcoats when not actually at work, and pairs upon pairs of thick woollen socks and stockings, with great sea-boots drawn over all; LETTERS Fli'OM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 63 or in deep snow ** moccasins " or else " shoe- packs," the fii-st being made by the Indians of the skin of the moose-deer, and the second mostly of sheep-skins. The great mart for these articles is at the Indian settlement of " Lachine " on the St. Lawrence, near Mon- treal. They also wore snow-shoes, which are not made like the Laplanders' with skates attached for sliding, but simply for walking on the surface of the deep snow. They con- sist of a framework of wood three feet long by one and a half wide, filled up with strips of raw deer-skin interlaced, and in shape re- sembling a fish, more like a monstrous sole than any other. We ladies, too, were thank- ful to lay aside our French kid boots and delicate slippers, and to wrap our feet and legs up so completely that they much re- sembled mill-posts. Had you or any of our dear friends seen us in our Esquimaux cos- tume, you would certainly have failed to ii li * I I ; «4 LETTERS FROM AN EMIORANT LADY. recognise the well-dressed ladies and gentle- men you had been in the habit of seeing. To crown all, your brother-in-law and C s had goat-skin coats brought from France, real Robinson Crusoe coats, such as are worn by the French shepherds, and these they found invaluable. We were very sorry that E d had not one likewise. Our occupations were manifold ; hard work was the order of the day for every one liut me ; but all the work I was allowed to do was the cooking, for which I consider that I have a special vocation. A great compliment was once paid me by an old Indian officer in our regiment, who declared that Mrs. K. could make a good curry, he was sure, out of the sole of a shoe 1 At other times I read, wrote letters, and plied my knitting-needles indefatigably, to the great advantage of our little colony, in the shape of comforters, baby-socks, mittens, LETTEnS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 65 Canadian sashes and petticoats for the little children. Sometimes I read to the chil- dren out of their story-books, but their hap- piest time was when they could get your sister P e to give them an hour or two in the evening of story-tulling. You know what a talent she possesses for composing, both in prose and verse, stories for little people, and with these she would keep them spell-bound, to the great comfort of the elders of the party, and of their poor mother especi- ally, who towards night felt much fatigued. Dear children I they required some amuse- ment after the close confinement of the win- ter's day. Meanwhile the gentlemen were busy from morning till night chopping down trees in readiness for burning in spring. This is mostly done in mid-winter, as they are reckoned to chop more easily then. You must not suppose that all this time we had no visitors. By degrees many of the 5 li m !.! ! I II! 60 LETTS ns FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. settlers scattered over the neighbourhood came to se^e us, some, doubtless, from kindly motives, others from curiosity to know what the strangers were like. I found some of them pleasant and amusing, particularly those who had been long in the country, and who could be induced to give me some of their earlier Bush experiences. A few of them seemed to possess a sprinkling of higher intelligence, which made their con- versation really interesting. One very picturesque elderly man, tall, spare, and upright, came to fell some pine- trees contiguous to tl o house, which much endangered its safety when the hurricanes, so frequent in this country, blew. He had begun life as a ploughboy on a farm in my beloved county of Kent, and had the un- mistakable Kentish accent. It seemed so strange to me at first, to be shaking hands and sitting at table familiarly with one of a LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 67 class so different from my own ; but this was my first initiation into the free-and-easy intercourse of all classes in this country, where the standing proverb is, " Jack is as good as his master !" I found all the settlei*s kindly disposed towards us, and most liberal in giving us a share of their flower-seeds, plants, and gar- den produce, which, as new-comers, we could not be supposed to have. They were willing also to accept in return such little civilities as we could offer, in the shape of books and newspapers from the old country, and some- times medicines and drugs, which could not be got in the settlement. There might be a little quarrelling, backbiting, and petty rivalry among them, with an occasional dash of slan- derous gossip; but I am inclined to think not more than will inevitably be found in small communities. As a body, they certainly are hard-work - 5—2 ^ 68 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. ing, thrifty, and kind-hearted. Almost uni- versally tliey seem contented with their position and prospects. I have seldom met nth a settlei who did not think his own land the finept in the country, who had not grown the largest turnip ever seen, and who was not full of hope that the <;oveted rail- way would certainly pass through his lot. At this time I felt an increasing anxiety about your sister's confinement, which was now drawing near. That such an event should take place in this desolate wilder- ness, where we had no servants, no monthly- nurse, and not even a doctor within reach, was sufficiently alarming. To relieve my mind, your brother-in-law w^ent about the neighbourhood, and at last found a very respectable person, a settler's wife, not more than three miles off, who consented to be our assistant on this momentous occasion, and he LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 6I> promised to go for her as soon as dear F o should be taken ill. We had been made a little more comfort- able in the house, as your brother-in-law and brother had made a very tolerable ceiling over our bed-places, and your brother had chopped and neatly piled up at the end of the room an innnense stock of fire- wood, which prevented the necessity of so often opening the door. We felt now more than ever the want of fresh meat, as the children could not touch the salt pork, and were heartily tired of boiled rice and dumplings, which were all the \ariety we could give them, with the exception of an occasional ^i^g. In this emergency your brother C s consented to sell me a bull calf, which he intended bring- ing up, but having also a cow and a heifer, and fearing to run short of fodder, he con- sented to part with him. Thus I bocanie 70 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. the fortunate possessor of an animal which, when killed, fully realised my misgivings as to its being neither veal nor beef, but in a transition state between the two. It had a marvellous development of bone and gristle, but very little flesh ; still we made much of it in the shape of nourishing broth and savoury stews, and as I only paid seven dollars for it, and had long credit, I was fully satisfied with my first Bush specula- tion. The 18th of January arrived. The day had been very cold, with a drifting, blinding snow ; towards evening a fierce, gusty wind arose, followed by pitch darkness. The forest trees were cracking and crashing down in all directions. Wo went to bed. At two a.m., having been long awake, I heard a stir in the room, and dear F. s voice asking us to get up. What my feelings were I leave you to imagine — to send for help three I LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 71 miles off, in such a night, was impossible, for even with a lantern your brother-in-law could not have ventured into the Bush. Fortu- nately, we had no time to be frightened or nervous. We removed the sleeping children to our own bed, made the most comfortable arrangement circumstances would admit of for dear F e, and about three a.m., that is to say, in less than an hour after being called, our first Bush baby was born, a very fine little girl. Your sister P e, who had been reading up for the occasion, did all that was necessary, with a skill, coolness and self-possession which would have dune honour to " Dr. Eliuiheth Black r I did indued feel thankfiil when I saw uiy child safe in bed, with her dear baby- girl, washed, dressed, and well bundled up in flannel, lying by har side, she herself taking a basin of gruel which I joyfully pre- 7% LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. pared for her. God " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." We could well believe this when we found your sister recover even more quickly than she had done in France, where she had so many more comforts and even luxuries ; nor was she this time attacked by ague and low fever, from which she had always suffered before. This sudden call upon our energies made me glad that my wandering life in the army had rendered me very independent of extra- neous help, and that I had taught you all from childhood never to call a servant for what you could easily do with your own hands. The very first thing people must learn in the Bush, is to trust in God, and to help themselves, for other help is mostly too far off to be available. At the end of this month, when I felt that I could safely leave dear F e, I deter- LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 7a lat r- mined to go to B e and sign for my land. The not having done so before had long been a cause of great anxiety. I had been more than four months i»i the country, had begun to clear and to build upon my lot, and yet from various causes had not been able to secure it by signing the necessary pajjers. These having been sent to France, and having missed me, had been duly forwarded here. Till the signing was completed, I was liable at any moment to have my land taken up by some one else. Accordingly your brother wrote to B for a cutter and horse, and directed the driver to come as far into the Bush as he could. We started on a very bright, cold morning, but I had walked fully three miles before we met our sledge, which was much behind time. I never enjoyed anything in the country so much as this my first sleighing 74 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. I! I expedition. The small sleigh, or cutter as it is sometimes called, held only one, and I was nestled down in the bottom of it, well wrapped up, and being delightfully warm and «nug, could enjoy looking at the very pic- turesque country we were rapidly passing through. I did, however, most sincerely pity your brother and the driver, who nearly perished, for sitting on the front seat they caught all the wind, which was piercing. We stopped midway at a small tavern, where we dined, and I can truly say that in spite of the dirty table-cloth and the pervading sloven- liness and disorder of the house and premises, I found everything enjoyable, and above all the sense of being for a few hours at least freed from my long imprisonment in the woods. It was late in the afternoon when we Arrived at B e, where we went to the N. A. Hotel, and were made very comfort- LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 75 able by its kind mistress. The next morn- ing at ten a.m. we went to the magis- trate's office, where I signed for my one hundred acres, and of course came away with the conscious dignity of a landed pro- prietor. I was charmed with the kind and cour- teous manners of Mr. L s. He reminded me more of that nearly extinct race — the gentleman of the old school — than any one I had seen since leaving England. His son, who is his assistant, seems equally amiable and popular. Seeing from my manner that I considered Muskoka, even at the present time, as the Ultima Thule of civilisation, he told us some amusing anecdotes of what it had actually been when his grandfather lirst became a settler in Canada. The towns and villages now called the • Front," had then no existence ; all was thick forest, no steamers on the lakes, no roads of any kind, 76 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY, and barely here and there a forest-track made by Indians or trappers. From where his grandfather settled down, it was sixty miles to the nearest place where anything could be got, and the first year he had to go all this distance on foot for a bushel of seed potatoes for planting, and to return with them in a sack which he carried on his back the whole way. We left B e to return home at one p.m., but it was nearly dark when we turned into the Bush, and quite so when we were put down at the point from which we had to walk home. Here we were luckily met by your brother C s and C. W., with a lantern and a rope for our parcels, according to promise. C s took charge of me, and led the way with the lantern. I tried to follow in his steps, but the track was so narrow, and the light so uncertain, that I found myself, every few moments, up to my k •e y s >d h ;k i.» bo it iO [y a |g d LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 77 knees in soft snow, if I diverged only a step from the track. I became almost unable to go on, but after many expedients had been tried, one only was found to answer. C s tied a rope round my waist, and then round his own, and in this safe, but highly ignominious manner, I was literally towed through the forest, and reached home thoroughly ex- hausted, but I am bound to say almost as much from laughter as from fatigue. I found all well, and the children were highly pleased with the little presents I had brought for them. lo LETTEK V. [HE first months of this year found us very anxious to get the log- house finished, which had been so well begun by our four gentlemen, and as soon as the weather moderated a little, and our means allowed us to get help, we had it roofed, floored, chinked, and mossed. It was necessary to get it finished, so that we might move before the great spring thaw should cover the forest-paths with seas of slush and mud, and before the creek between us and our domicile should be swollen so as to render it impassable for ladies. LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 7^ When the workmen had finished, we sent to the nearest town for a settler's stove ; and as the ox-team we hired could bring it no farther than the comer of the concession road which skirts one end of my lot, your brothers had the agreeable task of bringing it piecemeal on their backs, with all its heavy belongings, down the precipitous side of my gully, wading knee-deep through the creek at the bottom, and scrambling up the side- nearest here. It was quite a service of danger, and I felt truly thankful that no accident occurred. About this time our young friend C. W. left us, and we were very sorry to lose him, for more particularly in ** Bush " life the taking away of one familiar face leaves a sad blank behind. He could not, however, make up his mind to remain, finding the life very dull and cheerless, and suffering moreover most severely from the cold of the climate. .%. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I 1.25 '^^ m 1^ 12.2 2.0 1-4 ill 1.6 V] <^ /2 ^l. /A 7 Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 'n ^ ft.' :V «0 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. He went to Toronto, and at last got a tolerably good situation in a bank, where his thorough knowledge of French and German made him very useful. Another important event also took place, and this was the christening of our dear little " Bush " girl, who by this time was thriving nicely. Our Church of England clergyman at B e very kindly came over to perform the ceremony, but as no special day had been named, his visit took us by surprise, and the hospitality Ave were able to extend to him was meagre indeed. This christening certainly presented a marked contrast to our last. It was no well-dressed infant in a richly-embroidered robe and French lace cap like a cauliflower ring, that I handed to our good minister, but a dear little soft bundle of rumpled flannel, with just enough of face visible to receive the baptismal sprinkling. LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LA We all stood round in our anom tumes, and a cracked slop-basin r the font. Nevertheless, our little darling behaved incomparably well, and all passed off pleasantly. With our minister after- wards, a VL'iy kind and gentlemanly man, we had an hour's pleasant conversation, which indeed was quite a treat, for in the Bush, with little or no time for intellectual pursuits, for the practice of any elegant ac- "os ipiishment, or indeed for anything but the stern and hax'd realities of daily labour ; con- versation even among the well-educated is apt to degenerate into discussions about " crops " and " stock," and the relative merits of timothy or heaver hay. We saw but little of your brother Edw ard at this time, for he was fully occupied in thu log-house, where he lit a large fire every day that it might be thoroughly aired for our re- ception, and then engaged in carpentering G II 82 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. extensively for our comfort. He put up numerous shelves for the crockery and kitchen tliinofs, made two very good and substantial bedsteads, a sofa fixed against the wall which we call the " dais," and a verv comfortable easy-chair with a flexible seat of strips of cowhide interlaced — an ingenious device of your brother Charles, who made one for his wife. At last the house being finished, quite aired enough, and otherwise made as com- fortable as our very slender means would permit, we resolved to move, and on the 7th of April we took our departure from dear F s, who, however glad to have more room for the children, sadly missed our companionship, as we did hers. The day of our exodus was very clear and bright, and the narrow snow-track between our lots was still tolerably hard and safe, though the great thaw had begun, and the deep un- ! LETTEnS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 83 trodden snow on either side of the truck was fast melting, and every careless step we took plunged us into two or three feet of snow, from which we had to be ignominiously dragged out. It was worse when we sank into holes full of water, and the narrow path treacherously giving way at the edges, we had many of these falls. All our trunks, chests, and barrels had to be left at F s', and we only took with us packages that could be carried by hand, and our bedding, which was conveyed on the shoulders of the gentlemen. Of course we travelled in Indian file, one after the other. When we finally departed, your brother-in- law and Sister P e preceded me, laden with all manner of small articles, and every few yards down they came. I followed with a stout stick which helped me along consider- ably, and as I was not allowed to carry 6—2 84 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY .'I anything, and picked my wa}^ very carefulhv I managed to escape with comparatively few falls, and only two of any consequence, one when I pitched forward with my face dowit flat on the ground, and another when my feet suddenly slipped from under me and sent me- backwards, rolling over and over in the snow before, even Avith help, I could get up. The effects of this fall I felt fur a long time. At length we arrived at our new home,, but in spite of the magic of that word, T felt dreadfully depressed, and as we were all thoroughly wet and weary, and on looking out of the windows in front saw nothing but a wall of snow six feet deep, which encircled the house and quite liid the clearing from our eyes, I need not say that we Avere any- thing but a gay party. Your kind brother- in-law, to console me a little, went home and brought back in his arms, as a i)resent for me, the little cat of which I had been so LETTERS FHo.U AX EMIGRANT LADV. 85 fond at Ills house. I cheered up iuiiiiediately, iUid liad so much trouble to prevent Httle Tibbs fVoui ruunhig away and being lost in the snow, that it was quite an occupation for jne. One member of our party made himself iit home at once, and from the moment of om' entrance took possession of the warmest place ])efore the stove. This was dear old Nero, who, as a " French seigneur," had great privileges, was much admired in the settle- ment, and was always called the "Frenchman!" His cliief deliglit seemed to be incessantly barking at the squirrels. The thaw continuing, we were quite prisoners for some weeks, and as to our property left at your sister's, it was nearly three months before we could get it, as your brother-in-law with your brothers had to cut a path for the oxen between our clearings, and to make a rough bridge over his creek, which, though not so deep as the one on my I 86 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. land, was equally impassable for a wagon and team. Happy would it have been for us, and for all the new settlers, if, when the snow was quite melted, which was not till the second week in May, fine dry weather had ensued. This would have enabled us to log and burn the trees felled during the winter, and to clear up the ground ready for cropping. Instead of this, drenching rain set in, varied by occasional thunder-storms, so that even after the logging was done it was June before we could venture to fire the heaps, the ground being still quite wet, and even then the clear- ing was such a partial one that by the 1 5th of June we had only three-fourths of an acre thoroughly ready, and on this your brother planted eight bushels of potatoes, happily for us regardless of the prognostics of our neighbours, who all assured him that he was much too late to have any chance of a return. LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. .^7 He had, however, an excellent yield of eighty bushels, which fully repaid him for his per- severance and steady refusal to be wet- blanketed. He also, however late, sowed peas, French beans, vegetable-marrows, and put in cabbages, from all of which we had a good average croji. We had, of course, to hire men for our logging, with their oxen, and to find their meals. I could not but observe how well they all behaved, washing their faces and hands before sitting down to table, and also scrupulously refraining from swearing, smok- ing, or spitting, while in the house. A man who hires himself and his oxen out for the day, has two dollars and food for himself and his beasts ; and should he bring any assistants, they each have seventy-five cents and their food. You should have seen the gentlemen of our party after a day's logging ! Tliey were black from head to foot, and more S8 LK'ITKllS FHfiM AX EMIOUANT LADY resoinblecl master chimney-sweeps than any- thing else. Most of the settlers have a reut we found tlint U— 2 b 164 LETTERS FPOM AN EMIGIUNT LADY. althonirli (Mir expenses increased, our means (lid not. The more land we cleared, the more the want of money became apparent to crop and cultivate it, the labour of one indi- vidual beinpr quite insufficient for the pur- pose. To remedy this want, my son resolved to do what was a common practice in the settle- ment — go out to work for his nei 'ml 160 LETTEUS EllOM AX EMIGUANT LADY. but when it came to ha threshed, every grain was found to be wizened, shrivelled, and dis- coloured, and fit for nothing but to feed poultry. Tlie crop had been winter-killed ; that is, frozen and thawed so often before tho snow finally covered it, that it was quite spoiled. We suffered at intervals this year more severely from the want of money than we had evx'r done ; and had even long spells of hunger and want, which I trust have jire- pared us all to feel during the remainder of our lives a more full and perfect sympathy with our destitute fellow-creatures. In vain did we hope and wait, like Mr. Micawber, for " something to turn up ;" nothing did turn up, but fresh troubles and increased fatigues. Had it not been for the exceeding kindness of our friendly lawyer in London, and of a very dear friend of my early }vars (liimself a lawyer), who sent us occasional assisttaice, we LtyiTEUS FROM .IN EMHUtANT LADY. 107 must lijive sunk umlur our wants and iniseriL's. I (lid my very host to keep the ** W()h* fnjin tlio door" hy my htorary ettorts, and .met with mucli kindness and consideration ; but after unceasinL*' industry, lontr contimied, got to know that a few articles inserted at intervals in a fashionable American maga- zine, however much they might be liked and uj)proved of, would do but little towards re- lieving the wants of a family. 1 became at last (juite discouraged ; for so much material was rejected and returned upon my hands, that I was fain to conclude that some fright- ful spell of dulness had fallen upon my once lively pen. The work of this year sippeared to us all to le harder than ever, and my eldest son's health and stiongth were evidently on the decline. It is true that nearl;^ every day he did the work of two men, as, in addition to the cultivation of the land, he had to chop 163 LETTERS FliOM AN EMIGRANT LADY. all the fire-wood for daily use, to draw the water, and to do various jobs more or less fatiguinj^ to insure anythinjj^ like comfort to the family. He became so attenuated and cadaverous-looking, that we often told him that he would make his fortune on any stajje as the lean ai)othecarv in " llomeo and Juliet." It was with scarcely-suppressed anguish that, night after night, we saw him so fatijjued and worn-out as to be hardlv able to perform his customary ablutions and toilet before sitting down to the reading and writ- ing with which he invariably concluded the day, and which was the only employment which linked us all to our happier life in former days. Indeed, both my sons, in spite of hard work and scanty fare, managed to give a few brief moments to study, and both at intervals wrote a few articles for our local paper, which at least showed an aptitude for II LETTERS FEOM AN EMIGRANT LADY. 1C9 higher pursuits than Bush-farniing. Both my sons at times worked for and with each other, wliioh was a most pleasant arrange- ment. At this time my youngest son was going through, on liis own farm, the same struggles as ourselves, and was, I am bound to say, in every respect as hard-working and energetic us his elder brother. His family was fast in- creasing, as he had now two little boys, in addition to the one of whom we had charge ; and before the end of the year, he was thank- ful to accept the situation of schoolmaster at Allunsville, which added forty ])oun(ls a year to his slender means. On one occasion, when he was working on our land with his brother, and when four other men were giving my son return-work, and were logging a large piece of ground near the house, having brought their (jxen witli them, we had half an hour of the delicious 't I'i 111 uKnII 170 LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. excitoinent of whiuh my daughter-in-law and myself had talked so ealmly some tune before. It was a bright sunny day, and my daughter and myself were busily engaged in cooking a substantial dinner for our work- ing party, when, chancing to look up, my daughter exclaimed, " Manmia, is that sun- light or fire shining through the roof?" I ran out directly, and saw that the shingles below the chinmey were well alight and beginning to blaze up. (Jailing to my daughter in passing, I Hew to the end of the house and screamed out *' Fire ! fire I" in a voice which, my sons afterwards laughingly assured me, nuist have been heard at the J )0st office, three miles off. It had the im- mediate effect of bringing the whole party to our assistance in a few seconds, who were met by my daughter with two pails of water, which she had promptly procured from the •well. i.iii. i;!iy liiil •: LETTEliS rnoM Ay KMlO'h\L\r LA J)}'. 171 My two sons, botli as active as monkeys, were inimediutelv on the roof: one with an axe, to cut away the burning sliinjj^ics ; the other with water, handed up hy men, to keep the fire Irom spreadinj^. In ten minutes all danger was over ; but it left us rather frightened and nervous, and I must confess that I never again wished for excitement of the same dangerous kind. In tlie sunnner of tins year I went to Braccbridge, on a visit to my daugliter, Mrs. C, whose husband had lately taken priest's orders, and been appointed by his bishop resident Church of England minister in that place, a change very agreeable to him, as he was well known, and much liked and esteemed by the inhabitants. When I left the J^ush to go into Brace- bridge, it was with the full intention of never returning to it, and all my family considered my visit to Mrs. C. as a farewell visit before 172 LETTERS FROM AS EMIGRANT LADY. ::!li,; leaviiij^ for England. T had niado i,n\';it exertions to t^et from my kind lawyer and a friend an advance of sufficient money to take one of Uf3 back to the dear " old country," and all aj^roed tliat I should j^o first, huinjjf well aware that my personal solicitations ■would soon secure the means of brinf^inji^ back my eldest son and dausfhter, who, bcini;- the only unmarried ones of the family, were my constant comi)anions. Having, unfortunately for my i)lans, but quite unavoidably, made use of part of the money to leave things tolerably comfortable in the Bush, T waited anxiously till the deficit could be made up, which I fully hojied would soon be the case, a work of mine, in fifteen parts, having been forwarded to a publisher in New York, with a view to publi- cation if approved of. What was my distress at receiving the manuscript back, with this observation appended to it : " The work is lErrEUS FUOM AN KMWIiJNT UDY. 173 iO(l in a .U- lliia is too English, local, and special, to he ac- ceptable on this side of the Atlantic " I Other articles intended for the magazine T sometimes wrote for were also retuined npon my hands about the same time. I draw a veil over my feelings, and will only say that di8aj)pointment, anxiety, suspense, and the buniing heat of the weather gave me a very severe attack of illness, which frightened my dear child Mrs. C. most dn-adfullv, and left me so weak, feeble, and completely crushed, that I was thankful to send for mv son, and to go back ignominiously to the hated Bush, to be tenderly nursed by my dear children, and to grieve over the loss of money so utterly thrown away. The year wore slowly away, and Christmas Eve came at last ; the snow had fallen in immense quantities, and the roads were nearly impassable from the deep drift. Our worthy friend Mr. A g was away at the IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) [s I 1.0 I.I ^ IIIIIM ^ IIIIIM IM 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► V] ^ Photographic Sciences Corporation J 4t>^ \ ^> .V \\ *i TOLD ME BY THE WIFE OF AN OLD SETTLER. II 'trJ ■i I ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. oJ»io J^l^^ H I KT Y years ago, when I went into the Bush, quite a young girl, with my newly-made husband, the part in which we settled was a complete wilderness. Our lot was taken up about thirty miles east of Belle Ewart, now quite a flourishing village, with the railway passing through it. Our small log-house was perfectly isolated, as at that time we had not a single neighbour nearer to us than twelve miles ; all was dense forest, with but a very faint imperfect track leading by degrees to the main road. Here :i 236 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. I passed the first years of my married life, encountering many hardships and enduring many troubles. By degrees my husband cleared and cultivated as much land as would supply our wants, though he never took heartily to the fanning, not having been used to it, being by trade a gunsmith. After several years, neighbours began to gather round us at the distance of two or three miles, and in time quite a settlement was formed. By one of these neighbours a few miles off I was invited to a wedding when my first baby was about a year old. My husband had a strong serviceable pony, but no buggy, and it was settled that I should ride on the pony with baby on my lap, and my husband walk at the side. When we were within a mile of our desti- nation we noticed a tree fallen across the path, which was a narrow track with forest on both sides, and we also saw that the tree BUSH. ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH, 237 ied life, nduring lusband s would r took g been 3gan to two or tlement hours a redding ar old. e pony, should ap, and r desti- )ss the forest le tree had a bushy green top to it. We arrived at our friend's, partook of the wedding festivities, and started on our return home at ten o'clock on a bright starlight night. As we approached the fallen tree over which the pony had stepped quite quietly in the morning, the poor animal began to shiver all over, to snort, to caper about the road in a most extraov'linary manner, and appeared too frightened to move on. I whispered to my husband that I saw the green toj) of the tree moving, and that I had better get off with the baby for fear of the pony starting and throwing us off. He took me down, and we stepped across the tree, dragging the pony after us with the greatest difficulty ; hardly had we got to the other side when from the bushy head of the tree out walked a great brown bear, who certainly looked very much astonished at our little party. ;i 1| 'Ml 238 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. We were terribly frightened, expecting him to attack the pony, but he stood quite still. We thought it better to move on, slowly at first, and afterwards more quickly as we got nearer home. He followed us for more than a mile, indeed till we were quite in sight of our own door, then finding himself near a human habitation he gave one fearful growl before gliding off" into the forest, and we lost sight of him. When we were safely housed, and the poor pony well fed and locked into his little shed, I felt nearly dead with terror and fatigue. My next interview with Bruin was in a buggy, three years afterwards, in which I was being driven homeward by my husband. This time we had two children with us, and had been to a considerable distance to purchase articles at a newly-established store, which could not be procured nearer. We were more than six miles from home, when the ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH, 230 pony (the same mentioned before) began to be greatly agitated, refused to go on, then tried to start off, and gave loud snorts of distress. My husband got out and stood at the pony's head, holding him firmly to prevent his start- ing. The light was very dim in the shade of the Bush, but we both saw something large creeping along the edge of the forest next to where my husband stood ; he had no weapon with him but his woodman's knife and a thick stake picked up from the roadside. Presently a bear came slowly out of the forest, and ad- vanced into the middle of the road at some distance from us, as if preparing for fight. I was terribly frightened, but my husband stood quite still, holding in the horse, but keeping in full view the bear, kncwing what a terror they have of man. After steadily looking at each other for at least five minutes — minutes of suspense and "ti 240 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. agony to us, Bruin evidently understood the difficulties of his position, and quietly slunk away into the Bush on the other side of the road ; and we were glad to get home in safety. At another time, I had a visit from a lynx ; but as I certainly invited him myself, I could not be surprised at his coming as he did, almost close to my cottage door. My hus- band had been gone for two days on im- portant business to a village a long way off, and on this particular evening I fully expected him home. We were living in quite a small shanty till we could build a larger house ; it had a fire- place on the floor, and an open chimney ; the room was very low, and easy of access from the outside. I was living then with m^^ three little children and a young ^ * » ' fourteen who helped me to take care v them. As it was getting dusk I thought I heard i I ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 241 human voice distinctly calling from the forest, " Hallo I" I went to the door and inmiedi- atoly answered in the same tone, " Hallo 1" making sure that it was my husband, who finding the track very faint from the gloom of the forest, wanted our voices to guide him right. The voice replied to me. I hallooed again, and this went on for some minutes, the sound drawing nearer and nearer, till at length advancing from the edge of the forest, not my husband, but a good-sized lynx, attracted by my answering call, stood quite in front of the cottage — nothing more than the width of a broad road between us and it. The children, most fortunately, were play- ing inside, but my sister and myself distinctly saw the eyes of the creature like globes of fire, and in the stillness of the evening we could hear its teeth gnashing as if with anxiety to attack us. Fortunately, through the open door of the shanty the savage ani- 16 242 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. mal could see the blazing fire on the hearth, and came no nearer. We hastily shut the door, and my poor little sister began to cry and bemoan the danger we were in : " Oh 1 the roof was so low, and it would clamber up and drop down the chimney, or it would spring through the window, or push open the door," etc. I begged her not to frighten the poor children who were playing in a corner, but at once to put more wood on the fire and make a good blaze. I now found that we had hardly any wood without going to the stack outside, which luckily was very close to the door, and fearing that my husband might at any moment return, and be pounced upon unawares, I made my sister light a candle, and opening the door placed her at it, telling her to move the light about so as to bewilder the lynx. Still the dreadful animal sss^ss ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 243 remained, uttering cries at intervals, but not moving a step. As quickly as I could I got plenty of wood, as much as I thought would last the night, and very gladly we again shut the door. We now piled up wood on the hearth till there was a great blaze, and no doubt the showers of sparks which must have gone out at the chimney-top greatly alarmed the lynx ; it now gave a number of fierce angry cries and went off into the forest^ the sound becoming fainter and fainter till it died away. My husband did not return till the evening of the next day, and he had seen nothing of our unwelcome visitor. At the time I speak of, the woods of Mus- koka were quite infested with wolves, whir' however, were only dangerous when many were together. A single wolf is at all times too cowardly to attack a man. My husband knew this, and therefore if he heard a single 16—2 244 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. howl he took no notice, but if he heard by the howling that a pack was in the forest near at hand, he went on his road very cautiously^ looking from side to side so as to secure a tree for climbing into should they attack him. The Canadian wolf has not the audacity of the prairie wolf; should it drive a traveller to the shelter of a tree it will circle round it all night, but at the dawn of day is sure to disappear. A neighbour's child, a boy of twelve years old, had a narrow escape from four or five of them, having mistaken them for dogs. It was his business to feed the animals, and having neglected one morning to cut the potatoes small enough, a young calf was un- fortunately choked from a piece too large sticking in her throat. The dead calf was laid under a fence not far from the shanty, and the boy having been severely scolded for ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 245 his carelessness, remained sulkily within doors by himself. He was engaged in peeling a long stick for an ox-whip, when he heard, as he thought, the barking of some dogs over the dead car- case of the calf; he rushed out with the long stick in his hand, and saw four or five animals busily tearing oif the flesh from the calf; without a moment's reflection he ran in among them, shouting and hallooing with all his might, and so valiantly laid about him with his stick that they all ran ofl* to the covert of the forest, where they turned ; and he heard a series of yells and howls which made his blood run cold, for he knew the sound well, and saw that they were wolves and not dogs whose repast he had in- terrupted. He said, that so great was his terror that he could hardly get back to the shanty and fasten the door. All the Canadian wild animals are timid ; 246 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. they only begin to prowl about at dusk ; they never attempt to enter a dwelling, and have a salutary dread of attacking a man ; if attacked themselves they will fight fiercely, and a she- bear with cubs is always dangerous. Since the time I speak of, the settlements all over the district have become very nume- rous, and the quantity of land cleared up is so great that the wild animals keep retreat- ing farther and farther into the recesses of the forest; and even the trappers by pro- fession find their trade much less lucrative than it was, they have so much more difficulty in finding game in any quantity. It is hardly possible to make people under- stand, who are unacquainted with Bush-life, what the early settlers in Muskoka and other parts had to suffer. Young creatures with their babie* were left alone in situations which in more settled countries call for the greatest care and tenderness, and in desolate ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 247 solitudes where they were far from all human help. Three weeks before the birth of my fourth child I became so ill with erysipelas that my husband thought he had better go to the place where my parents lived — more than twenty miles off, and bring back one of my sisters to nurse me. He started after break- fast, and soon after he left I became so dread- fully ill that I could not lift my head from the pillow, or indeed turn myself in the bed. My children, of the respective ages of two, four, and six, were playing about, and as I lay watching them my terror was extreme lest one of them should fall into the fire ; I can hardly tell how they fed themselves, or got to bed, or got up the next morning, for by that time I could move neither hand nor foot, and was in dreadful pain. Thus I lay all day, all night, and all the next day till the 248 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. evening, when my husbanJi returned with one of my sisters. After that I became delirious, and had hardly recovered when ray child was born. As soon as our land was well cleared up and a good house built, my husband sold the property and bought a piece of ground at Belle Ewart, where we have lived ever since, as his health would not allow him to continue farming. I was always afraid when living in the Bush of the children being lost when they began to run about. The Bush at that time was so wild, and so few paths through it, that there was every fear of children straying once they turned off the narrow track. A poor little boy, of eight years old, living some miles from us, was lost for more than a week, and only by a miracle was found alive. There was a windfall caused by a hurricane, not very far from his father's shanty. It was ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSIL 249 not very broad, but extended in length for more than twenty miles, distinctly marking out the path of the tempest as it swept through the Bush. AH this windfall was overgrown with blackberry-bushes, and at this time of year (the autumn) there wore quantities of fruit, and parties used to be made for picking them, with a view to pre- sei'ving. Our poor little wanderer having strayed alone one morning and reached the windfall, began to eat the berries with great delight, and kept going about from bush to bush, till when it got late he became so bewildered that he could no longer tell in which direction his home lay. Days went by ; he was missed and hunted for, but misled by some imagin- ary trace the first parties went in quite a wrong direction. The child had no sustenance but the fruit ; at length he became too much exhausted to 250 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. pick, and, as he described it, only felt sleepy. Providentially, in passing an uprooted tree, he saw underneath a large hole, and creep- ing in found it warm, soft, and dry, being apparently well lined with moss and leaves. Here he remained till found by a party who fortunately took the direction of the windfall, accompanied by a sagacious dog used to tracking bears and other game. The parties searching would have passed the tree, which was a little out of the track, and many others of the kind lying about, but seeing the dog suddenly come to a stop and begin sniffing and barking they made a care- ful examination ; they found the poor child in his concealment almost at the point of death, and so scratched by the brambles and stained by the juice of the berries as to be scarcely recognisable. They had had the precaution to take with them a bottle of new milk, and very carefully they put down his ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 251 throat a little at a time till he was able to swallow freely. Now comes the extraordinary part of the story. The nights were already very chilly ; when asked on his recovery if he had not felt the cold, he replied, " Oh no 1" and said that every night at dusk a large brown dog came and lay down by him, and was so kind and good-natured that it let him creep quite close to it, and put his arms round it, and that in this way he slept quite warm. He added, that the brown dog went away every morning when it was light. Of course, as there was no large dog answering to this description in any of the adjacent settlements, and as the poor child was evidently in a bear's den, people could not but suppose that it was a hear who came to his side every evening, and that the animal, moved by some God-given instinct, refrained from injuring the forlorn child. Years afterwards this boy used to 252 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN IWSIl. talk of the " kind brown dog " who had kept him so nice and warm in his hole in the tree. My last fright from a bear was only a few years ago, when I was driving a married daughter home, who had been with me to pay a visit to a friend in the Bush twelve miles off. We had one of her little children with us, and were driving slowly, though the road was a good one, as the horse had been many miles that day. It was getting dusk, and the road, being narrow like all Bush roads, was very gloomy. We were talking quietly of the visit we had just paid, when from the thick top of a tree overhanging the roadside, dropped down a large bear, who just grazed the back of the buggy in his fall. I had but a glimpse of him, as hearing the noise I turned my head for an instant ; my daughter's wild shriek of alarm as she clutched her little one firmly, added to the growl of the bear, so frightened ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 253 our horso that he dashed off at full speed, and providentially nieetinj^ with no obstacle, never stopped till ho reached the fence of my husband's clearing. Even when locked into the house for the night we could hardly fancy ourselves in safety. The respectable person to whom I was indebted for the above anecdotes, and who was in the capacity of nurse-tender to the mistress of the hotel where I was staying, was much to my regret suiMenly called away to a fresh situation, by which I lost many more of her interesting experiences, for as she truly said, numberless were the ex- pedients by which the wives of the early settlers protected themselves and their little ones during the unavoidable absences of their husbands. The pleasant gentlemanly host of the hotel where I was staying at Bracebridge told me of his sitting entranced, when a little 254 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. child, at the feet of his old grandmother, to hear her stories of the wild beasts which abounded at the time of her first settlement in the Canadian wilderness. Her husband belonged to an old and wealthy family in America, who, remaining loyal during the war of Independence, were driven over into Canada and all their property con- fiscated. They settled down, glad to be in safety in a wild unfrequented part ; and whenever provisions were wanting, it was an affair of some days for the husband to go and return, the nearest settlement being fifty miles off. Packs of wolves used to prowl about the log-hut as evening came on, and during the night the barking and howling was dreadful to hear ; the only thing to keep them off was a large fire of pine-logs which his grandfather used to light of an evening as near the house as was consistent with safety. It depended ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 255 on which way the wind blew at which end of the log-hut the fire was made. When he went away on an expedition, he used to take out a large chink at each end of the house and leave his wife an immense pointed pole, with which, putting it through the chink- hole, she was enabled in safety to brand up the fire, that is to draw the logs together so as to last through the night. Wplves have long disappeared into the depths of the forest ; a chance one may now and then be heard of, but rarely in the vicinity of large clearings. The visits of bears are becoming more and more frequent, for Bruin is very partial to young pig, and does not disdain a good meal of ripe grain. The barley-patch in my clearing, as the corn began to ripen this summer, was very much trodden down by a bear whose tracks were plainly to be seen, and he was supposed to be located in a cedar-swamp on my land, as : 25G ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. every now and then he was seen, but always coming to or from that direction. One night we were roused from our sleep by a fearful noise of cattle-bells outside of the fence, and when we went out we found that there was a regular " stampede " of all the cattle in the immediate neighbourhood ; cows, oxen, steers, were all tearing madly through the Bush towards a road at the other side of a deep gully near the edge of my lot. They were evidently flying from the pursuit of some wild animal. Presently on the still night air rose a horrid fierce growl which was repeated at intervals two or three times, getting fainter in th.^ distance till it quite died away. We all recognised the noise we had recently heard in France from the bears in a travelling show, only much fiercer and louder. My son, fully armed, started in pursuit, accom- panied by a young friend armed also, but ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 257 though, guided by the noise, they went far down the road, they caught but one glimpse of Bruin in the moonlight as he disappeared down a deep gully and from thence into the Bush, where at night it would not have been safe to follow him. Hoping that towards morning he might, us is usually the case, return the same way, they seated themselves on a log by the road- side close to the edge of the forest that they might not be palpably in the bear's sight, and there they remained for some hours till the cold of the dawn warned them to come home, being very lightly clad. The very next evening my son and his friend were pistol-shooting at a mark fixed on a tree at the end of the clearing, when " Black Bess," the dog, gave tongue and rushed into the forest on the aide next the c^idiir-swamp. Guided by ler barking the two gcntleiueu followed quickly, and this time had a full 17 Wi 258 ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. view in broad daylight of a large brown bear in full flight, but never got within shooting dis- tance. Unluckily the dog, though a good one for starting game, was young and untrained, and had not the sense to head the animal back so as to enable her master to get within range. This bear baffled all the arts of the settlers to get at it, and settlers with cows and oxen were mostly afraid to set traps for fear of accidents to their cattle. A short time ago a settler living on the Muskoka Road was returning to his home by a short cut through the Bush, when he came suddenly upon a she-bear with two cubs. He had no weapon but a small pocket-knife, and hoped tc steal past unobserved, but in a moment the beast attacked him, knocked his knife out of his hand and tore his arm from the shoulder to the wrist. He would pro- bably have been killed but that his shouts brought up a party of men working on the I ' ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. 259 Government road at no great distance, and Mrs. Bruin was only too glad to get safe off with her progeny into the depths of the Bush. Two or three bears and a lynx were killed in the fall of 1873, in the vicinity of Brace- bridge, and one within a mile of the village, on the road to the " South Falls," one of my favourite walks when T was staying there. There is, however, but little danger of meet- ing any wild animal in the broad daylight. The words of David in the 104th Psalm are as strictly true now as they were in his time : " The sun ariseth, they gather themselves together, and lay them down in their dens." 17—2 TERRA INCOGNITA; OR, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. .! THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. N reading the history of newly- settled countries and the rise and progress of mighty states, nothing is more interesting than to trace the wonder- ful and rapid results which spring from the smallest beginnings. In changing the wilder- ness int*. a fruitful land, we notice first the laborious efforts to raise the rude and coarse necessaries of daily life, then the struggles for convenience and comfort,, then the gradual demand for the luxuries of a higher civilisa- I! 264 TERRA INCOGNITA; tion. These last can only be obtained by the jjrowth and encouragement of the orna- mental as well as useful arts ; then comes the dawning of political power, till at length we see with anmscment that the scattered hamlet has become a thriving village, the village a jiopulous town, and the town expanded into a stately city, carrying wealth, commerce, and civilisation to the remotest parts of what a few years back was simi)ly unbroken forest. Such is the future which, under the fulfil- ment of certain conditions, we may confi- dently predict for the free-grant lands of Muskoka, to which the Canadian Govern- ment arc making strenuous efforts to draw the tide of emigration. Nothing can well be more picturesque than the tract of country already embracing twelve town- ships which constitutes the district of Muskoka, so called, not from the poetical tradition of " clear skies," " no clouds," which is by no means applicable to this variable on, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. 265 climate, but more probably from Musquoto, the name of a Chippewa chief, which has been handed down to the present time, though every trace of Indian occupation has long been effaced. Hill and dale, wood and water, a winding river, tributary streams, rapid waterfalls breaking the solitude with their wild music, the large Muskoka lake, smaller lakes on many of the lots ; all these charms combine to form most beautiful scenery. Unfortu- nately the settlers, looking upon the trees as their natural enemies, hew them down with inexorable rancour, quite ignoring the fact that if they were to clear more judi- ciously, leaving here and there a clump of feathery balsams, or a broad belt of pine, spruce, maple, and birch, they would have some shelter for their crops from the destroying north-west wind, and some shade for their log-houses during the burning heat of summer. li f 206 TEJiBA INCOGNITA; >i ??" Having been located in the township of Stephenson for more than two years, I am able to make some observations on the sub- ject, and I find that as most of the settlers in my neighbourhood belong to the lower classes, they have but little sense of the beautiful in any shape, and no appreciation whatever of picturesque scenery. A settler of this class is perfectly satisfied with his own performance when he has cleared thirty or forty acres on his lot, leaving nothing so large as a gooseberry-bush to break the dreary uniformity of the scene. The London of Muskoka is the pretty thriving town of Bracebridge. I say pretty, advisedly, for its situation on the river Muskoka is beautiful, the scenery highly varied, the environs abounding in lovely walks and choice bits of landscape which an artist might delight to portray. Ten years ago the first adventurous settler on, THE iriLDS OF MVSKOKA. 2C7 built his lo<(-hut on the hill south of the present town between the pretty falls at the entrance and the South Falls at three miles' distance. All was then unbroken forest, its solitude only disturbed by occasional visits from a few scattered Chippewa Indians or lonely trappers in pursuit of the game, more and more driven northward by the advancing tide of civilisation. A few statistics of Bracebridge at the close of the present year (1873) will show what progress has been made in every department. Population .... . 800 Children attending public schools - 250 Children attending four Sunday schools - 200 Number of churches . - - - 4 Clergymen .... - G Medical doctors ... - 2 Barristers, attorneys, conveyancers - 7 Stores - . . . . . 15 In course of erection ... - 6 Hotels - 6 Printing-offices- . . - - 2 ill IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) t ^ ^ '/¥^ /- y. 1.0 I.I 1.25 ;^ ilia >^ ilM !r IIM IM 2.2 1.4 IM 1.6 <^ W /a ^l m. (^ r ^% fi: ^^^^ '/ /A m Photographic Sciences Corporation 4. iP V :\ '^ \ 6^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 f/. I f :\ 268 TERRA INCOGNITA ; Saw-mills . . « - 4 Grist and flour mill - - - 1 Carding mill and woollen factory - - 1 Shoe shops - - - 3 Butchers' shops - « - 3 Blacksmiths' shops - - - 4 Bakers' shops - - - . 4 Besides these are many wheelwriglits, carpenters, joiners, etc. The gentleman who wrote to the Daily News in England from Huntsville in this neighbourhood, most unduly disparaged the little town of Brace- bridge, but as he visited Muskoka in excep- tionally bad weather at the close of a long- continued rainy season, and as his stay in the district was limited to a few days at most, his opinion can hardly be received as gospel truth. His dismay at the mud in the streets and the general badness of the roads was very natural in a stranger to this part of Canada. We certainly are greatly in want of assistance from some McAdam, and we OR, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. 269 have every hope that improvement in our roads, as in everything else, will reach us in time. The climate of Muskoka is most favour- able to health, even to invalids, provided they have no consumptive tendencies. For all pulmonary complaints it is most un- suitable, on account of the very sudden atmospheric changes. The short summer, with its inevitable accompaniment of tor- "QCTiting mosquitoes, is burning hot, and the winter, stretching sometimes over seven months of the year, is intensely cold, and both these extremes render it a trying climate for consumptive patients. The air, however, is pure, clear, and bracing, and nervous and dyspeptic invalids soon lose many of their unpleasant sensations. A gentleman who formed one of our little colony when we came out in 1871, has to ''rank the air of Muskoka for the entire J 270 TEBRA INCOGNITA ; renovation of his health. His constitution was very much shattered by over-working his brain during a long course of scholastic pursuits, and as his only chance of re- covery, he was ordered an entire change of climate and out-door occupation instead of study. The Bush-life and the pure air worked miracles ; his recovery was complete, and he has been now, for some months, in holy orders as a clergyman of the Church of England. He is able to preach three times every Sabbath day, and to perform all the arduous duties of an out-station without undue fatigue or exhaustion. The same gentleman's eldest child has derived as much benefit as his father from the change of climate. At five years old, when he was brought to Muskoka, he was most deUcate, and had from infancy held life by a most precarious tenure ; but at the present time he OR, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. 271 is a very fine specimen of healthy and robust childhood. The twelve townships of Muskoka are increasing their population every day, from the steady influx of emigrants from the old country. It is most desirable that an Emigrant's Home should be established in Bracebridge for the purpose of giving gratuitous shelter and assistance to the poorer class of emigrants, and sound and reliable advice to all who might apply for it. In my " Plea for Poor Emigrants," con- tributed to the Free Grant Gazette, I earnestly endeavoured to draw public at- tention to this great want, and I still hope that when the necessary funds can be raised, something of the sort will be provided. Government has thrown open the free- grant lands to every applicant above the age of eighteen years ; each one at that age may take up a lot of one hundred acres ; the I 372 TERRA INCOGNITA: head of a family is allowed two hundred. The person located is not absolute master of the land till the end of five years from the date of his or her location, when, if the stipulated conditions have been fulfilled, the patent is taken out, and each holder of a lot becomes a freehold proprietor. The con- ditions are simply that he shall have cleared and got under cultivation fifteen acres, and have raised a log-house of proper dimen- sions. Government found that some restrictions were absolutely necessary, as unprincipled speculators took up lots which they never meant to cultivate or settle on, but for the fraudulent purpose of felling and selling off the pine timber, and then leaving the country. When a person has it in view to come to Muskoka, let him as much as possible abstain from reading any of the books published on OP, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. 273 the subject. Without accusing those who write them of wilfully saying the thing that is not, I must say that the warmth of their colouring and the unqualified praise they bestow greatly misleads ignorant people. The poor emigrant comes out to Muskoka firmly believing it to be a veritable *' Land of Promise" flowing with milk and honey, an El Dorado where the virgin soil only requires a slight scratching to yield cent, per cent. His golden visions speedily vanish ; he finds the climate variable, the crops un- certain, the labour very hard, and Bush- farming for the first four or five years very uphill work. If, however, instead of yield- ing to discouragement he steadily perseveres, he may feel assured of ultimately attaining at least a moderate degree of success. It is also necessary for a settler in Muskoka to get out of his head once and for ever all his traditions of old-country farming. Bush- 18 274 TERRA INCOGNITA; farming is different in every respect ; the seasons are different, the spring seldom opens till the middle of May, and between that time and the end of September, all the farm- work of sowing, reaping, and storing away must be completed. The winters are mostly occupied in chopping. The best way for obtaining an insight into Bush-farming is for the newly-arrived emigrant to hire him- self out to work on another person's ground for at least a year before finally settling upon his own. This is his wisest plan, even should he bring out (which is not generally the case) sufficient capital to start with. We sadly feel the want in our settlement of a few farmers of better education, and of a higher range of intelligence, who, having a little experience as well as money, might leaven the ignorance which occasions so many mis- takes and so much failure among our poorer OB, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. 275 brethren in the Bush. It has been said that " a donation of a hundred acres is a descent into barbarism," but few would be inclined to endorse this opinion who had witnessed, as I have done for two years, the patient daily- toil, the perseverance under difficulties and privations, the self-denial, the frugality, the temperance, and the kind helpfulness of one another, found in the majority of our settlers. A black sheep may now and then be found in every flock, and it is undeniable that the very isolation of each settler on his own clearing, and the utter absence of all con- ventional restraint, engenders something of lawlessness, of contempt for public opinion, and occasionally of brutality to animals, but only I am bound to say in the ungenial and depraved natures of those whose conduct out of the Bush would be equally reprehensible. After all the pros and the cons of emigra- tion to Muskoka have been fully discussed, 18—2 27G TERRA INCOGNITA ; one fact stands prominently forward for the consideration of the labouring classes of Great Britain. The free grants offer an inestimable boon to the agricultural and the manufacturing population. The workmen in both these classes spend the prime of their health and strength in working for others, and after suffering with perhaps wives and families incredible hardships from cold and hunger, which cannot be kept away by insufficient wages, have nothing to look forward to in their declining years but the tender mercies of their parish workhouse, or the precarious charity of their former masters. In emi- grating to Muskoka they may indeed count upon hard work, much privation, and many struggles and disappointments, but they may be equally certain that well-directed energy, unflagging industry and patient perseverance, will after a few years insure them a compe- OR, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. 277 tence, if not afiluence, and will enable them to leave to their children an inheritance and a position which would have been almost impossible of attainment in the old country. A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. I A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. oj*:c URING a visit of some weeks to Bracebridge, at the close of last winter, I was much interested in watching the different parties of emigrants who came into the town, many of them with wives and families, some without, but all looking more or less weary and travel-worn. I noticed also in the countenances of many of the men a perplexed and uneasy expres- sion, as if they hardly knew where to go or what to do next. Who but must feel the deepest sympathy 282 A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. with these poor wayfarers, whose troubles, far from ending when they have safely crossed the broad Atlantic, seem to begin afresh and to gather strength during the long and wearisome journey from Quebec to Mus- koka. All along the line are paid agents, who strive to turn the tide of emigration in any other direction than this district of Muskoka, and who perplex the tired traveller with recommendations to various places, and with no end of unsought advice. Till very lately, Muskoka was but little known, and as a fitting place for emigration was greatly undervalued. I remember with some amusement that during my journey with my family from Quebec to Bracebridge, two years ago, it was sufficient in conversa- tion to utter the cabalistic word " Muskoka," for us to be immediately treated to ad- monitory shakes of the head, shrugs of the A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. 283 shoulders, uplifted hands, and very clearly expressed opinions that we were rushing to certain destruction. Now, ive emigrated with a definite pur- pose in view. We were bound to a specific locality, and were in fact coming to join members of the family who had preceded us ; but the remarks addressed to us were any- thing but cheering, and it may be imagined what an effect similar discouragements must have upon the poorer class of emigrants, whose slender resources have been taxed to the utmost to bring them out at all — who feel that poverty renders the step they have taken irretrievable, and who arrive at Brace- bridge full of doubts and fears as to their comfortable settlement and ultimate suc- cess. Happy would it be for the emigrant, mar- ried or single, if his difficulties were ended by his safe arrival at Bracebridge ; but such n 284 A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. is not the case. As in all communities there will be an admixture of worthless and de- signing characters, so in our thriving little town are to be found a few who lie in wait for the unwary, and throw temptation in the path of those who are not fortified by strong religious principle. Should an unmarried emigrant, a young man from the " old coun- try" — with apparently a tolerable stock of money and clothes — arrive, he is at once followed and courted with professions of friendship, and on the plea of good fellow- ship is tempted to drink at the bars of the different hotels, and to join in the low gam- bling which seems unfortunately to be the special vice of Muskoka. Not till his money is all expended is the victim left to himself; and too often he has to begin his Bush-life penniless, or thankfully to engage in some job of hard work which will at least secure his daily bread. ./ PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. l>85 The married emigrant likewise is often deceived and misled by people as ignorant as himself, who give him altogether false im- pressions of the value of his land, the price of labour and provisions, the tools he ought to buy, the crops he ought to put in, and many other details essential to his success in Bush- farming. I speak from experience in saying that nothing can exceed the kindness and urbanity of the Commissioner of Crown Lands to all and every one going to his office for the pur- pose of taking up land ; but it would be ob- viously impossible for this gentleman, and incompatible with the public duties of him- self and his assistants, to enter minutely into the wants and requirements of each indi- vidual emigrant, or to give that detailed advice and assistance which in many cases is so absolutely necessary. Could not much be done, and many evils 286 A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. be obviated, by the establishment of an " Emigrant Home " in the town, to which all incoming emigrants might be directed by large printed cards conspicuously hung up in the bar of every hotel ? The superintendent of the home ought to be a man of some education, of sound common sense, of large Christian sympathy, one who would feel it a pleasure as well as a duty to smooth the path of the weary travellers Avho accepted the gratuitous shelter provided for them. Surely for such a desir- able object as the one in view, the sanction and co-operation of the Dominion Govern- ment might be obtained, and a sum of money granted to establish the home, which might then be kept up by small annual subscriptions from the wealthier inhabitants of Bracebridge, whose commercial prosperity must so greatly depend upon the settlements beyond and about it. Numbers of e^ ligrants A PLEA ton POOH EMIGRANIS. 287 come in every year who have left behind them in the old country dear friends and relations, Avho only wait for their favourable verdict upon the promised land, to come out and join them. Would it not be well that emigrants should be enabled to write home truthfullv and gratefully that they were met on their arrival at Bracebridge with brotherly kind- ness, Christian sympathy, shelter for their wives and families, sound reliable advice as to their future course, and help and encou- ragement suited to their especial need ? Tt may be urged that pecuniary assistance and gratuitous shelter for his wife and children would impair the self-respect of the emigrant, and place him in the light of a pauper to himself and others. I do not think this would lie the case. It appears to me that an emigrant, arriving as too many do with his means utterly ex- «v^ r 288 A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. hausted and with little but starvation in view for his family and himself, would have his British feelings of sturdy independence con- siderably modified, and would be willing to accept of the help tendered to him, not as a charitable dole from those above him in rank, but as a willing offering from those who for their Saviour's sake acknowledge a common brotherhood with every suffering member of the great human family. Nor would the establishment of such a home at all interfere with the legitimate profits of the hotel- keepers. From personal observation, I can testify that in numerous cases they are called upon to give, and do most liberally give, food and shelter gratuitously to those who cannot pay. Of course such a plan as this would have to be matured and carried out by wise heads and efficient hands. I can only humbly offer a suggestion which seems to me worthy of A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. 289 consideration, and I cannot end my few ob- servations better than with the refrain of a deservedly popular song : " Then do your best for one another, Making life a pleasant dream -, Help a worn and weary brother Pulling hard against the stream." THE END. BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, OUILOFORD, SURREY. 8. &. H. INGOLDSBY LEGENDS; OR, Mirth' and Marvels. The Illustrated Edition. With Sixty Illustrations by Criiikshank, Leech, and Ten- NIEL ; and cover designed by John Leighton, P\S. A. Crown 4to., cloth, bevelled boards, gilt edges. 2is. "A series of humorous legends, illustrated by three such men as Cruik- SHANK, Lkhch, and Tenniei.— what can be more tempting?"— y/w/M- " Abundant in humour, observation, fancy; in extensive IcnowledKC of books and men ; in palpable hits of character, excitusite grave irony, and the most whim- sical indulgence in point of epigram. We cannot open a page that is not sparkling with its wit and humour, that is not ringing with its strokes of pleasantry and satire."- -Exauiiner. The Annotated Edition. A Library Edition, with a History of each Legend, and other Notes, and some original Legends now first published. In 2 vols., demy 8vo., with an original Frontispiece by Georcik Cruik-SHANK; and all the Illustrations by Cruikshank and Leech, including two new ones by the latter artist. Edited by the Rev. RICHARD DALTON BARHAM. 24s. The Burlington Edition. In large clear type, in 3 vols., fcap. 8vo. los. 6d. " Yet another edition of Barham's immortal work, beautifully printed and chastely bound."— 77/^ World. The Carmine Edition. In Crown 8vo. With 17 Illustrations by CRriKSiiANK and Leech, with gilt edges and bevelled boards. los, 6d. The Popular Edition. Crown 8 vo. Plain edges, 5s.; gilt edges, with Three Illustra- tions, 6s. The "Victoria" Edition. In fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. The Jackdaw of Bheims. An Edition of this celebrated Legend in 4to., with Twelve highly coloured Illustrations, extra cloth, gilt edges, 7s. T» be obtained at every Booksellers. 6d. RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. « At all Booksellers', in demy Svo., price l2s. The Heavens. An Illustrated Handbook of Popular Astronomy. 13y Amehee GuiLLEMiN. Edited by J. Norman LocKYER, F.R. A. S. Anen- tirely New and Revised Edition, embodying all the latest discoveries in Astronomical Science. With nearly 200 Illustrations. " If anything can make the study of astronomy easy and engaging to ordinary minds, it will assuredly be a work of the attractive style and handsome aspect o.' M. Guillcmin's treatise on 'The Heavens.' It deserves tu be spoken of with all praise, as one towards which author, editor, illustrator, and publisher have equally done their best. Of the translation itself we cannot speak too highly— it has all the force and freshness of original wril'mg."— Sat urifny Knieiv. 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