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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a8c15d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52972 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52972) diff --git a/old/52972-0.txt b/old/52972-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6fb3ea0..0000000 --- a/old/52972-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4539 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Letters from Muskoka, by Harriet Barbara King - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Letters from Muskoka - -Author: Harriet Barbara King - -Release Date: September 3, 2016 [EBook #52972] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM MUSKOKA *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - LETTERS FROM MUSKOKA. - - BY - AN EMIGRANT LADY. - - [Illustration] - - LONDON: - RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, - Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen. - 1878. - - [_All Rights Reserved._] - - - - -PREFACE TO THE “LETTERS OF AN EMIGRANT LADY.” - - -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 happy home in France, which, -with 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-lès-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 war 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! - -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 of seven feet. Our large, rambling, convenient 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 notified 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 intelligence 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 -helped 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. - -At this time I had a married daughter residing at Guiñes, 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 Guiñes, 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 store. In Calais we remained -till nearly the beginning of winter, when my son-in-law took his family -back to Guiñes 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 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 -immediately 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 carelessness 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, 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 disinclined to try farming, being fond of an outdoor active -life, we came to the decision to emigrate. - -He relinquished his excellent situation, his employers behaving -with the greatest kindness 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, we came out hoping in our innocence that strong -hearts, willing 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 -employment. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - PREFACE v - - LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY 1 - - PART II.--LETTERS WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTERWARDS 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 - - - - -LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. - - - - -LETTER I. - - -You ask me, my dear child, to give you a few particulars of our voyage -across the Atlantic to Canada, our journey from Quebec to the Bush of -Muskoka, and our residence here as emigrant farmers for the last year. -As in my diary I have only chronicled the bare events of each passing -day, you must only expect outlines of Bush life, and not well filled up -pictures. I pass over the anguish of my separation from you and your -dear ones, and can only say that when I thought of the attached circle -of friends we were leaving behind us, both in France and England, whom -probably we should never see again, I felt strongly tempted to remain; -but the fact that others of the family had preceded us, and would be -expecting our arrival, that our baggage was already shipped, and that -your brother had taken leave of his friendly employers, who to the last -counselled him to retain his situation, had weight enough with me to -prevent any change of plan. We went on board the good ship _T----s_ -lying in the Thames, at least twenty-four hours too soon, and lay awake -the whole of the first night, as the carpenters never ceased working, -the ship having met with an accident on her previous voyage. - -The next morning I was greatly grieved to find that your brother had -only engaged _two_ first-cabin berths for your sister and myself; -and finding that our purse was very scantily filled, had, with his -usual self-denial, taken a steerage passage for himself, and got a -good-natured quartermaster to take charge of our dear French dog old -“Nero,” who forthwith became a _stowaway_, and was smuggled out of -sight. - -When the vessel was ready, we dropped down the river to Gravesend, and -having taken in more passengers and emigrants, we started for Plymouth. -We remained there for a few hours, and I pointed out to your brother -and sister the beautiful spot called “Drake’s Island,” where, long -before _they_ were born, I had passed a delightful summer 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 tremendous gale set in which lasted for several -days and nights. - -I had been in storms two or three times off the Irish coast, but -confess that I never felt so frightened as when at every roll our ship -gave (and she _was_ a _roller_), we heard a horrid grating sound which -we shrewdly suspected to be caused by part of our cargo of iron which -had shifted its place, and kept moving with every motion of the ship. -We were told on arriving at Quebec that this unexpected 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 was hardly able to get up during the whole passage. - -The tedium of our confinement was, however, much relieved by the -pleasant society and kindness of two most amiable English ladies, who -were going out to reside with a 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 sobriquet of “Jupiter and his -satellites!” Mr. H----s was a portly negro of an imposing presence, -and a benign expression of countenance 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 Englishwoman, with a remarkably fair complexion. She also told us -an amusing 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. - -“You know the sort of book we want, H----s,” said they; “plenty of -love and fighting, and battles, and all that sort of thing!” - -“I understand, gentlemen,” said Mr. H----s, and presently returned with -a _large Bible_ which he placed before them. “There, gentlemen, you -will find in that book all you want--beautiful love stories, fierce -wars, and plenty of battles!” - -His colour, however, was somewhat against him, and I could hardly keep -my countenance when a young under-steward, to whom we were indebted for -much attention, said to me with quite an injured air, “You know, ma’am, -it does take it out of a feller to have to say ‘sir’ to a nigger!” - -Of the young friend C. W., who came out with us, we saw but little, for -though he had a first-class berth, he was a great deal in the steerage -with your brother, who was a veritable “Mark Tapley” among the poor -emigrants. He helped the minister in charge to keep order among them, -he procured all manner of little extra comforts for the sick women from -the surly cooks, and was the delight of all the children, who followed -him in troops. He managed to be a good deal in our cabin when we were -too ill to move, and also came to us on deck when we were able to crawl -there. He was a favourite with all our fellow-passengers, and every -lady knew she might depend upon his gentlemanly attentions if required. -This comforted me a little for his being in such a disagreeable -position. - -The sea continued very rough indeed even after we were in the Gulf of -St. Lawrence, and though I thought the _real blue water_ which I saw -for the first time very beautiful, yet I could by no means join in the -raptures of my fellow-passengers, but strictly averred, that although -a passionate admirer of “Old Ocean,” it was most decidedly when I -viewed it from _terra-firma_. I will not weary you with minute details -of our slow passage up the beautiful St. Lawrence, nor dilate upon the -interest I felt in watching, first the thinly-scattered white huts, -and afterwards the thickly-clustered villages of the “habitants,” with -their curious churches and shining spires, backed by the dark pine -forests, and behind them ranges of blue-capped mountains, compared with -which the hills of my own dear England were as hillocks. - -We landed at Quebec and went to the Victoria Hotel, where your sister -and I passed a few miserable hours of suspense and anxiety. We found -ourselves at the very beginning of an immense journey utterly without -means to carry us on beyond the first few stages. The little extra -expenses paid on leaving the ship, and the clearing our baggage as far -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 unavoidable -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 -nearly starving, as we did not like to go to the _table-d’hôte_ 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 begun. - - - - -LETTER II. - - -My 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 ourselves, but were some time in settling comfortably, 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 himself to death. - -I noticed very little in the neighbourhood of Quebec, being too much -occupied with my own sad thoughts, and regrets for those I had left -behind; but I did observe that the cows, horses, and pigs all appeared -very small and manifestly inferior to the cattle in England. - -During this journey I could not help contrasting 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 perpetrated 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 imagining how greatly it would add to -the expense of the journey. Sleep, however, I found to be impossible -in these close boxes, tier above 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 we 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 scattered about. It was a cheerless prospect, and we were -thankful when at length we went on. - -We passed the morning more agreeably, as the guard, a quiet, -intelligent man, entered into conversation with us. He was telling -us of a curious and erudite book about to be published at Boston, -Massachusetts, compiled by one of his relations, from numerous 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 _Mayflower_, and from -that time to the present 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 annual 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, 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 were, 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 carriages, he was recognised, and they immediately vociferated, -“Mr. K.! Mr. K.! three cheers for Mr. K.!” Then arose three deafening -cheers, which died away in the distance; but not before your sister -and I, looking out of the window, saw an indefinite 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 occurred, 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 torrent, with 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, in which he had -been a reluctant participator, the week before, and which occurred -to a train in a similar position to ours. This train waited for many -hours, _was_ at last run into, and twenty-five of the passengers were -killed. Your sister heard every word, but 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 respectable, -cheap family hotel, strongly recommended 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 saloon; where, from not knowing the hours, -we were all but starved; and where it was hardly possible to obtain a -civil answer from any 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 _willing_, 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 lurid glare of -the burning trees in the far-off forest became appalling, as well as -magnificent. 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 -thoughtlessness. - -We slept that 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 beautiful part of our journey. The day was bright -and clear, the water blue, and the scenery most beautiful. All was -changed when we landed at Orillia. We had to leave our nice, roomy, -well-appointed steamer for a filthy, over-crowded little boat, where we -had hardly standing-room. - -I now saw, for the first time, _real live Indians_, both men and women, -some of each being on board the boat. Their encampment on the lake -was likewise pointed out to me. Alas for my enthusiasm! Alas for my -remembrance of youthful delight over Cooper’s enchanting novels! 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 ordinary mortals the dignified -and graceful “Uncas,” or the stately and warlike “Chingachook!” We -landed at Washage, and after standing for more than an hour on the -quay, took the stage-wagon for Gravenhurst, the vehicle being so -crowded that even the personal baggage most essential to our comfort -had to be left behind. Oh! the horrors of that journey! The road was -most dreadful--our first acquaintance with “corduroy” roads. The -forest gradually closed in upon 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 to cling convulsively -to the rope which secured the passengers’ baggage (ours was left -behind and we did not see it for weeks) to avoid being thrown out, -and for long afterwards we both suffered from the bruises we received -and the strain upon our limbs. At last, long after dark, we arrived -at Gravenhurst, where we were obliged to sleep, as the 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-in-law advising me to go before the commissioner 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, as I had already -left. Unfortunately our means were too exhausted to allow of our -remaining 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 the 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 Devonshire, -told me afterwards how sincerely she pitied us, and said to her husband -when we were gone, “That poor lady and her daughter little know what -hardships they are about to encounter in the ‘Bush!’” The drive from -Bracebridge to Utterson, the nearest post-town to our settlement and -distant from it six miles, was a long and fatiguing stretch of fifteen -miles, but unmarked by any incident of consequence. The forest fires -were burning fiercely, and our driver told us that a week before the -road had been impassable. At times when the trees were burning at -each side of the narrow road we felt a hot stifling air as we passed -rapidly along. It was a gloomy afternoon, with fitful gusts of wind -portending a change of weather, and we were almost smothered in -clouds of Muskoka dust, much resembling pounded bricks. When we got -to Utterson we were obliged to remain for two hours to rest the poor -horses, as no fresh ones were to be got. While at the little tavern we -heard that your brother C. had been married a few weeks before, as we -expected, and that your dear sister F., with her husband, children, and -the _fiancée_, had rested there on their way to the “Bush,” six weeks -before our arrival. We were more easy in our minds after this. We were -near our journey’s end, the dear ones who had preceded us were all -well, and the marriage which for four years I had been endeavouring -to secure for your youngest brother had been happily accomplished. -_I_ alone of all our party felt a hopeless depression of spirits, a -presentiment of long months of unhappiness. Our drive from Utterson was -short, but we went slowly, and it was late in the day before we turned -into the “Bush.” Our driver called the path we were going a “road;” -I saw nothing but a narrow track with frightful stumps, over which -our wagon jolted in a manner to endanger our limbs; indeed, though -more than three miles from your brother-in-law’s, we soon insisted -on walking, thinking it safer. We found the thick undergrowth of -“ground-hemlock” very trying to walk upon, as it caught our feet in an -alarming manner. Our path was intersected by deep gullies, the sides of -which were precipitous. I must say that the horses of this country, -like the mules of Spain, seem wonderfully sure-footed, and the drivers, -who mostly appear as reckless and daring as Irish carmen, guide them -very safely, and accidents rarely occur. - -After we had crossed the second gully, our driver said he could go no -farther, as it would be dark before he got out of the “Bush,” a thing -much dreaded here. Accordingly your brother paid and dismissed him, -and we were left with all our packages by the roadside to find our way -as best we could. Luckily we came upon a very respectable settler, -working on a part of his clearing near the path, who most kindly left -his work and piloted us to your brother-in-law’s lot, where we found -a very small “clearing,” and a log-house in the middle of it. Your -sister F. and the dear children came running out to meet and welcome -us, and after the first warm congratulations, F. and your brother went -to fetch the newly-married couple, who at once came back with them. -There was much to hear and to tell, and you may judge how great was our -dismay to find that those we had come to burthen with our presence, -were for the time being as penniless as ourselves, and that weary and -fatigued as we were, the only refreshment my dear child could offer us -was linseed tea without sugar or milk, and sour, doughy bread which I -could not persuade myself to swallow. Our sleeping arrangements were of -the most primitive description. A scanty curtain shaded off a corner of -the room, where your dear sister made a regular shake-down of all her -little stock of bedding. Here your two sisters, your sister-in-law, the -two children and myself found an ark of refuge. The three gentlemen lay -down in their clothes before the fire; and thus passed our first night -in the “Bush” of Muskoka! - - - - -LETTER III. - - -The next morning, after a brief and very unsatisfactory toilet, and a -breakfast which needs no description, your brother C. and his wife left -us to return to their own log-house, entreating me to go and see them -as soon as I should have recovered from the fatigue of the journey. You -will perhaps wonder that they should have remained the night with us, -over-crowded as we were; but the fact is, when we first came here, the -forest-paths between our lots were so indistinctly marked out and so -little trodden, that to be out after dark was not safe; and, indeed, -it is a rule among the settlers here, that should any one be out after -dark, the nearest neighbour must afford him a shelter till the morning. -To go astray in the “Bush” is dreaded above everything. - -I cannot describe how greatly we were shocked at the changed appearance -of your youngest brother. In spite of his present happiness as a -married man, he bore in his whole appearance the marks of the hardships -he had gone through. He had left us, only a year before, in France in -high health and spirits, expecting to find in America, and especially -in New York, an El Dorado where he might easily employ his little -capital to advantage. We found him now fearfully thin, his handsome -face pinched and worn, and looking certainly ten years older than his -brother, fully five years his senior. In some future letter I must give -you a sketch of his many misfortunes, his failure in New York, and -subsequent settlement in Muskoka, together with the amusing account of -his marriage given me by your sister F. - -My first employment in the Bush was to write to my lawyer, entreating -a further advance of money, and to some kind friends who had already -helped us for the same purpose. - -As soon as this necessary work was finished, I began to look about me, -both outside and inside of the log-house. I found that it was placed -in the centre of a very small “clearing” of not more than half an -acre; and the very sight of the dense forest circling us all round, -with hardly any perceptible outlet, gave me a dreadful feeling of -suffocation, to which was added the constant alarm of fire, for the dry -season had made every twig and leaf combustible. - -Had it not been for these drawbacks, I should greatly have admired -the situation. An amphitheatre of rock behind the house, wooded to the -very top, and the trees tinged with the glowing hues of autumn, was -very picturesque; and the house itself, built upon an eminence, seemed -likely to be dry and comfortable. The house inside was simply one -tolerable-sized room, which, like the cobbler’s stall in the nursery -ballad, was - - “Kitchen, and parlour, and all!” - -It was built of rough, unhewn logs, chinks of wood between the logs, -and the interstices filled up with moss. There were two small windows, -and a door in the front. The size of the house, eighteen feet by -twenty-five. - -When your brother-in-law’s logs for his house were cut, he called a -“raising bee,” which is the custom here. Fourteen of his neighbours -responded to the call. This is 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 -requisite, 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 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. - -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, certainly not conducing to their ornamentation. Your sister, -always fertile in expedients, hangs a curtain before these unseemly -appendages; but my lively imagination pierces behind the veil, and -knowing they are _there_, gives me a feeling of irritation and disgust -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. - -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 blankets 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 carpenters, and this fact they have turned to good account in -the “Bush.” As soon as time could be 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 imminent danger of starvation from the coarse, -bad food, and the difficulty of procuring it from a distance. - -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 provisions in sacks slung upon their shoulders and backs, no -light work I can assure you. - -The staple food of the settlers consists of hard salt pork, potatoes, -oatmeal, molasses, rice, and flour for bread, which every family makes -for itself. According to the “rising,” employed instead of yeast, the -bread was either bitter, sour, or salt, and we only began to get good -bread when our clergyman from Bracebridge, months after our arrival, -recommended us to use the “Twin Brothers’ yeast,” which we found answer -very well. With regard to other articles of consumption, such as tea, -sugar, coffee, etc., I was then, and still am, decidedly of opinion -that we were using up the refuse of all the shops in Toronto. The tea -was full of sloe-leaves, wild raspberry-leaves, and other natural -productions 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 for me to analyse the coffee, -which we really could not drink, but it was a villanous compound, 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 autumn, many of 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. - -We 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 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 abound with fish, we -were so far away 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 which 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 emigration, which -speak of these desirable articles of food as being plentiful, and -within the reach of every settler. - -I certainly arrived with a vague notion that passing deer might 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! 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, except 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 -escort, was much alarmed at hearing a rustling in the “Bush” quite -near her, and a repeated “Ba--a, ba--a!” 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 engaged 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 gentlemanly recreation of shooting. -Your youngest brother was pretty successful in trapping beaver and -musk-rat, and in shooting porcupine; 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 that -impossible, and turned with loathing from the rich repasts prepared -from what I irreverently termed vermin! - -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 -husband. 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 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 _gentlemen_, however well educated, to come out -from the “old country” expecting situations to be numerous and easily -attainable; all introductions from friends of _yours_ to friends of -_theirs_ are for the most part useless, unless indeed addressed to some -commercial 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 -employment. - -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, 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, partly because settlers do -not like coming to a “bee” so late in the year (it was November), and -partly because some of the invitations 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. - -The very next day (November 11th), 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 admiration 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, 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 hymns. 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, Presbyterian, and Wesleyan ministers preached in -turn, and thus some semblance of worship was kept up. I hardly dare -describe the miserable change we found in our employments 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 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 miles off, and had we sent -for him, we had no means 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 _scare-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 attenuated 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 much applauded. -We had also a pudding! Well, the less said about that pudding the -better. Nevertheless, I must record that it contained a _maximum_ of -flour 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! - -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 hymn: “Hark! the herald angels sing!” There -was indeed a sad contrast between the festive meetings of other years, -when our little band was unbroken by death and separation, and when out -of our abundance we could make others happy, and this forlorn gathering -in a strange 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 cheerfulness -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 gentlemen. - -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 imagination filled up with all kind of horrors 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 the 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! - The woodman’s axe, piercing the leafy glade, - Awakes the forest-echoes far and near, - 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 shar’d your regal state-- - Beech, Maple, Balsam, Spruce and Birch--lie prone, - And having grac’d your grandeur--share your fate! - - - - -LETTER IV. - - -New-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 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 acquisition. 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 safety 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, -inexperienced and unused to the axe, sometimes 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 fire-wood. 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 hemmed in with small trees and a -thick undergrowth of brushwood, they always seem cramped, and their -lofty tops unable to spread out to their full size. Hurricanes here are -of frequent occurrence, and at these 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 distinctly 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 enormous -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 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 keeping 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 out we had no means of providing any special outfit, and -therefore brought with us only the ordinary wardrobes of genteel life. -We soon found that all silks, delicate shawls, laces and ornaments, -are perfectly useless here. Every article we possess of that kind is -carefully put 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. Indeed, as our gentlemen -politely phrased it, we made complete “guys” of ourselves, and I must -say that they were not one whit behind 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; or in deep snow “moccasins” or else -“shoe-packs,” the first 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 Montreal. 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 consist 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 resembling a fish, more like -a monstrous sole than any other. We ladies, too, were thankful to lay -aside our French kid boots and delicate slippers, and to wrap our -feet and legs up so completely that they much resembled mill-posts. -Had you or any of our dear friends seen us in our Esquimaux costume, -you would certainly have failed to recognise the well-dressed ladies -and gentlemen 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 but 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! - -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, Canadian sashes and -petticoats for the little children. Sometimes I read to the children -out of their story-books, but _their_ happiest time was when they could -get your sister P----e to give them an hour or two in the evening of -story-telling. 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 especially, who towards night felt much -fatigued. - -Dear children! they required some amusement after the close confinement -of the winter’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 settlers scattered over the neighbourhood came to see -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 conversation really interesting. - -One very picturesque elderly man, tall, spare, and upright, came to -fell some pine-trees contiguous to the 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 unmistakable Kentish accent. It seemed so strange to me at -first, to be shaking hands and sitting at table familiarly with one of -a 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 settlers kindly disposed towards us, and most liberal -in giving us a share of their flower-seeds, plants, and garden 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 sometimes 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 slanderous gossip; but -I am inclined to think not more than will inevitably be found in small -communities. - -As a body, they certainly are hard-working, thrifty, and kind-hearted. -Almost universally they seem contented with their position and -prospects. I have seldom met with a settler who did not think his own -land the finest in the country, who had not grown the _largest turnip -ever seen_, and who was not full of hope that the coveted railway 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 wilderness, 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 went 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 promised to go for her as soon as -dear F----e should be taken ill. - -We had been made a little more comfortable 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 immense 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 variety we could give them, with the -exception of an occasional egg. In this emergency your brother C----s -consented to sell me a bull calf, which he intended bringing up, but -having also a cow and a heifer, and fearing to run short of fodder, he -consented to part with him. Thus I became 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 speculation. - -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. We 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 miles off, in such a night, was impossible, for even with -a lantern your brother-in-law could not have ventured into the Bush. -Fortunately, 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 done honour to “Dr. _Elizabeth Black_!” - -I did indeed feel thankful when I saw my child safe in bed, with her -dear baby-girl, washed, dressed, and well bundled up in flannel, lying -by her side, she herself taking a basin of gruel which I joyfully -prepared 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 extraneous 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 determined 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 in 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 papers. 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 -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 snug, could enjoy looking at the very -picturesque 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 -slovenliness 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 comfortable by its kind -mistress. The next morning at ten a.m. we went to the magistrate’s -office, where I signed for my one hundred acres, and of course came -away with the conscious dignity of a landed proprietor. - -I was charmed with the kind and courteous 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 first 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, 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 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 exhausted, 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. - - - - -LETTER V. - - -The 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. - -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 corner 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. 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 we 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. - -We all stood round in our anomalous costumes, and a cracked slop-basin -represented the font. Nevertheless, our little darling behaved -incomparably well, and all passed off pleasantly. With our minister -afterwards, a very 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 accomplishment, or indeed for anything but the stern and hard -realities of daily labour; conversation even among the well-educated is -apt to degenerate into discussions about “crops” and “stock,” and the -relative merits of _timothy_ or _beaver hay_. - -We saw but little of your brother Edward at this time, for he was fully -occupied in the log-house, where he lit a large fire every day that -it might be thoroughly aired for our reception, and then engaged in -carpentering extensively for our comfort. He put up numerous shelves -for the crockery and kitchen things, made two very good and substantial -bedsteads, a sofa fixed against the wall which we call the “daïs,” and -a very 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 comfortable 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 untrodden snow on either side of the track 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 considerably, and as I was not allowed to carry anything, and -picked my way very carefully, I managed to escape with comparatively -few falls, and only two of any consequence, one when I pitched forward -with my face down 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 with help, I could get up. The effects of this -fall I felt for a long time. - -At length we arrived at our new home, but in spite of the magic of that -word, I 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 hid the -clearing from our eyes, I need not say that we were anything but a gay -party. Your kind brother-in-law, to console me a little, went home and -brought back in his arms, as a present for me, the little cat of which -I had been so fond at his house. I cheered up immediately, and had so -much trouble to prevent little Tibbs from running away and being lost -in the snow, that it was quite an occupation for me. One member of our -party made himself at home at once, and from the moment of our entrance -took possession of the warmest place before the stove. This was dear -old Nero, who, as a “French seigneur,” had great privileges, was much -admired in the settlement, and was always called the “Frenchman!” His -chief delight 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 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 clearing was such a partial one that -by the 15th 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. -He had, however, an excellent yield of eighty bushels, which fully -repaid him for his perseverance 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 crop. - -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, smoking, 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! They -were black from head to foot, and more resembled master chimney-sweeps -than anything else. Most of the settlers have a regular logging-suit -made of coarse coloured stuff; anything better is sure to be spoiled -during such work. - -Our fire, though a bad one, was very picturesque. It did not burn -fiercely enough to clear off the log-heaps still wet from the late -rains, but it ran far back into the forest, and many of the tall trees, -particularly the decaying ones, were burning from bottom to top, and -continued in flames for some days and nights. During the logging I -sincerely pitied the poor oxen, who are yoked together and attached -by a heavy chain to one immense log after another, till they are all -brought into position, and the log-heaps are arranged for burning. It -is most distressing to see these patient animals panting after their -exertions, and too often, I regret to say, beaten and sworn at in a -most outrageous manner. - -Great care is required to prevent accidents during logging, and fatal -ones sometimes occur. I was in conversation with the reeve of an -adjoining township this summer, and he told me that two years ago he -lost his eldest son, a young man of great promise, in this melancholy -way. The poor fellow made a false step while driving his team, and fell -right before the oxen who were coming on with a heavy log, quite a -tree, attached to them. Before it was possible to stop them, they had -drawn the tree over him and he was literally crushed to death. - -Not having been able to get the land ready for corn of any kind, -and our only crops being the potatoes I have mentioned, and a few -garden vegetables, your brother thought it best to give his whole -attention to fencing our clearing all round, and putting gates at -the three different points of egress. This was the more necessary as -your brother Charles had a cow and heifer with a large circle of -acquaintances among our neighbour’s cattle, who came regularly every -morning to fetch them away into the Bush, where they all fed till -night. Your brother made three gates on the model of French ones, which -are both solid and simple in their construction, easy to open and easy -to shut. - -Wonderful to say, some of the old settlers condescended to admire these -novelties. Your brother Charles worked with him till this necessary -labour was concluded, and we were glad enough when our four and a half -acres were securely protected from the daily inroads of stray cattle. -Before the fence was up, your sister and I spent half our time in -running out with the broom to drive away the neighbour’s cattle, and -protect our cherished cabbage plants, and the potatoes just coming up. -Two audacious steers in particular, called Jim and Charlie, used to -come many times during the day, trot round the house, drink up every -drop of soapy water in the washing-tubs, and if any linen was hanging -on the lines to dry, would munch it till driven away. - -Two oxen and two or three cows used to come early every morning, and -cross our clearing to fetch their friends from your brother Charles’. -We used to hear the ox-bells, and after they had passed some time would -see them returning in triumph with Crummie and the heifer, and after -your brother-in-law got a cow, they would go for Dolly likewise, and -then the whole party would go off and feed together in the Bush till -night. - -Fortunately, all the cattle in this part wear bells to prevent their -being lost. One day your sister and I went to bring F----e and the -children back to tea, when suddenly her own cow, Mistress Dolly, with -a neighbour’s oxen called Blindy and Baldface, came rushing down -the path we were in, and we had just time, warned by the bells, to -scramble out of the way with the children and get behind some trees, -while F----e, always courageous and active, drove them in an opposite -direction. - -The being able to turn the cattle (a settler’s riches) into the Bush -during the whole summer, and thus to feed them free of all expense, -is a great boon to the settler; but this Bush-feeding has its -disadvantages, for the cattle will sometimes stray with what companions -they gather on the road, miles and miles away, to the great discomfort -of their masters who have to hunt for them. - -All through the past summer, after his hard day’s work, we used to see -your youngest brother pass with a rope in one hand and his milk-pail -in the other, from our clearing into the Bush, to look for Crummie -and the heifer. Sometimes he would return with them, but much oftener -we had to go without the milk he supplied us with, as Crummie would be -heard of far away at some distant farm, and occasionally she and her -companion strayed as far as the Muskoka Road, many miles off, which -of course necessitated great loss of time and much fatigue the next -day in hunting her up. Both your brothers and your brother-in-law are -excellent at making their way through the Bush, and as each carries a -pocket-compass, are in little danger of being lost. - -Just before we came here the whole settlement had to turn out in -search of a settler’s wife, who had gone to look for her cow one fine -afternoon with two of her own children and two of a neighbour’s, who -coveted the pleasant scrambling walk, and the chance of berry-picking. -As evening came on and they did not return, much alarm was felt; and -when the night had passed, it was thought best to call out all the -men in the immediate neighbourhood. Accordingly twenty men were soon -mustered, headed by a skilful trapper, who has been many years here, -and knows the Bush well. They made a “trapper’s line,” which means -placing the men in a straight line at considerable distances from each -other, and so beating the Bush in all directions as they advance, -shouting and firing off their guns continually. At length, towards the -afternoon, the trapper himself came upon the poor woman and the four -children, not many miles from her home, sitting under a tree, utterly -exhausted by hunger, fatigue, and incessant screaming for help. Her -account was, that she had found her cow at some distance from home, -had milked her, and then tried to return, but entirely forgot the way -she came, and after trying one opening after another became utterly -bewildered. - -The forest in summer is so unvarying that nothing is easier than to go -astray. As night came on, she divided the can of milk among the poor, -hungry, crying children, and at length, tired out, they all slept -under a large tree, the night providentially being fine and warm. In -the morning they renewed their fruitless efforts, getting farther and -farther astray, till at length they had sunk down incapable of longer -exertion, and unable to stir from the spot where they were found. - -I conclude this letter with remarking, that instead of the spring which -I fondly anticipated, we burst at once from dull gloomy weather and -melting snow, to burning hot summer and clouds of mosquitoes and flies -of all kinds. - - - - -LETTER VI. - - -Summer and mosquitoes! Inseparable words in Canada, except in the large -towns, where their attacks are hardly felt. - -In the Bush, the larger the clearing the fewer the mosquitoes. It is, -above all things, desirable to avoid building a log-house near swampy -ground, for there they will be found in abundance. - -We have four acres and a half quite clear, but unfortunately our -log-house, instead of being placed in the middle, is at one end, with -a well-wooded hill and a portion of dense forest at the back and at -one end; delicious retreat for our enemies, from whence they issued in -myriads, tormenting us from morning till night, and all night long. - -This Egyptian plague began in the end of May, and lasted till the end -of September. We being new-comers they were virulent in their attacks, -and we were bitten from head to foot; in a short time we felt more -like lepers than healthy, clean people, and the want of sleep at night -was most trying to us all, after our hard work. Our only resource was -keeping large “smudges” continually burning in pans. These “smudges” -are made of decayed wood, called “punk,” and smoulder and smoke without -flaming. - -When I went to bed at night (my only time for reading) I used to turn -a long trunk end upwards close to my bolster, and place a large pan of -“punk” on it, so that myself and my book were well enveloped in smoke. -Many times in the night we had to renew our pans, and from the first -dawn of day the buzzing of these hateful insects, who seem then to -acquire fresh liveliness, prevented all chance of sleep. Nor were the -mosquitoes our only foes. Flies of all kinds swarmed around us, and one -in particular, the deer-fly, was a long black fly frightful to look at, -from its size and ugliness. Still, as the flies did not circle about in -the air as the mosquitoes did, we could better defend ourselves against -them. - -We derived little or no benefit from the numerous remedies recommended -by different settlers. In one only I found some alleviation--a weak -solution of carbolic acid, which certainly deadened the irritation, and -was at least a clean remedy compared with the “fly-oil” with which most -of the settlers besmear themselves unsparingly. - -Towards the end of June I entered upon an entirely new phase of -Bush-life, which was anything but pleasant to a person of a nervous, -susceptible temperament. This was my being in perfect solitude for many -hours of every day. Your sister-in-law expected her first confinement, -and we were so anxious that she should have proper medical advice, -that it was thought advisable to place her in lodgings at B----e till -the important event took place. Her brother coming to pay her a visit -entirely agreed in the necessity of the case, and as he kindly smoothed -away the money difficulty it was carried into execution. She could not -go alone, and therefore your eldest sister accompanied her, and thus I -lost for a time my constant and only companion. - -I undertook now to keep house for both your brothers, as in his wife’s -absence Charles could have little comfort at home. I only saw them at -meal-times, and though your eldest brother came home always before -dusk, yet I could not but be very nervous at being so much alone. - -The weather became so hot, that the stove was moved into the open air -at the back of the house, and to save me fatigue your brother cut a -doorway at the back, close to where the stove was placed. Unfortunately -there was a great press of work at this time, and moreover no lumber on -the premises, and therefore no door could be made, and the aperture, -which I had nothing large enough to block up, remained all the summer, -to my great discomfiture. - -At first I was not so very solitary, for a settler’s daughter, who had -worked for your sister-in-law, came to me three times a week, and went -on the alternate days to your sister F----e. We liked her very well, -were very kind to her, and under our training she was learning to be -quite a good servant, when an incident occurred which occasioned our -dismissing her, which gave me great pain, and which has never been -cleared up to my satisfaction. - -Our poor dog Nero, who was an excellent guard, and quite a companion, -was taken ill, and we fancied that he had been bitten by a snake in -Charles’ beaver meadow, where he had been with your brothers who were -hay-making. We nursed him most tenderly, you may be sure, but he got -worse and worse suffered agonies, and in less than a week I was obliged -to consent to our old favourite dog being shot. He was taken from my -bed well wrapped up, so that he knew nothing of what was coming, while -I walked far away into the wood, and your brother with one shot put the -faithful animal out of his pain. Two days before he died a large piece -of poisoned meat was found near the pathway of our clearing, and as -from before the time of his being ill no one but this servant girl had -gone backwards and forwards, as her father had a kind of grudge against -your brother for driving his cattle off the premises, and as she never -expressed the slightest sympathy for the poor beast, but seemed quite -pleased when he was dead, we could not but fear that she had been made -the medium of killing him. We found that he had been poisoned with blue -vitriol, but we knew this too late to save him. - -We buried him honourably, and I planted a circle of wild violets round -his grave, and was not ashamed to shed many tears besides, which was a -well-deserved tribute to our old and faithful _friend_. - -After the girl was dismissed I found more than enough of occupation, -for though your brother made and baked the bread, which I was not -strong enough to do, yet I cooked, washed for them, and did the -house-work, which I found sufficiently fatiguing, and was very glad -after dinner to sit down to my writing-table, which I took good care to -place so as to face the open door, never feeling safe to have it at my -back. - -Your dear sister F. was so kind, that at great inconvenience to -herself, on account of the heat and the flies in the forest, she -managed to come nearly every day at four p.m. with the children, and -remained till your brother came back for the night. - -He was occupied for many weeks in making hay with your brother and -brother-in-law in the beaver meadow, a large one and very productive. -They make a great deal of hay, and put it up in large cocks, but a -great deal of it was lost by rotting on the ground, from not being -carried away in proper time. The delay was occasioned by none of us -having oxen of our own, and from not having the means of hiring till -the season was passed. - -The not getting money at the proper epochs for work is the greatest -drawback to the new settler. If it comes too soon it is apt to melt -away in the necessities of daily life; if it comes too late he must -wait for another year. - -I fully realised during this summer, that solitude in the Bush is not -privacy. Though in case of any accident I was out of reach of all human -help, yet I was liable at any moment of the day to have some passing -settler walk coolly in, and sit down in my very chair if I had vacated -it for a moment. I got one fright which I shall not easily forget. I -had given your two brothers their breakfast, and they had started for -their hay-making in the distant beaver meadow. I had washed up the -breakfast-things, cleared everything away, and was arranging my hair in -the glass hanging in the bed-place, the curtain of which was undrawn on -account of the heat. My parting look in the glass disclosed a not very -prepossessing face in the doorway behind, belonging to a man who stood -there immovable as a statue, and evidently enjoying my discomfiture. - -I greeted him with a scream, which was almost a yell, and advanced pale -as a ghost, having the agreeable sensation of all the blood in my body -running down to my toes! His salutation was: - -“Wall, I guess I’ve skeered you some!” - -“Yes!” I replied, “you startled me very much.” - -He then came in and sat down. I sat down too, and we fell into quite an -easy flow of talk about the weather, the crops, etc. - -How devoutly I wished him anywhere else, and how ill I felt after my -fright, I need not say, but I flatter myself that nothing of this -appeared on the surface; all was courtesy and politeness. - -At length he went way, and finding your brother in the beaver meadow, -took care to inform him that he “had had quite a pleasant chat with -his old woman!” - -I knew this man by sight, for once in the early part of the summer he -came to inquire where Charles lived? On my pointing out the path, and -saying in my politest manner, - -“You will have no difficulty, sir, in finding Mr. C. K.’s clearing,” he -coolly replied: - -“I guess I shall find it; I knows your son well; _we always calls him -Charlie_!” - -I had visitors during the summer, who were much more welcome. Two nice -intelligent little boys with bare feet and shining faces, the children -of an American from the “States,” settled in the Muskoka Road, used -to come twice a week with milk, eggs, and baskets of the delicious -wild raspberry at five cents a quart. While they were resting and -refreshing themselves with cold tea and bread-and-butter we used to -have quite pleasant conversations. They were very confidential, told -me how anxiously they were expecting a grandmother, of whom they were -very fond, and who was coming to live with them; of their progress and -prizes in the Sunday-school some miles from here, which they regularly -attended; of their garden and of many other little family matters; and -when I gave them some story-books for children, and little tracts, they -informed me that they would be kept for Sunday reading. They never -failed, with the things they brought for sale, to bring me as a present -a bunch of beautiful sweet-peas and mignonette, and occasionally a -scarlet gladiolus. - -When they were gone I used to sit down to my letter-writing; and after -all my grubbing and house-work, I felt quite elevated in the social -scale to have a beautiful bouquet on my writing-table, which I took -care to arrange with a background of delicate fern leaves and dark, -slender sprigs of the ground-hemlock. The very smell of the flowers -reminded me of my beloved transatlantic home, with its wealth of -beautiful plants and flowering shrubs, and every room decorated with -vases of lovely flowers which I passed some delicious morning hours in -collecting and arranging. - -When the fruit season had passed, I lost my little visitors, but -was painfully reminded of them at the beginning of the winter. Your -brother-in-law was called upon, in the absence of the clergyman, to -read the burial service over an old lady who had died suddenly in the -settlement. This was the grandmother of my poor little friends. She had -always expressed a wish to spend her last days with her daughter in -Muskoka, but put off her journey from the “States” till the weather was -so severe that she suffered much while travelling, and arrived with a -very bad cold. The second morning after her arrival she was found dead -in her bed. - -I remained all the summer strictly a prisoner at home. The not being -able to shut up the log-house for want of the second door of course -prevented my leaving home, even for an hour; for the Bush is not -Arcadia, and however primitive the manners and customs may be, I have -failed to recognise primitive innocence among its inhabitants. - -As to the berry-picking, which is the favourite summer amusement here, -I would sooner have gone without fruit than have ventured into the -swamps and beaver meadows, where the raspberries, huckleberries, and -cranberries abound. My fear of snakes was too overpowering. Charles -killed this summer no less than seven; and though we are told that in -this part of Canada they are perfectly innocuous, yet your brother -pointed out that three out of the seven he killed had the flat -conformation of head which betokens a venomous species. - -In the meantime our news from B----e was not too good. After a -residence in the lodgings of five weeks, your sister-in-law had been -confined of a dear little boy, and at first all had gone well, but -after a week she became very ill, and also the baby; and as he had to -be brought up by hand, and there was great difficulty in getting pure, -unmixed milk in B----e, it was thought better, when he was five weeks -old, to bring the whole party back. That memorable journey must be -reserved for another letter. - -I noticed this summer many times the curious appearance of our clearing -by moonlight. In the day the stumps stood out in all their naked -deformity, as we had no “crops of golden grain” to hide them; but at -night I never beheld anything more weird and ghostly. The trees being -mostly chopped in the winter, with deep snow on the ground, the stumps -are left quite tall, varying from five to seven feet in height. When -these are blackened by the burning, which runs all over the clearing, -they present in the dim light the appearance of so many spectres. I -could almost fancy myself in the cemetery in the Dunkirk Road, near -Calais, and that the blackened stumps were hideous black crosses which -the French are so fond of erecting in their churchyards. - -They have in America a machine called a “stump-extractor;” but this is -very expensive. By the decay of nature, it is possible, in two or three -years, to drag out the stumps of trees with oxen; but the pine stumps -never decay under seven or eight years, and during all that time are a -perpetual blot on the beauty of the landscape. - -I was much interested in a sight, novel to me, namely, the fire-flies -flitting about in the tops of the tall trees. They seemed like so many -glittering stars, moving so fast that the sight became quite dazzled. -In the cold weather, too, the aurora borealis is most beautiful; and -it is well worth being a little chilly to stand out and watch the soft -tints melting one into the other, and slowly vanishing away. But for -these occasional glimpses of beauty and sublimity, I should indeed have -found existence in the Bush intolerably prosaic. - -I very much missed the flocks of birds I was accustomed to in Europe; -but as I always forbade any gun being fired off in my clearing, I -soon made acquaintance with some. It was a treat to me to watch two -audacious woodpeckers, who would come and nibble at my stumps, and let -me stand within a few feet of them without the least fear. There was -also a pretty snow-bird, which knew me so well that it would wait till -I threw out crumbs and bits of potato for it; and once, when we had -some meat hanging in a bag on the side of the house, which your brother -tied up tightly to prevent depredation, this sagacious creature perched -on the shed near, and actually looked me into untying the bag, and -pulling partly out a piece of the pork, upon which it set to work with -such goodwill, that in a few days some ounces of fat had disappeared. - - - - -LETTER VII. - - -All journeys to and from the Bush are prosecuted under such -difficulties, that it is very fortunate they are few and far between. -Indeed, few of the better class of settlers would remain, but for the -near prospect of Government granting roads in the township, and the -more distant one of the different companies for buying the pine-wood -bridging over the deep gullies on the lots to facilitate their taking -away the timber. When one of the expectant members for Muskoka paid us, -in the course of the summer, an election visit, this was the point on -which we mainly insisted. Our courteous visitor promised everything; -but as his subsequent election was declared null and void, we have as -yet reaped no benefit from his promises. - -Towards the end of August, I was compelled to pay my half-yearly visit -to B----e, for the purpose of getting my pension-lists signed and -duly forwarded. Your brother likewise had to take in two settlers in -the vicinity, to swear off some land before taking it up. At first we -thought of making our way to the post-office, three miles off, and -from thence taking places in the mail-cart; but as we had to take -in our settlers, and to pay all their expenses to and from B----e, -your brother thought it best to send to the town for a wagon and team -expressly for ourselves. This arrived; but, alas! in the afternoon -instead of the morning, which had been specially mentioned. - -On this day we fully proved the glorious uncertainty of the Canadian -climate. The morning had been lovely, but towards three p.m. a soft, -drizzling rain began to fall, which increased in volume and power till -it became a drenching torrent. - -Your brother-in-law took charge of me, and assisted me in scrambling -over the different gullies; but by the time I considered it safe to get -into the wagon, I was already wet through. The horses were so tired, -having come from a distant journey, that we travelled very slowly, and -it was dark when we drew up at the half-way house, where we were to -have tea and to rest the poor animals. Here we remained for two hours; -and when we again started it was pitch dark, with torrents of rain -still falling, and the addition of occasional peals of thunder and -flashes of lightning. - -I have heard and read much of the tropical rains of India and other -southern countries, but it would be impossible to imagine a more -persistent drenching than we got on this unlucky afternoon. The whole -eight miles from the half-way house the horses could only walk very -slowly, the night being unusually dark. We greatly need in this country -such a law as they have in France, where it is enacted, under a heavy -penalty, that no carriage, cart, or wagon shall travel after dark -without carrying a good and sufficient light to prevent dangerous -collisions. I should have been very nervous but for my implicit faith -in the sagacity of the horses, and the great care of the driver, whom -we only knew under his sobriquet of “Canadian Joe.” He was a quiet, -careful man, a French Canadian, who beguiled the way by singing very -sweetly, and with whom it was pleasant to converse in the language we -loved so well. He took us safely into B----e, with the addition to our -party of two travellers we overtook on the road, and upon whom we had -compassion. - -When we got in, the hotel was about closing for the night; the fires -were out, and the landlady had gone to bed ill; but the master -bestirred himself, showed me to a comfortable bedroom, and made me some -negus, which your brother, himself wet to the skin, soon brought me, -and which at least warmed me a little after so many hours of exposure -to cold and wet. - -The next morning, as soon as we could get into thoroughly-dried -clothes, we went to see our invalids. Your poor sister-in-law was still -suffering much, but her dear baby (a very minute specimen of humanity) -was improving, and, after more than two months’ absence, I was thankful -to see your sister only looking very pale, and not, as I expected, -utterly worn out by her arduous duties and compulsory vigils and -anxieties. Your brother was obliged to return to the Bush on Saturday; -but I remained to come home with your sister and sister-in-law the next -week. - -In the meantime, having been to the magistrate’s office and transacted -all our business, I greatly enjoyed with your brother walking about -the neighbourhood. It was, indeed, a treat to walk on a good road, and -to see signs of life and progress everywhere, instead of the silent -monotony of the forest. - -We noticed an amazing change for the better in this “rising village -of the Far West,” which we had not seen for six months. The hotels -and stores seemed to have quadrupled themselves, good frame-houses -were springing up in every direction, and a very pretty little church, -since opened for Church of England service, was nearly finished. These -lumber-houses are very ugly at first, on account of the yellow hue of -the wood; but this is soon toned down by exposure to the weather, and -climbing-plants and pretty gardens soon alter their appearance, and -make them picturesque. - -The dull, primitive life of the Bush certainly prepares one to be -pleased with trifles. I revelled like a child in the unwonted stir and -hum of life about me, and felt half ashamed of the intense amusement I -derived from the lordly airs of an old gander, who marshalled his flock -of geese up and down the road all day long. I felt quite angry with a -young man at the breakfast-table of the hotel, who complained loudly -that this old gentleman’s cackling and hissing had kept him awake all -night. I too, in the intervals of sleep, had heard the same sound, but -to me it was sweet music. - -On Sunday morning I had a treat for which I was quite unprepared. The -Rev. Morley Punshon, head of the Wesleyan Methodist Church in Canada, -came to B----e, to lecture on the “Life and Writings of Lord Macaulay.” -On Sunday morning he preached in the open air, to accommodate the many -who could not have found room in the Wesleyan Chapel. A little secluded -dell, some distance from the main road, was thoroughly cleared of wood -and underbrush, and rough benches were placed in profusion for seats. I -was astonished at the numbers assembled--six hundred I was afterwards -told. After the benches were full, the hill-sides were densely -packed; and it was impossible not to go back in thought to the Scotch -Covenanters and the heathery hills, so often sprinkled with their -blood. All here was calm and peaceful; it was a lovely Sabbath morning, -the air indescribably balmy and fragrant, the service very simple and -impressive, the singing singularly sweet, and the discourse delivered -by the gifted minister full of fervid eloquence. - -He preached from Psalm xlii. 4. My feelings nearly overcame me; it was -the very first time since I left England that I had had the opportunity -of publicly joining in worship with my fellow-Christians; and it -appeared to me a matter of very small importance that most of those -present were Wesleyans, while I was Church of England. The lecture on -“Macaulay” was duly delivered the next day, and was much liked; but I -did not go, preferring to pass the time with our poor invalid. - -On Tuesday, September 2nd, your brother Charles came in and made -arrangements to take his wife, child, and your sister, back on the -following day. I made up my mind to go back with them, and again we -took care to secure Canadian Joe and his team. It was a perilous -journey for one in so much physical suffering, but it was admirably -managed. We laid a soft mattress in the bottom of the wagon, with -plenty of pillows, and on this we placed your sister-in-law with the -baby by her side. Charles sat with them to keep all steady; your sister -and I sat with the driver. Canadian Joe surpassed himself in the care -he took of the invalid; every bad piece of road he came to he walked -his horses quite softly, looking back at Charles with a warning shake -of the head, as much as to say, “Take care of her now!” - -We travelled slowly, but by his great care arrived safely, and at -the cleared farm nearest to mine we were met by your brother and -brother-in-law, who had skilfully arranged a ship’s hammock on a pole, -and made of it a very tolerable palanquin. Into this your sister-in-law -was carefully lifted, and two of the gentlemen carried her, the third -relieving them at intervals. They got her safely over all the gullies, -and carried her past my log-house to her own home, where she was at -once put to bed, and in a very few days began to recover. Your sister -and I took charge of the dear little baby, and after a most fatiguing -walk and much dangerous scrambling with such a precious load, we got -him safely here, where he has remained our cherished nursling ever -since, and has thriven well. His dear young mother, having quite -recovered, comes every day to be with her little treasure. - -We only just arrived in time; the rain began again and continued for -some days. We had much trouble with the rain drifting in through the -clap-boards of the roof. What would _Mr. Punch_ have said could he have -seen two ladies in bed with a baby between them, and a large umbrella -fixed at the head of the bed to save them from the roof-drippings! - -We had two visits this autumn from which we derived much pleasure. One -from our old friend C. W., and one from a friend and connection of -your sister-in-law’s family, her eldest brother having married one of -his sisters. H. L. was quite an addition to our working party. More -than six feet high, strong and active, he fraternised at once with -your brothers, and cheerfully helped them in their daily labours. Your -brother hired a team of oxen for some days, and had the remaining -trees lying in our clearing logged up, and watched for the first -fine dry day to complete the burning begun in spring. Our two young -friends assisted him in his labours, and they managed so well that the -regular day’s work was not interfered with. Every evening they set -fire to some of the log-heaps, and diligently “branded” them up till -they were reduced to ashes. As we could not admit our friends into -the house after a certain hour in the evening, and as their vigils -extended far into the night, your brother used to provide the party -with plenty of potatoes, which they roasted in the ashes and ate with -butter and salt, with a large pot of coffee and an unlimited supply -of tobacco--they being all inveterate smokers. As they had all fine -voices and sang well together, the gipsy party was not a dull one, -and the forest echoed with their favourite songs. Fortunately there -was no one in our solitary neighbourhood to be disturbed from their -slumbers, and provided they did not wake the baby, we rather enjoyed -the unwonted noise, knowing how much they were enjoying themselves. -Perhaps the most amusing time of all was the Saturday afternoon, -when what we ladies called the “Jew trading” invariably took place. -I really think that every article belonging to our young men changed -hands at these times, and the amusing manner in which the stores of -each were laid out for public admiration and regularly haggled for, -cannot be forgotten. In this manner your eldest brother’s celebrated -chassepot gun, picked up on the field of Sedan, gave place to a Colt’s -revolver and a small fowling-piece; his heavy gold seal (a much-coveted -article) took the more useful form of corduroy trousers and heavy -boots; in like manner both your brothers gladly bartered their fine -dress shirts, and handkerchiefs, and satin ties, for coarser garments -better fitted for the Bush, of which both C. W. and H. L. had a good -stock now quite useless to them, as neither could make up his mind to -a Bush life. These amusing transfers of property came to a close at -last, after some weeks of incessant trafficking, with your brother’s -solemnly asking my permission to hand over to H. L., as a make-weight -in the scale, a large woollen comforter which I had knitted for him. -Some of the bartering went on at “Pioneer Cottage,” your brother -Charles’ place, a name most appropriately given, as he was the first -of our party in the settlement. I called my log-house “Cedar Lodge” at -first, and headed some of my letters to England with that elegant name, -understanding that I was the happy owner of a number of cedar trees, -but finding that my riches in cedar consisted in a small portion only -of a dirty cedar-swamp, from which not one tree fit for building could -be extracted, I dropped the grandiloquent nomenclature, and simply put -for heading to my letters, “The Bush--Muskoka.” - -We felt quite dull when our friends left, but they correspond with both -your brothers, and H. L. is not far from us, having married and settled -at Toronto. - -A very grave subject of consideration has arisen among us on the -subject of domestic servants. Should any providential improvement -in our circumstances take place, or our farms become even moderately -thriving, we should certainly once more require these social -incumbrances, but where to find them would be a question. Certainly -not in the settlement to which we belong. Not one of the ladies in our -three families has a special vocation for cooking and house-tidying, -though all have done it since we came here without complaint, and have -done it well. Indeed, a most respectable settler, who, with other men -and a team of oxen, was working for some days on our land to help -your brother, remarked to his wife that he was quite astonished that -a young lady (meaning your eldest sister), evidently unaccustomed to -hard work, could do so much and could do it so well. He had noticed how -comfortably all the different meals had been prepared and arranged. -Your sister F----e too, in spite of the hindrance of three little -children, has always given great satisfaction to the workmen employed -by her husband. We should of course hail the day when we could have the -help in all household matters we formerly enjoyed; but we must surely -seek for it at a distance from here. - -The children of the settlers, both boys and girls, know well that on -attaining the age of eighteen years, they can each claim and take up -from Government a free grant of one hundred acres. They naturally -feel their incipient independence and their individual interest in -the country, and this makes them less inclined to submit to the few -restrictions of servitude still sanctioned by common sense and general -observance. They serve their temporary masters and mistresses under -protest as it were, and are most unwilling to acknowledge their title -to these obnoxious names. They consider it their undoubted right to be -on a footing of perfect equality with every member of the family, and -have no inclination whatever to “sit below the salt.” - -When your sister-in-law returned from Bracebridge, her health was for -some time too delicate for her to do any hard work, and we, having -charge of the baby, could give her no assistance. Your brother Charles -looked about the settlement for a respectable girl as a servant. He -found one in every way suitable, about sixteen, and apparently healthy, -strong, willing, and tolerably competent. He liked her appearance, -and engaged her at the wages she asked. She entered upon her place, -did her work well, and gave entire satisfaction. Everything was done -to make her comfortable, even to the extent of giving her the whole -Sunday to herself, as she was in the habit of attending the church -some miles off and also the Sunday-school. In little more than a week -she suddenly left, assigning no reason but that she was “wanted at -home,” which we knew to be a falsehood, as she had two or three sisters -capable of assisting her mother. We were greatly puzzled to find out -her true reason for leaving. After a time it was made clear to us by -a trustworthy person who had it from the family themselves. The young -lady had found it _intolerably dull_, and it was further explained to -us that no settler would allow his daughter to be in service where she -was not allowed to sit at the same table with the family, and to join -freely in the conversation at all times! - - - - -LETTER VIII. - - -I begin this letter with a few observations in support of my -oft-repeated assertion that poor ladies and gentlemen form the worst, -or at least the most unsuccessful, class for emigration to Canada. I -must give you a slight sketch of the class of settlers we have here, -and of the conditions they must fulfil before they can hope to be in -easy circumstances, much less in affluent ones. Of course I am speaking -of settlers from the “old country,” and not of Canadians born who -sometimes find their way from the front to try their fortunes in the -backwoods. The settlers in this neighbourhood, for a circuit of about -eight miles, are all of the lower classes; weavers from Scotland, -agricultural labourers from England, artisans and mechanics from all -parts. Whatever small sum of money a family of this class can collect -with a view to emigration, very little of it is spent in coming over. -They are invariably steerage passengers, and on landing at Quebec are -forwarded, free of all expense, and well provided for on the road, -by the Emigration Society, to the part where they intend settling. -Say that they come to the free-grant lands of Muskoka. The intending -settler goes before the commissioner of crown-lands, and (if a single -man) takes up a lot of a hundred acres; if married and with children, -he can claim another lot as “head of a family.” He finds the conditions -of his tenure specified on the paper he signs, and sees that it will -be five years before he can have his patent, and then only if he has -cleared fifteen acres, and has likewise built thereon a log-house of -certain dimensions. He pays some one a dollar to point out his lot, -and to take him over it, and then selecting the best site, and with -what assistance he can get from his neighbours, he clears a small -patch of ground and builds a shanty. In the meantime, if he have a -wife and family they are lodged and boarded for a very small sum at -some near neighbour’s. When he and his family have taken possession, -he underbrushes and chops as much as he possibly can before the winter -sets in; but on the first approach of the cold weather he starts for -the lumber-shanties, and engages himself to work there, receiving from -twenty to twenty-five dollars a month and his food. Should he be of any -particular trade he goes to some large town, and is tolerably sure of -employment. - -It is certainly a very hard and anxious life for the wife and children, -left to shift for themselves throughout the long dreary winter, too -often on a very slender provision of flour and potatoes and little else. - -When spring at last comes, the steady, hard-working settler returns -with quite a little sum of money wherewith to commence his own farming -operations. One of the most respectable and thriving settlers near us -is a man who began life as a sturdy Kentish ploughboy. He is now an -elderly man with a very large family and a good farm. He has thirty -acres well cleared and under cultivation, has thirteen head of cattle -and some fine pigs, has the best barn in the place, and has just -removed his family into a large commodious plank house, with many rooms -and a very fine cellar, built entirely at odd times by himself and his -son, a steady, clever lad of eighteen. - -This man for several years has gone at the beginning of the winter to -one of the hotels in Bracebridge, where he acts as “stable-boy,” and -makes a great deal of money besides his food, which, in such a place, -is of the best. He could very well now remain at home, and reap the -reward of his thrift and industry, but prefers going on for a year or -two longer, while he still has health and strength. - -Now it is obvious that ladies and gentlemen have not, and cannot have -these advantages. The ladies of a family cannot be left unprotected -during the long winter, and indeed are, for the most part, physically -incapable of chopping fire-wood, drawing water, and doing other hard -outdoor work; I speak particularly of _poor_ ladies and gentlemen. -Should people of ample means _choose_ to encounter the inevitable -privations of the Bush, there are of course few which cannot be at -least alleviated by a judicious expenditure of money. - -It may well be asked here, who is there with _ample means_ who would -dream of coming to Muskoka? I answer boldly, none but those who are -entirely ignorant of the miseries of Bush life, or those who have been -purposely misled by designing and interested people. - -Here the settlers’ wives and daughters work almost as hard as their -husbands and fathers--log, burn, plant, and dig; and, in some -instances, with the work adopt the habits of men, and smoke and chew -tobacco to a considerable extent. This, I am happy to say, is not the -case with all, nor even, I hope, with the majority; but nearly all the -women, long before attaining middle age, look prematurely worn and -faded, and many of the settlers themselves bear in their faces the -unmistakable signs of hard work, scanty food, and a perpetual struggle -for existence. - -I have not yet mentioned the subject of wild beasts, but I may truly -say that ever since I came out here, they have been a complete bugbear -to me, and my dread of them is still unconquerable. I have been much -laughed at for my fears, but as it is well-known that there _are_ -wild animals in the recesses of these woods, and as they do sometimes -show themselves without being sought for, I cannot consider my fears -groundless. - -I have been told by one settler, who has been here for many years, -and has often “camped out” all night in the woods, that he has never -seen anything “worse than himself;” but another settler, the trapper -mentioned in a former letter, kills some wild animals every year, and -two or three times he has been met going over our lots in search of -some bear or lynx which had escaped him. - -We are told that when the clearings are larger, and more animals kept, -especially pigs, that our visits from Bruin at least will be more -frequent; and since your brother Charles, some months ago, got two fine -pigs, he has repeatedly found bear-tracks in his beaver meadow, and -even close up to the fence of his clearing. To say the least of it, the -pleasure of a solitary walk is greatly impaired by the vague terror -of a stray bear confronting you on the pathway, or of a spiteful lynx -dropping down upon your shoulders from the branch of a tree. - -The morning before H. L. left us for Toronto, he went to the -post-office, but before he got to the end of our clearing, he saw at -some distance a grey animal, which at first he took to be a neighbour’s -dog; long before he got up to it, it cleared the fence at one bound, -and vanished into the Bush. He thought this odd, but went on; returning -in the twilight he was greatly astonished to see the same animal again -in the clearing, and this time he might have had a good shot at it, -but unfortunately he was encumbered with a can of milk, which he had -good-naturedly brought for me, and before he could bring his gun to -bear upon it, the creature was again in the depths of the Bush. - -Much conversation ensued about it; some thought it must have been a -chance wolf, but Charles, whose opinion we all looked to, was more -inclined to the idea of its being a grey fox; he hardly thought that -any other wild animal would have come so fearlessly into the clearing. - -H. L. went to Toronto, and in a few days your brother received a letter -from him saying that he had just seen a lynx newly killed which had -been brought into the town, and that in colour, shape, and size, it -exactly resembled the animal he had seen in my clearing. It has since -been supposed that this might be the lynx the trapper said he was -tracking when he passed near here in the spring. - -I have often spoken of the broad deep gully at the end of my lot near -the “concession” road. We had an old negro located on the strip of land -between for more than five weeks. One fearfully cold day last winter, -during a heavy snow-storm, your brother Charles came upon the poor old -man “camping” for the night on the road near here. He talked to him a -little, gave him all the small change he happened to have about him, -and coming home and telling us, we made a small collection, which with -a loaf of bread, he took to the old man next morning before he went -away. - -Before the close of this autumn, Charles again met his old -acquaintance, looking more ragged and feeble than ever. He had with him -only his axe and a small bundle. He said that he was making his way -to a lot which he had taken up eight miles off, where he was going to -locate himself and remain. He spoke too of having friends in the front -who would give him some assistance, and at least send him some flour. - -Again he camped out for the night, and we held a family consultation -about him. Your brothers proposed going with him to his lot, and -helping him to build his shanty. They talked of taking provisions and -being out for some days. They also spoke of taking him food twice a -week during the winter for fear he should starve, as he complained that -his neighbours were very unkind to him, and did not want him located -among them. - -We all loudly protested against this plan as being altogether quixotic, -and reminded them that to carry out their plan they must periodically -neglect their own work, leave us alone, and run the risk of being often -weather-bound, thus causing injury to their own health, and much alarm -to us. We suggested an expedient, to let poor Jake settle himself near -my gully for the winter; your brothers to build him a shanty there, and -to take him every day sufficient warm food to make him comfortable. -Charles promised to join with us in giving him so much bread and -potatoes every week. I paid one visit to the old negro, whom I found -dirty, and with only one eye, yet not at all repulsive-looking, as he -had a very pleasant countenance, and talked well and intelligently. - -He agreed to our plan, and your brothers soon raised the logs of a good -shanty, and till it was completed he built himself a wigwam, Indian -fashion, which he made very warm and comfortable. We told him also that -if he liked to make a small clearing round his shanty, we would pay -him for his chopping when he left. The winter soon came, and the snow -began to fall. The first very frosty night made us anxious about our -old pensioner, and your brother went to him early the next morning with -a can of hot tea for his breakfast. What was his astonishment when he -crossed the gully to hear loud voices in Jake’s little encampment. - -On reaching it he asked the old man who was with him. He significantly -pointed to the wigwam, from which a woman’s voice called out: - -“Yes! I’m here, and I’ve got the hagur!” (ague). - -A few minutes afterwards the owner of the voice issued from the hut, -in the person of a stout, bold-looking, middle-aged woman, (white), -who evidently considered old Jake, his shanty, his wigwam, and all his -effects, as her own undoubted property. We found that this was the -“Mary” of whom Jake had spoken as being the person with whom he had -boarded and lodged in the front, and who had found him out here. In -the course of the day both your brothers paid the old man a visit, and -signified to him that it would be as well if he and his companion took -their departure, as we knew he was not married to her, and we had a -wholesome dread of five children, whom Jake had incidentally mentioned, -following in the wake of their mother. - -We gave them leave, however, to remain till the Monday following, as -we did not wish to drive any one out precipitately who was suffering -from the “hagur.” Till they went, we supplied them with provisions. -On the following Monday they departed. Your brothers gave poor Jake -two dollars for the little bit of chopping he had done, and we gave -him some bread, coffee, and potatoes, as provisions for his journey. -Your brothers saw him and Mary off with all their bundles, and returned -home, leaving my gully as silent and solitary as ever. - -We heard afterwards that Jake did not go to his own lot, as he seemed -to intend, but was seen with his companion making his way to the main -road out of the Bush. A settler overtook them, and told us they were -quarrelling violently for the possession of a warm quilted French -counterpane, which we had lent to old Jake to keep him warm in his -wigwam, and had allowed him to take away. - -We were disappointed this year in not having a visit from the old -colporteur of Parry’s Sound. He came last year during a heavy storm -of snow, with a large pack of cheap Bibles and Testaments, and told us -he was an agent for the Wesleyan Society, and had orders to distribute -gratis where there was really no means of paying. In answer to some -remark of mine, he said that “the Bible must always follow the axe.” - -I recognised more than ever, how, by the meanest and weakest -instruments, God works out His mighty designs. This poor man was -verging towards the decline of life; had a hollow cough, and was in -frame very feeble and fragile, yet he was full of zeal, travelled -incessantly, and dispensed numbers of copies of the Word of God as he -passed from settlement to settlement. I bought two New Testaments for -eight cents each, well printed, and strongly bound. - -I am at work occasionally at my pleasant task of recording Bush -reminiscences. My labours have at least kept me from vain and -fruitless regrets and repinings. - -“_Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch’entrate!_” How often have I repeated -these dismal words to myself since I came into the Bush, and felt them -to be the knell of hope and happiness! But time flies whether in joy or -sorrow. We are now in the middle of our second winter, those dreadful -winters of close imprisonment, which last for nearly seven months, and -which your sister and I both agree, form the severest trial of Bush -life. My aspirations, in former years, were manifold; but were I asked -now what were the three absolute essentials for human happiness, I -should be tempted to reply, “Roads to walk upon, a church to worship -in, and a doctor within reach in case of necessity!” All these are -wanting in the Bush; but as we have incessant daily occupation, an -extensive correspondence, and as providentially we brought out all -our stock of cherished books, we manage to live on without too much -complaining. - -Your brother Charles is doing pretty well, and hopes to bring his few -animals safely through the winter. Your brother-in-law also is making -progress, and is expecting from England a partner (a young relation of -his own) whose coming will probably insure him success. We remain just -as we were, striving, struggling, and hoping against hope, that success -may yet crown our endeavours. Our farm stock is easily counted, and -easily taken care of: your brother’s dog, with three very fat puppies; -my pretty cat “Tibbs,” with her little son “Hodge,” and a magnificent -tom puss, whose real home is at “Pioneer Cottage,” but who, being of -social habits and having a general invitation, does me the honour to -eat, drink, and sleep here. - -My sketches of Bush life are an occupation and an amusement to me, but -I can truly say that they very faintly portray our sufferings and our -privations. - - - - -LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. - -Part II. - -WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTERWARDS. - - - - -LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY. - -PART II. - - -In my former letters I spoke in a tone of mingled hope and fear as to -the result of our efforts to make Bush-farming succeed without capital, -and without even the means of living comfortably while trying the -experiment. - -It is needless to say to those who know anything of Muskoka, that the -misgivings were fully realised, and the hopes proved mere delusions, -and melted away imperceptibly as those airy fabrics too often do. We -were certainly much deceived by the accounts given of Muskoka; after -a four years’ residence I am inclined to think that from the very -first the capabilities of its soil for agricultural purposes have been -greatly exaggerated. - -It will require years of extensive clearing, and constant amelioration -of the land by means of manure and other applications, before it will -be capable of bearing heavy grain crops; it is a poor and hungry soil, -light and friable, mostly red sandstone loam and if a settler chances -to find on his lot a small patch of heavy clay loam fit for raising -wheat, the jubilant fuss that is made over it shows that it is not a -common character of the soil. - -The only crops at all reliable are oats and potatoes, and even these -are subject to be injured by the frequent summer droughts and by the -clouds of grasshoppers which occasionally sweep over Muskoka like an -Egyptian plague. - -For years to come the hard woods on a settler’s lot will be his most -valuable source of profit; and as the railroad advances nearer and -nearer, the demand for these woods for the lumber market will greatly -increase. - -But to return to our domestic history. The autumn of 1873 saw the first -breaking-up of our little colony in the final departure from the Bush -of my dear child, Mrs. C----, and her young family. My son-in-law, -Mr. C----, soon found his Bush-farming as wearisome and unprofitable -as we did ourselves. Having formerly taken his degree of B.A. at St. -John’s College, Cambridge, and his wishes having long tended to the -Church as a profession, nothing stood between him and ordination but a -little reading up in classics and theology, which he accomplished with -the assistance of his kind friend the Church of England clergyman at -Bracebridge. - -He was ordained by the Bishop of Toronto in October, 1873, and was at -once appointed to a distant parish. The final parting was most painful, -but it was so obviously for the good of the dear ones leaving us that -we tried to repress all selfish regrets, and I, in particular, heartily -thanked God that even a portion of the family had escaped from the -miseries of Bush-life. - -Our small community being so greatly lessened in number, the monotony -of our lives was perceptibly increased. None but those who have -experienced it can ever realise the utter weariness and isolation of -Bush-life. The daily recurrence of the same laborious tasks, the want -of time for mental culture, the absence of congenial intercourse with -one’s fellow-creatures, the many hours of unavoidable solitude, the -dreary unbroken silence of the immense forest which closes round the -small clearings like a belt of iron; all these things ere long press -down the most buoyant spirit, and superinduce a kind of dull despair, -from which I have suffered for months at a time. - -In conversation once with my daughter-in-law, who was often unavoidably -alone for the whole day, we mutually agreed that there were times when -the sense of loneliness became so dreadful, that had a bear jumped in -at the window, or the house taken fire, or a hurricane blown down the -farm buildings, we should have been tempted to rejoice and to hail the -excitement as a boon. - -And yet, strange as it may appear, I dreaded above all things visits -from our neighbours. It is true they seldom came, but when they did, -every one of them would have considered it a want of kindness not -to prolong their visit for many hours. Harassed as I was with never -ceasing anxiety, and much occupied with my correspondence and other -writing, I found such visits an intolerable nuisance, particularly -as after a little friendly talk about household matters, knitting, -etc., where we met as it were on common ground, there was invariably -a prolonged silence, which it required frantic efforts on my part to -break, so as to prevent my guests feeling awkward and uncomfortable. -On these occasions I was generally left with a nervous headache which -lasted me for days. - -One well-meaning, but especially noisy and vulgar individual was a -continual terror to me. She more than once said to my eldest son: - -“Your pore ma must be that lonesome and dull, that if it warn’t for the -children I would often go and cheer her up a bit.” - -My dear boy did his best to save his “pore ma” from such an -infliction, and was thankful that the children presented an obstacle -which fortunately for me was never got over. - -In my estimation of the merits and agreeable conversation of our -neighbours I made one great exception. Our nearest neighbour was an -intelligent, well-conducted Englishman, who lived a lonely bachelor -life, which in his rare intervals of rest from hard work he greatly -solaced by reading. We lent him all our best books and English -newspapers, and should have been glad to see him oftener, but he was -so afraid of intruding that he seldom came except to return or change -his books; at such times we had much really pleasant conversation, -and often a stirring discussion on some public topic of the day, or -it might be a particular reign in Cassell’s “English History,” or one -of Shakespeare’s plays, both of which voluminous works he was reading -through. - -He had been head clerk in a large shop in Yorkshire, and was slightly -democratic in his opinions, my tendencies being in the opposite -direction; we just differed sufficiently to prevent conversation being -dull. A more intelligent, hard-working, abstemious and trustworthy man -I have seldom known, and we got to consider him quite in the light of -a friend. For three winters, whether we had much or little, Mr. A----g -was our honoured guest on Christmas Day. - -One great solace of our lives was the number of letters we received -from the “old country,” but even these were at times the cause of -slight annoyance to my ever-sensitive feelings. All my dear friends and -relations, after warm condolences on the disappointments we at first -met with, would persist in assuring me that the _worst_ being over, we -were sure to gain ground, and meet with more success for the future. -From whence they gathered their consolatory hopes on our behalf it is -impossible for me to say, certainly not from my letters home, which, -in spite of all my efforts, invariably fell into a melancholy, not to -say a grumbling tone. _I_ knew too well that, however bad things might -be, the _worst_ was yet to come, and with a pardonable exaggeration of -feeling under peculiar circumstances, often said to myself: - - “And in the lowest deep, a lower deep, - Still threatening to devour me, opens wide.” - -The autumn and winter of 1873 passed away with no more remarkable event -than our first patch of fall wheat being sown, from which, in a burst -of temporary enthusiasm, we actually expected to have sufficient flour -for the wants of at least _one_ winter. 1874 having dawned upon us, we -by no means slackened in our efforts to improve the land and make it -profitable; but we found that although our expenses increased, our -means did not. The more land we cleared, the more the want of money -became apparent to crop and cultivate it, the labour of one individual -being quite insufficient for the purpose. - -To remedy this want, my son resolved to do what was a common practice -in the settlement--go out to work for his neighbours, receiving from -them return work, instead of any other payment. Our only difficulty -in this matter was the having to provide sufficient food, even of the -plainest kind, for hungry men engaged in logging; but even this we -managed during the first half of the year. 1874 seemed to be a year of -general want in our settlement; for when my son came home from his day -of outside toil, our usual question was, “Well, dear, what did you have -for dinner?” To which the reply mostly was, “Oh! bread-and-treacle and -tea,” or “porridge and potatoes,” etc. And this in the houses of the -better class of settlers, who were noted for putting the best they had -before any neighbours working for them. In fact, there was so little -of the circulating medium in the place, that all buying and selling -was conducted in the most primitive style of barter. A settler having -hay, corn, or cattle to sell, was obliged to take other commodities in -exchange; and more than once, when we wanted some indispensable work -done, my son, finding that we could in no way provide a money payment, -would look over his tools or farm implements, and sometimes even his -clothes, and part with whatever could possibly be spared. - -I have mentioned our fall wheat sown in the autumn of 1873. Alas for -all human expectations! The crop was pronounced to be a magnificent -one by experienced judges; but when it came to be threshed, every -grain was found to be wizened, shrivelled, and discoloured, and fit for -nothing but to feed poultry. The crop had been winter-killed; that is, -frozen and thawed so often before the 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 ever done; and had even long spells -of hunger and want, which I trust have prepared 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 years (himself a lawyer), -who sent us occasional assistance, we must have sunk under our wants -and miseries. I did my very best to keep the “wolf from the door” by -my literary efforts, and met with much kindness and consideration; -but after unceasing industry, long continued, got to know that a few -articles inserted at intervals in a fashionable American magazine, -however much they might be liked and approved of, would do but little -towards relieving the wants of a family. I became at last quite -discouraged; for so much material was rejected and returned upon my -hands, that I was fain to conclude that some frightful spell of dulness -had fallen upon my once lively pen. - -The work of this year appeared to us all to be harder than ever, and my -eldest son’s health and strength were evidently on the decline. It is -true that nearly every day he did the work of two men, as, in addition -to the cultivation of the land, he had to chop all the fire-wood for -daily use, to draw the water, and to do various jobs more or less -fatiguing to insure anything 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 stage as the lean apothecary in “Romeo and -Juliet.” - -It was with scarcely-suppressed anguish that, night after night, we -saw him so fatigued and worn-out as to be hardly able to perform his -customary ablutions and toilet before sitting down to the reading and -writing 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 -higher pursuits than Bush-farming. Both my sons at times worked for and -with each other, which was a most pleasant arrangement. - -At this time my youngest son was going through, on his own farm, the -same struggles as ourselves, and was, I am bound to say, in every -respect as hard-working and energetic as his elder brother. His family -was fast increasing, 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 -thankful to accept the situation of schoolmaster at Allunsville, which -added forty pounds 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 oxen with -them, we had half an hour of the delicious excitement of which my -daughter-in-law and myself had talked so calmly some time before. - -It was a bright sunny day, and my daughter and myself were busily -engaged in cooking a substantial dinner for our working party, when, -chancing to look up, my daughter exclaimed, “Mamma, is that sunlight -or fire shining through the roof?” I ran out directly, and saw that -the shingles below the chimney were well alight and beginning to blaze -up. Calling to my daughter in passing, I flew to the end of the house -and screamed out “Fire! fire!” in a voice which, my sons afterwards -laughingly assured me, must have been heard at the post-office, three -miles off. It had the immediate 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. - -My two sons, both as active as monkeys, were immediately on the roof; -one with an axe, to cut away the burning shingles; the other with -water, handed up by men, to keep the fire from spreading. 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 the summer of this year I went to Bracebridge, on a visit to my -daughter, 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 Bush to go into Bracebridge, 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 leaving for England. I -had made great exertions to get from my kind lawyer and a friend an -advance of sufficient money to take one of us back to the dear “old -country,” and all agreed that I should go first, being well aware that -my personal solicitations would soon secure the means of bringing back -my eldest son and daughter, who, being the only unmarried ones of the -family, were my constant companions. - -Having, unfortunately for my plans, but quite unavoidably, made use of -part of the money to leave things tolerably comfortable in the Bush, -I waited anxiously till the deficit could be made up, which I fully -hoped 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 publication -if approved of. What was my distress at receiving the manuscript back, -with this observation appended to it: “The work is too English, -local, and special, to be acceptable on this side of the Atlantic”! -Other articles intended for the magazine I sometimes wrote for were -also returned upon my hands about the same time. I draw a veil over my -feelings, and will only say that disappointment, anxiety, suspense, -and the burning heat of the weather gave me a very severe attack of -illness, which frightened my dear child Mrs. C. most dreadfully, and -left me so weak, feeble, and completely crushed, that I was thankful -to send for my 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 lochs, -eight miles off, where he had taken a job of work, and we therefore -felt pretty sure that he could not pay us his customary Christmas -visit. We felt almost thankful, much as we liked him; for we had been -literally without a cent for two months, and all our provision for -Christmas festivities consisted in plenty of potatoes and a small -modicum of flour. - -But we were not to escape the humiliation of having nothing to put -before our invited guest. Long after dark a well-known knock at the -door announced Mr. A----g, who came for the key of his house, of which -we always had the charge, and who had walked the whole way from the -lochs to keep his tryst with us, over roads deep in snow and quite -dangerous from snow-drifts at either side, which were so many pitfalls -for unwary travellers. He came in, and we made him directly some hot -tea--a welcome refreshment after his cold and fatiguing tramp of six -hours. - -When he was gone, we held a committee of ways and means; but as -nothing could be done to alter the state of affairs, and as there was -absolutely a ludicrous side to the question, we laughed heartily and -went to bed. - -Having edified the public with an account of our first Christmas dinner -in the Bush, I cannot resist the temptation of giving the details of -our last, which certainly did not show much improvement in our finances. - -On Christmas morning, 1874, we very early heard a joyous shout, and -saw dear Charles advancing triumphantly with two very small salt -herrings (the last of his stock) dangling in one hand, and a huge -vegetable-marrow in the other, these articles being the only addition -he could make to our Christmas dinner, which for the three previous -years he had been mainly instrumental in providing. - -What could we do but laugh and cheerfully accept the situation? -Charles promised to bring his dear wife and the two babies down on the -ox-sleigh as early as possible. We borrowed, without hesitation, some -butter from our friend Mr. A----g, who had a stock of it, and my eldest -son went himself to fetch him before dinner, fearing that delicacy -would prevent his coming, as he could too well guess the state of the -larder. - -Our guests assembled and dinner-time arrived, I placed on the table a -large and savoury dish of vegetable-marrow mashed, with potatoes well -buttered, peppered, salted and baked in the oven; the two herrings -carefully cooked and a steaming dish of potatoes, with plenty of -tea, made up a repast which we much enjoyed. When tea-time came, my -daughter, who had devoted herself for the good of the community, -supplied us with relays of “dampers,” which met with universal -approbation. - -In compliment to our guest, we had all put on what my boys jocosely -term our “Sunday go-to-meeting clothes!” I was really glad that the -grubs of so many weary weeks past on this day turned into butterflies. -Cinderella’s transformations were not more complete. My daughter -became the elegant young woman she has always been considered; my -sons, in once more getting into their gentlemanly clothes, threw -off the careworn look of working-day fatigue, and became once more -distinguished and good-looking young men; and as to my pretty -daughter-in-law, I have left her till the last to have the pleasure -of saying that I never saw her look more lovely. She wore a very -elegant silk dress, had delicate lace and bright ribbons floating about -her, a gold locket and chain and sundry pretty ornaments, relics of -her girlish days, and to crown all her beautiful hair flowing over -her shoulders. I thought several times that afternoon, as I saw her -caressing first one and then another of her three baby boys, that -a painter might have been proud to sketch the pretty group, and to -throw in at his fancy gorgeous draperies, antique vases and beautiful -flowers, in lieu of the rude coarse framework of a log-house. - -I could not but notice this Christmas Day that no attempt was made at -_singing_, not even our favourite hymns were proposed; in fact the -whole year had been so brim full of misfortune and trouble that I think -none of our hearts were attuned to melody. Ah! dear reader, it takes -long chastening before we can meekly drink the cup of affliction and -say from the heart, “_Thy will be done!_” Let you and I, remembering -our own shortcomings in this respect, be very tender over those of -others! - -Our party broke up early, as the children and their mother had to be -got home before the light of the short winter-day had quite vanished, -but we all agreed that we had passed a few hours very pleasantly. - -Very different was our fare on New Year’s Day of 1875--a sumptuous wild -turkey, which we roasted, having been provided for us by the kindness -of one whom we must ever look upon in the light of a dear friend. - -The “gentlemanly Canadian,” mentioned by me in my Bush reminiscences, -read my papers and at once guessed at the authorship. Being in Muskoka -on an election tour with his friend Mr. Pardee, he procured a guide -and found us out in the Bush. He stayed but a short time, but the very -sight of his kind friendly face did us good for days. Finding that I -had never seen a wild turkey from the prairie, he asked leave to send -me one, and did not forget his promise, sending a beautiful bird which -was meant for our Christmas dinner, but owing to delays at Bracebridge -only reached us in time for New Year’s Day; which brings me to 1875, an -era of very important family changes. - -I began this year with more of hopefulness and pleasure than I had -known for a long time. My determination that this year should see us -clear of the Bush had long been fixed, and I felt that as I brought -unconquerable energy, and the efforts of a strong will to bear upon -the project, it was sure to be successful. I had no opposition now to -dread from my dear companions; both my son and daughter were as weary -as myself of our long-continued and hopeless struggles. My son’s health -and strength were visibly decreasing; he had already spent more than -three years of the prime of his life in work harder than a common -labourer’s, and with no better result than the very uncertain prospect -of a bare living at the end of many years more of daily drudgery. His -education fitted him for higher pursuits, and it was better for him to -begin the world again, even at the age of thirty-two, than to continue -burying himself alive. - -We had long looked upon Bush life in the light of exile to a penal -settlement without even the convict’s chance of a ticket-of-leave. All -these considerations nerved me for the disagreeable task of getting -money from England for our removal, in which, thanks to the unwearied -kindness of the friends I have before mentioned, I succeeded, and -very early in the year we began to make preparations for our final -departure. It required the stimulus of hope to enable us to bear the -discomforts of our last two months’ residence in the Bush. - -After the turn of the year, immense quantities of snow continued to -fall till we were closely encircled by walls of ice and snow fully -five feet in depth. The labour of keeping paths open to the different -farm-buildings was immense, and the unavoidable task of cutting away -the superincumbent ice and snow from the different roofs was one of -danger as well as toil. I was told that we were passing through an -exceptional winter, and I must believe it, as long after we were in -Bracebridge the snow continued to fall, and even so late as the middle -of May a heavy snow-storm spread its white mantle on the earth, and hid -it from view for many hours. - -The last day at length arrived, we sat for the last time by our -log-fire, we looked for the last time on the familiar landscape, and -I, at least, felt not one pang of regret. My bump of adhesiveness is -enormous; I cling fondly to the friends I love, to my pet animals, -and even to places where I have lived; in quitting France I could have -cried over every shrub and flower in my beloved garden. How great then -must have been my unhappiness, and how I must have loathed my Bush -life, when at quitting it for ever, my only feeling was joy at my -escape! - -At the time we left, the roads were so dangerous for the horses’ legs -that my son had the greatest difficulty in hiring a wagon and team for -our own use--all our heavy baggage had been taken in by ox-sleighs. -He succeeded at last, and in the afternoon of the 2nd of March our -exodus began. My son and the driver removed all but the front seat, -and carefully spread our softest bedding, blankets and pillows, at -the bottom of the wagon, and on these my daughter and myself reclined -at our ease with our dear little charge between us. My favourite cat -Tibbs, of “Atlantic Monthly” celebrity, was in a warm basket before me, -and her companion Tomkins, tied up in a bag, slept on my lap the whole -way. My son sat with the driver, and Jack, our black dog, ran by the -side. We slept at Utterson, and in the morning went on to Bracebridge, -where my son had secured for us a small roadside house. - -When we were tolerably settled Edward started for Toronto and Montreal -in search of employment, taking with him many excellent letters of -introduction. In Montreal he was most kindly and hospitably welcomed -by two dear friends, ladies who came out with us in the same ship from -England, who received him into their house, introduced him to a large -circle of friends, and did much to restore the shattered health of the -“handsome emigrant,” as they had named him in the early stages of their -acquaintance. Eventually finding nothing suitable in either place, our -dear companion and protector for so many years decided to go on the -Survey, his name having been put down by our kind friend, the donor of -the wild turkey, on the Staff of his relation, Mr. Stuart, appointed by -Government to survey the district of Parry Sound. Severe illness of our -little boy, followed by illness of my own which still continues, was my -welcome to Bracebridge, but still I rejoice daily that our Bush life is -for ever over. - -Here I finally drop the curtain on our domestic history, and make but -a few parting observations. I am far from claiming undue sympathy for -my individual case, but would fain deter others of the genteel class, -and especially elderly people, from breaking up their comfortable homes -and following an _ignis fatuus_ in the shape of emigration to a distant -land. - -I went into the Bush of Muskoka strong and healthy, full of life and -energy, and fully as enthusiastic as the youngest of our party. I -left it with hopes completely crushed, and with health so hopelessly -shattered from hard work, unceasing anxiety and trouble of all kinds, -that I am now a helpless invalid, entirely confined by the doctor’s -orders to my bed and sofa, with not the remotest chance of ever leaving -them for a more active life during the remainder of my days on earth. - - - - -A WEDDING IN MUSKOKA. - -An Incident of Life in the Canadian Backwoods. - - - - -A WEDDING IN MUSKOKA. - - -I freely acknowledge that I am a romantic old woman; my children are -continually telling me that such is my character, and without shame -I confess the soft impeachment. I do not look upon romance as being -either frivolous, unreal, or degrading; I consider it as a heaven-sent -gift to the favoured few, enabling them to cast a softening halo of -hope and beauty round the stern and rugged realities of daily life, -and fitting them also to enter into the warm feelings and projects -of the young, long after the dreams of love and youth have become -to themselves things of the past. After this exordium, I need hardly -say that I love and am loved by young people, that I have been the -depositary of many innocent love secrets, and have brought more than -one affair of the kind to a happy conclusion. I feel tempted to record -my last experience, which began in France and ended happily in Muskoka. -The parties, I am happy to say, are still living, to be, I doubt not, -greatly amused at my faithful reminiscences of their past trials. - -Just seven years ago I was in France busily working in my beautiful -flower-garden, when I was told that visitors awaited me in the -drawing-room. Hastily pulling off my garden-gloves and apron, I -went in and found a very dear young friend, whom I shall call John -Herbert; he asked my permission to present to me four young ladies -of his acquaintance, all sisters, and very sweet specimens of pretty, -lady-like English girls. The eldest, much older than the rest, and -herself singularly attractive, seemed completely to merge her own -identity in that of her young charges, to whose education she had -devoted the best years of her early womanhood, and who now repaid her -with loving affection and implicit deference to her authority. It was -easy for me to see that the “bright, particular star” of my handsome, -dashing young friend was the second sister, a lovely, shy girl of -sixteen, whose blushes and timidity fully assured me of the state of -matters between the two. - -The mother of Mary Lennox (such was my heroine’s name) lived in France, -her father in England, and in this divided household the care of the -three younger girls had been entirely left to their eldest sister. John -Herbert had made their acquaintance in that extraordinary manner in -which young ladies and gentlemen do manage to become acquainted, as -often in real life as in novels, without any intercourse between the -respective families. For two or three months he had been much in their -society, and the well-known result had followed. I have rarely seen a -handsomer couple than these boy and girl lovers, on whom the eldest -sister evidently looked with fond and proud admiration; and when, after -a protracted visit, they took leave of me, I felt fully disposed to -treat them with the warmest kindness and friendship. - -In subsequent interviews, poor Herbert more fully opened his heart to -me, and laid before me all his plans and projects for the future. The -son of an old officer who fell during the Crimean war, he had neither -friends nor fortune, but had to make his own position in the world. -At this time he was twenty-one, and having just entered the merchant -service was about to sail for Australia. - -He told me also of the fierce opposition made by every member of Mary’s -family, except her eldest sister, to their engagement. I was not at -all surprised at this, and told him so; for could anything be more -imprudent than an engagement between two people so young and so utterly -without this world’s goods? - -Mary, like himself, had neither fortune nor prospects. She was going -to England to a finishing school with her two sisters, with the fixed -idea of qualifying herself for a governess. Herbert entreated me to be -a friend to these dear girls in his absence, to watch especially over -his Mary during their brief holidays which were to be spent in France, -to be his medium of correspondence with her while away, and above all -to watch for every incidental opening to influence her family in his -favour. - -To all his wishes I at last consented, not without seriously laying -before him that his carrying out this wish of his heart mainly depended -upon his own steadiness, good conduct, and success in his profession. -He promised everything, poor fellow, and religiously kept his promise. -A few hurried interviews at my house were followed by a tearful -farewell, and then, for the first time, the young lovers drifted apart. -Herbert sailed for Australia, and Mary and her sisters crossed the -Channel and went to school. - -I shall try briefly to sketch the appearance of my two young friends -at this momentous epoch of their lives. Mary Lennox had large, soft, -grey eyes full of expression, with very beautifully pencilled eyebrows -of dark-brown, the colour of her hair, of which she had a great -abundance. She had a very handsome nose, and a well-formed face, with -a colour varying with every shade of feeling. In height she was rather -below than above middle size, with a pretty, slight figure, girlish -and graceful. In complexion she was a fair brunette, which suited well -with the colour of her eyes and hair. A great charm to me was the shy, -downcast look of her pretty face, partly arising from the natural -timidity of her character, and partly from the novelty of her position. - -After a confidential intercourse of some weeks, I found her possessed -of considerable character and steady principles, and her early -engagement seemed to have given her far more serious views of life and -its duties, than could have been expected in one so young. While her -more mercurial sisters were romping in my garden, and chasing my pussy -cats, she would mostly sit with her hand confidingly in mine, while -her eldest sister and myself talked of books, music, and all the topics -of the day. - -As to John Herbert, none could look upon him and not acknowledge that -he was as eminently handsome as his young lady-love. Not above middle -height, his figure was slight and elegant, but well knit and muscular, -giving promise of still greater strength when more fully developed. -His merry laughing eyes were a clear hazel, with yellow spots, very -uncommon and very beautiful. His features finely cut, and delicately -chiselled, would have been perfect, but that critics pronounced his -nose to be a trifle too long. His eyebrows were dark and rather thickly -marked, giving great expression to his eyes. A beautiful head of dark -curly hair, and a soft short moustache completed the appearance of one -of the handsomest boys I have ever seen. - -At this time he was full of energy, life, and determination, fond of -active, outdoor employment, with a presence of mind and a dauntless -courage which never failed him in moments of danger, and which enabled -him in after years to extricate himself and others from scenes of -imminent danger. Indeed, his sister averred that such was his presence -of mind, that should his ship be wrecked, and every one on board be -lost, Herbert would surely be saved if with only a butter-boat to cling -to. He was truly affectionate and kind-hearted, but at this early age -slightly imperious and self-willed, having been greatly flattered and -spoilt in childhood; but contact with the world does much to smooth off -the sharpest angularities and poor Herbert had a rough future before -him. - -After Herbert had sailed for Melbourne, and Mary and her sisters -had gone to school, more than a year elapsed, during which time -letters duly arrived, which I carefully forwarded; and soon after the -expiration of that time, he and his ship arrived safely at Liverpool. -Having with some difficulty obtained from the owners a few days’ leave, -he hurried over to France to see and reassure his anxious and beloved -Mary. Fortunately it was the Christmas holidays, and as soon as I could -notify his arrival to Miss Lennox, she brought all the dear girls down -to me. - -Then ensued, for the lovers, long walks up and down my garden, in spite -of the cold; for us all a few pleasant tea-parties; and then another -separation, which this time was to extend over more than three years. - -I am by no means favourable to long engagements, but these two were so -young that I have always considered the years of anxiety and suspense -they passed through, as an excellent training-time for both. They -certainly helped to form Mary’s character, and to give her those habits -of patience and trusting hopefulness which have been of so much benefit -to her since. Nor was she ever allowed to think herself forgotten. -Fond and affectionate letters came regularly every month, and at rare -intervals such pretty tokens of remembrance as the slender means of -her sailor lover could procure. Perfumes and holy beads from India, -feathers from Abyssinia, and a pretty gold ring, set with pearls of the -purest water, from the Persian Gulf. - -Later came the pleasing intelligence that John Herbert had passed an -excellent examination to qualify him as mate, and was on board one -of the ships belonging to the company which took out the expedition -for laying the cable in the Persian Gulf. On board this ship, called -the _British India_, he met with a gentleman, whose influence over -his future fate has long appeared to us all providential. This person -was Major C----, the officer in command of the party sent out. They -had many conversations together; and cheered and encouraged by his -kindness, Herbert ventured to address a letter to him, in which he -stated how much he was beginning to suffer from the heat of India; how -in his profession he had been driven about the world for nearly five -years, and still found himself as little able to marry and settle as -at first; that he had no friend to place him in any situation which -might better his position, and that his desire to quit a seafaring life -was increased by the fact that he was never free from sea-sickness, -which pursued and tormented him in every voyage just as it did in the -beginning. - -The kind and gentlemanly Major C---- responded warmly to this appeal; -they had a long interview, in which he told Herbert that he himself -was about to return to England, and felt sure that he could procure for -him a good situation in the Telegraph Department in Persia. He gave him -his address in London, and told him to come and see him as soon as he -got back from India. - -John Herbert lost no time, when the expedition was successfully over, -in giving up his situation as mate, and in procuring all necessary -testimonials as to good conduct and capacity. Indeed, he so wrought -upon the officials of the _British India_, that they gave him a free -passage in one of their ships as far as Suez. The letter containing -the news of his improved prospects and speedy return occasioned the -greatest joy. - -I had some time before made the acquaintance of Mrs. Lennox, and from -her manner, as well as from what Mrs. Lennox told me, I saw with -joy that all active opposition was over, and that the engagement was -tacitly connived at by the whole family. It was in the beginning of -April that John Herbert arrived, his health much improved by absolute -freedom from hard work and night watches. He had to pay all his own -expenses from Suez, and just managed the overland journey on his little -savings of eighteen or twenty pounds. - -The “lovers’ walk” in my garden was now in constant occupation, and the -summer-house at the end became a permanent boudoir. After a few days -given to the joy of such an unexpected and hopeful reunion, Herbert -wrote to Major C---- to announce his arrival, and to prepare him for -a subsequent visit. He waited some days in great anxiety, and when he -received the answer, brought it directly to me. I will not say that -despair was written on his face--he was of too strong and hopeful a -temperament for that--but blank dismay and measureless astonishment -certainly were, and not without cause. The writer first expressed his -deep regret that any hope he had held out of a situation should have -induced Herbert to give up his profession for a mere chance. He then -stated that on his own return to England he had found the Government in -one of its periodical fits of parsimony, and that far from being able -to make fresh appointments, he had found his own salary cut down, and -all supernumeraries inexorably dismissed. Such were the contents of -Major C----’s letter. It was indeed a crushing blow. John Herbert could -not but feel that his five years of tossing about the world in various -climates had been absolutely lost, so far as being settled in life was -concerned, and he could not but feel also that he had again to begin -the great battle of life, with prospects of success much diminished by -the fact of his being now nearly twenty-six years of age. - -Many long and anxious conversations ensued on the receipt of this -letter. Both Herbert and Mary bravely bore up against the keen -disappointment of all their newly-raised hopes. If the promised and -coveted situation had been secured, there would have been nothing to -prevent their almost immediate marriage; now all chance of this was -thrown far into the background, and all that could be done was to trace -out for Herbert some future plan of life to be begun with as little -delay as possible. At the death of a near relative he would be entitled -to a small portion of money amounting to five hundred pounds. This -he now determined to sink for the present sum of two hundred pounds -tendered by the Legal Assurance Society, in lieu of all future claims. - -It was the end of July, 1870, before the necessary papers were all -signed, and with the money thus raised, Herbert resolved at once to -start for New York, where he proposed embarking his small capital in -some business in which his thorough knowledge of French might be useful -to him. He prudently expended a portion of his money in a good outfit -and a gold watch. - -Soon after his arrival in New York he wrote to tell us that at the same -hotel where he boarded he had met with an old French gentleman recently -from Paris, that they had gone into partnership and had opened a small -establishment on Broadway for the sale of French wines and cigars. He -wrote that they had every hope of doing well, numbers of foreigners -buying from them, Frenchmen particularly coming in preference where -they could freely converse in their own language. Just at this epoch -the French and German war broke out, and stretching as it were across -the broad Atlantic, swept into its ruinous vortex the poor little -business in New York on which dear friends at home were building up -such hopes of success. Herbert and his partner found their circle of -French customers disappear as if by magic, the greater part recalled -to their own country to serve as soldiers. No German would enter a -French store, the English and Americans gave them no encouragement, and -amid the stirring events which now occupied the public mind, the utter -failure of the small business on Broadway took place without exciting -either notice or pity. - -Herbert saved nothing from the wreck of affairs but his gold watch -and his clothes. It was about this time that a casual acquaintance -mentioned to John Herbert the “free-grant lands” of Muskoka, pointing -them out as a wide and promising field for emigration. He told -him that he knew several families who had located themselves in -that distant settlement, and who had found the land excellent, the -conditions on which it was to be held easy of fulfilment, and the -climate, though cold, incomparably healthy. - -This intelligence, coming at a time when all was apparently lost, -and his future prospects of the gloomiest kind, decided John Herbert -to find his way to Muskoka and to apply for land there. He found a -companion for his long journey in the person of a German who had come -over with him in the same ship from Havre, and who, like himself, had -entirely failed in bettering his condition in New York. - -This poor young man had left a wife and child in Germany, and now -that the war had broken out, having no vocation for fighting, he was -afraid to venture back. Herbert sold his gold watch (for which he had -given twenty pounds) for fifty dollars, and his companion being much -on a par as to funds, they joined their resources and started for -Muskoka. After a very fatiguing journey, performed as much as possible -on foot, but latterly partly by rail and partly by boat, they arrived -at Bracebridge, where the German took up one hundred acres, Herbert -preferring to wait and choose his land in spring; and it was agreed -that during the winter, now beginning with great severity, they should -work together and have everything in common. - -Having engaged a man who knew the country well to go with them and -point out the land they had just taken up, they bought a few necessary -articles, such as bedding, tools, a cooking-stove, and a small supply -of provisions, and started for the township in which they were about -to locate. Once upon the land they set to work, cleared a spot of -ground, and with some assistance from their neighbours built a small -shanty sufficient to shelter them for the winter. It was when they -were tolerably settled that Herbert began to feel what a clog and a -hindrance his too hastily formed partnership was likely to be. Feeble -in body and feeble in mind, his companion became every day more -depressed and home-sick. At last he ceased entirely from doing any -work, which threw a double portion upon Herbert, who had in addition -to do all commissions, and to fetch the letters from the distant -post-office in all weathers. - -Poor Wilhelm could do nothing but smoke feebly by the stove, shudder -at the cold now becoming intense, and bemoan his hard fate. He was -likewise so timid that his own shadow frightened him, and he could -not bear to be left alone in the shanty. Herbert had a narrow escape -of being shot by him one night on his return, rather late, from the -post-office. Wilhelm, hearing footsteps, in his fright took down from -the wall Herbert’s double-barrelled gun, which was kept always loaded, -and was vainly trying to point it in the right direction, out of the -door, when Herbert entered to find him as pale as death, and with limbs -shaking to that degree that fortunately he had been unable to cock the -gun. - -It was indeed hard to be tied down to such a companionship. Herbert -himself suffered severely from the cold of the Canadian climate, coming -upon him as it did after some years’ residence in India, but he never -complained, and his letters home to Mary and all of us spoke of hopeful -feelings and undiminished perseverance. He has often told us since -that he never left the shanty without a strong presentiment that on -his return he should find it in flames, so great was the carelessness -of his companion in blowing about the lighted ashes from his pipe. -For this reason he always carried in the belt he wore round him, night -and day, his small remainder of money and all his testimonials and -certificates. A great part of his time was occupied in snaring rabbits -and shooting an occasional bird or squirrel with which to make soup for -his invalid companion. He used to set his snares overnight and look -at them the first thing in the morning. One bitter cold morning he -went out as usual to see if anything had been caught, leaving Wilhelm -smoking by the stove. He returned to find the shanty in flames and his -terrified companion crying, screaming, and wringing his hands. Herbert -called to him in a voice of thunder, “The powder!” The frightened fool -pointed to the half-burnt shanty, into which Herbert madly dashed, and -emerged, half smothered, with a large carpet-bag already smouldering, -in which, among all his best clothes, he had stored away his entire -stock of gunpowder in canisters. He hurled the carpet-bag far off into -a deep drift of snow, by which prompt measure he probably saved his own -life and his companion’s, who seemed quite paralysed by fear. He then -attempted to stop the fire by cutting away the burning rafters, but -all his efforts were useless; hardly anything was saved but one trunk, -which he dragged out at once though it was beginning to burn. - -The tools, the bedding, the working-clothes, and most of his good -outfit were consumed, and at night he went to bed at a kind neighbour’s -who had at once taken him in, feeling too truly that he was again a -ruined man. - -One blessing certainly accrued to him from this sweeping misfortune. -He for ever got rid of his helpless partner, who at once left the -settlement, leaving Herbert again a free agent. Necessity compelled -him now to do what he had never done before--to write home for -assistance. His letter found his eldest sister in a position to help -him, as she had just sunk her own portion in the same manner that he -had done, not for her own benefit, but to assist members of the family -who were in difficulties. She sent him at once fifty pounds, and with -the possession of this sum all his prospects brightened. - -He left the scene of his late disaster, took up one hundred acres of -land for himself and another one hundred in the name of Mary Lennox, -making sure that she would eventually come out to him. He set hard to -work chopping and clearing a few acres, which, as the spring opened, he -cropped judiciously. He then called a “bee,” which was well attended, -and raised the walls of a good large log-house, the roof of which he -shingled entirely himself in a masterly manner. For stock he bought -two cows and some chickens; and then wrote to Mary, telling of his -improved prospects, and asking her if, when he was more fully settled, -she would consent to share his lot in this far-off corner of the earth. -At this time Mary was on a visit to me, having been allowed, for the -first time, to accept my warm invitation. All her family were at the -sea-side in England, having left during the French war. - -I have often said that a special Providence certainly watched over -Herbert and Mary. It did seem most extraordinary that just at this -particular time a married sister of John Herbert, with her husband and -children, had suddenly determined to join him in Muskoka. The reason -was this: Mr. C----, her husband, was the classical and mathematical -professor in a large French academy; but years of scholastic duties and -close attention to books had so undermined his health, that he was -quite unable to continue the exercise of his profession; indeed, the -medical men consulted by him gave it as their opinion that nothing but -an entire change of climate and occupation, and a complete abstinence -from all studious pursuits, together with an outdoor life, would give -him the slightest chance of recovery. Herbert was written to and -authorised to take up land for them near his own, and it was settled -that they were to sail in the end of July. - -Now came my time for persuasion and influence. I opened a -correspondence with Mary’s father, who had recently received an -explicit and manly letter from Herbert, with which he was much pleased. -I represented to Mr. Lennox that this was no longer the “boy-and-girl -love” (to quote his own words) of five years ago, but a steady -affection, which had been severely tested by trouble, difficulty, -opposition, and separation; that no future opportunity could ever be -so favourable as the present one for his daughter going out to her -future husband under the protection and guardianship of a family soon -to become her relations, and who would, in everything, watch over her -interest and comfort. In short, I left nothing unsaid that could make -a favourable impression, willingly conceding to his paternal feelings -that it was, in a worldly point of view, a match falling short of his -just expectations for his beautiful and accomplished child. - -When two or three letters had passed between us, we agreed that Mary -should go over at once to her family, and join her personal influence -to my special pleading. - -I waited with great anxiety for her answer. At length it came. Her -family had consented. Fortunately she was just of age; and as she -remained steadfast in her attachment, they agreed with me that it would -be best for her to go out with her future sister-in-law. Mary wrote -to Mrs. C----, gratefully accepting her offer of chaperonage, and we -despatched the joyful news to Herbert; but unfortunately named a date -for their probable arrival which proved incorrect, as their vessel -sailed from London two or three weeks before the expected time. This we -shall see was productive of much temporary annoyance. - -I pass over all the details of their voyage and subsequent journey, -and now take up the narrative in Mrs. C----’s words, telling of their -arrival at Mary’s future home: - -“It was about noon of a burning day in August when the stage-wagon in -which we came from Utterson turned out of the road into the Bush. After -going some little way in a dreadful narrow track, covered with stumps, -over which the wagon jolted fearfully, we were told to get down, as -the driver could not go any farther with safety to the horses; and we -therefore paid and dismissed him. - -“We soon came to a shanty by the roadside, the owner of which met us -and offered to be our guide. He evidently knew to whom we were going, -but the perplexed and doubtful expression of his face when he caught -sight of our party was most amusing. He looked from one to the other, -and then burst out, in quite an injured tone, ‘But nothing is ready for -you; the house even is not finished. Mr. Herbert knows nothing of your -coming so soon; he told me this morning that he did not expect you for -three weeks! What will he do?’ The poor man, a great friend and ally -of Herbert’s, appeared quite angry at our ill-timed arrival; but we -explained to him that we should only be too thankful for any kind of -shelter, being dreadfully wearied with our long journey, and the poor -children crying from heat, fatigue, and the attacks of the mosquitoes. - -“Charles now proposed going in advance of us, to prepare Herbert for -our arrival. He walked quickly on, and, entering the clearing, caught -sight of Herbert, hard at work in the burning sun, covered with dust -and perspiration, and, in fact, barely recognisable, being attired in a -patched suit of common working-clothes, which he had snatched from the -burning shanty, with his toes also peeping out of a pair of old boots -with soles partly off. - -“On first seeing his brother-in-law, every vestige of colour left his -face, so great was his emotion, knowing that we must be close at hand. -To rush into the house, after a few words of explanation, to make a -brief toilet, greatly aided by a bucket of water and plenty of soap, -to attire himself in a most becoming suit of cool brown linen, and, -finally, to place on his hastily-brushed head a Panama hat, which we -had often admired, was the work of little more than a quarter of an -hour; and, to Charles’ great amusement, the scrubby, dirty-looking -workman he had greeted, stepped forward in the much-improved guise of a -handsome and aristocratic-looking young planter. - -“In the meantime, our guide having brought us within sight of the outer -fence, hastily took his leave, hardly waiting to receive our thanks. -Mary and I have often laughed since at his great anxiety to get away -from us, which we know now was partly from delicate reluctance to -intrude upon our first interview, but a great deal more from his horror -at the state in which he knew things to be at the house. - -“Poor Herbert, when he reached us, could hardly speak. After one fond -and grateful embrace of his darling, and a most kind and affectionate -welcome to the children and myself, he conducted us to the house. -Although his neighbour had prepared us for disappointment, yet I must -own that we felt unutterable dismay when we looked around us. - -“The house was certainly a good large one, but it was a mere shell; -nothing but the walls and the roof were up, and even the walls were -neither chinked nor mossed, so that we could see daylight between all -the logs. The floor was not laid down, but in the middle of it an -excavation had been begun for a cellar, so that there was a yawning -hole, in which for some weeks my children found a play-closet and a -hiding-place for all their rubbish. - -“Furniture there was none, the only seats and tables being Herbert’s -one trunk, partly burned, saved from the fire, and a few flour-barrels. -There was no semblance of a bed, except a little hay in a corner, a few -sacks, and an old blanket. Some milk-pans and a few plates and mugs -completed the articles in this truly Irish cabin, of which Herbert did -the honours with imperturbable grace and self-possession. He made no -useless apologies for the existing discomforts; he told us simply what -he meant the house to be as soon as he could get time to finish it; -and in the interim he looked about with as much satisfaction as if his -log-house had been Windsor Castle, and we the crowned heads to whom he -was displaying its glories. - -“We found the larder as scantily-furnished as the house; but Herbert -made us a few cakes and baked them in the oven; he boiled some -potatoes, and milked the cow, so that we were not long without some -refreshment. - -“For sleeping we curtained off a corner of the room with our -travelling-cloaks and shawls, and made a tolerable bed with bundles of -hay and a few sacks to cover us. We had brought nothing with us but -our hand-baskets, so were obliged to lie down in most of our clothes, -the nights beginning to be very chilly, and the night air coming in -freely through the unchinked walls. We were, however, truly thankful -this first night to put the children to bed quite early, and to retire -ourselves, for we were thoroughly wearied and worn out. The two -gentlemen lay down, just as they were, in the far corner of the room on -some hay; and if we were chilly and uncomfortable, I think they must -have been more so. - -“The first night we were undisturbed; but on the next, we were hardly -asleep when we were awoke by a horrid and continuous hissing, which -seemed to come from the hay of our improvised bed. We all started up -in terror, the poor frightened children crying loudly. The gentlemen, -armed with sticks, beat the hay of the beds about, and scattered it -completely. They soon had the pleasant sight of a tolerable-sized snake -gliding swiftly from our corner, and making its escape under the door -into the clearing, where Herbert found and killed it next morning. We -must indeed have been tired to sleep soundly, as we all certainly did, -after the beds had been re-arranged. - -“The next day Mr. C---- proposed walking to Utterson, to purchase a few -necessary articles of food; and Herbert went on to Bracebridge, to look -for a clergyman to perform the marriage ceremony between him and Mary. -As to waiting for our luggage, and for the elegant bridal attire which -had been so carefully packed by loving hands, we all agreed that it -would be ridiculous; and dear Mary, like a true heroine, accepted the -discomforts of her situation bravely, and, far from uttering a single -complaint, made the best of everything. - -“Both Mr. C---- and myself had fits of irrepressible vexation at the -state of affairs; but as we could in no way help ourselves, we thought -it best to be silent, and to hurry on the building of a log-house for -ourselves, which we at once did. - -“The very day after our arrival, Mary and I undertook the work of -housekeeping, taking it by turns day and day about. We found it most -fatiguing, the days being so hot and the mosquitoes so tormenting. -Moreover, the stove being placed outside, we were exposed to the -burning sun every time we went near it, and felt quite ill in -consequence. - -“When Herbert returned from Bracebridge, he told us that the Church of -England clergyman being away at Toronto, he had engaged the services of -the Wesleyan minister whose chapel he had sometimes attended, and that -gentleman had promised to come as soon as possible, and to bring with -him a proper and respectable witness. - -“The day of his coming being left uncertain, Mary and I were kept in a -continual state of terror and expectation, and at such a time we felt -doubly the annoyance of not being able to get from Toronto even the -trunks containing our clothes. In vain we tried to renovate our soiled -and travel-stained dresses; neither brushing, nor shaking, nor sponging -could alter their unmistakably shabby appearance, and it required some -philosophy to be contented. It was worse for poor Mary than for any one -else; and I felt quite touched when I saw her carefully washing and -ironing the lace frill from the neck of her dress, and then arranging -it again as nicely as possible. - -“Two days passed, and on the afternoon of the third we had put the poor -children to sleep, and were lying down ourselves, quite overcome with -the heat, when my husband entered hastily to tell us that the Rev. Mr. -W---- had arrived to perform the marriage ceremony, and had brought -with him as witness a good-natured store-keeper, who had left his -business to oblige Herbert, with whom he had had many dealings. - -“Herbert, who had dressed himself every day, not to be taken by -surprise, was quite ready, and kept them in conversation while Mary -and I arranged our hair, washed the children’s faces and hands, and, -as well as we could, prepared the room. When all was ready they were -summoned, and in making their introductory bows, both our visitors -nearly backed themselves into the yawning cavern in the middle of the -floor, which, in our trepidation, we had forgotten to point out. - -“Very impressively did the good minister perform the marriage service; -and at its close he addressed to the young couple a few words of -serious and affectionate exhortation, well suited to the occasion. - -“He begged them to remember, that living as they were about to do in -the lonely forest, far from the public ordinances of religion, they -must give the more heed to their religious duties, and to the study of -the Word of God, endeavouring to live not for this world only, but for -that other world to which young and old were alike hastening. - -“Herbert looked his very best on this momentous occasion, and, in -spite of all disadvantages of dress and difficulties of position, dear -Mary looked most sweet and beautiful, and created, I am sure, quite a -fatherly interest in the heart of the good old clergyman, himself the -father of a numerous family. We could offer the clergyman and witness -no refreshment; and when they were gone, our wedding-feast consisted of -a very salt ham-bone, dough dumplings, and milk-and-water.” - -So ends Mrs. C----’s narrative, to which I shall append but few -observations. All went well from the day of the wedding, and on -that day the sun went down on a happy couple. Doubt, anxiety, -separation--all these were at an end; and, for weal or woe, John -Herbert and Mary Lennox were indissolubly united. Trials and troubles -might await them in the future; but for the present, youth, health, -hope, and love were beckoning them onward with ineffable smiles. - -The luggage soon arrived, and comfortable bedding superseded hay and -snakes. Mr. and Mrs. C---- removed as soon as possible into their own -log-house, leaving our young couple to the privacy of their home. - -Herbert worked early and late to finish his house, and partitioned off -a nice chamber for Mary, which was prettily furnished and ornamented -with cherished books, and gifts, and keepsakes from dear and distant -friends. The wealthier members of Mary’s family sent substantial tokens -of goodwill, and many pretty and useful gifts came from the loving -sister, who begins to talk of coming out herself. - -Mary’s parents, cheered and comforted by the happy and contented -tone breathed in her letters, ceased to regret having sanctioned -the marriage; and, to crown all, a little son in due time made his -appearance, to cement still further the love of his parents and to -concentrate a very large portion of it in his own little person. - -Here let the curtain drop. From time to time I may have had -misgivings, but have long been fully satisfied that a blessing has -rested on my well-meant endeavours to secure the happiness of two young -and loving hearts. - - - - -ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH, THIRTY YEARS AGO. - -TOLD ME BY THE WIFE OF AN OLD SETTLER. - - - - -ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH. - - -Thirty 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 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 farming, 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 destination 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 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 extraordinary manner, and -appeared too frightened to move on. - -I whispered to my husband that I saw the green top 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. - -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 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 starting. 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 advanced 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, knowing what a terror -they have of man. - -After steadily looking at each other for at least five minutes--minutes -of suspense and 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 husband had been gone for two days on -important 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 fireplace on the floor, and an open chimney; the room -was very low, and easy of access from the outside. I was living then -with my three little children and a young sister of fourteen who helped -me to take care of them. As it was getting dusk I thought I heard a -human voice distinctly calling from the forest, “Hallo!” I went to the -door and immediately answered in the same tone, “Hallo!” 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 playing 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 animal 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! 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 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 Muskoka were quite infested with -wolves, which, 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 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 unfortunately 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 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 carcase of the -calf; he rushed out with the long stick in his hand, and saw four or -five animals busily tearing off 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 off 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 interrupted. 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; 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 numerous, and the quantity of land cleared up is so -great that the wild animals keep retreating farther and farther into -the recesses of the forest; and even the trappers by profession 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 understand, who are unacquainted -with Bush-life, what the early settlers in Muskoka and other parts -had to suffer. Young creatures with their babies were left alone in -situations which in more settled countries call for the greatest care -and tenderness, and in desolate 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 breakfast, and soon after he -left I became so dreadfully 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 evening, when my -husband returned with one of my sisters. After that I became delirious, -and had hardly recovered when my 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 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. All this windfall was overgrown with -blackberry-bushes, and at this time of year (the autumn) there were -quantities of fruit, and parties used to be made for picking them, with -a view to preserving. - -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 -imaginary 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 pick, and, as he described it, only felt sleepy. -Providentially, in passing an uprooted tree, he saw underneath a large -hole, and creeping 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 careful 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 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!” 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 _bear_ 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 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 our -horse that he dashed off at full speed, and providentially meeting with -no obstacle, never stopped till he 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 suddenly called away -to a fresh situation, by which I lost many more of her interesting -experiences, for as she truly said, numberless were the expedients -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 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 confiscated. 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 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. - -Wolves 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 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 the -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, -accompanied by a young friend armed also, but 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, as is usually the case, return -the same way, they seated themselves on a log by the roadside 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 side next the cedar-swamp. -Guided by her barking the two gentlemen followed quickly, and this -time had a full view in broad daylight of a large brown bear in full -flight, but never got within shooting distance. 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 to 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 probably have been killed but that his shouts -brought up a party of men working on the 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 Bracebridge, and one within a mile of the village, on the -road to the “South Falls,” one of my favourite walks when I was staying -there. There is, however, but little danger of meeting 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.” - - - - -TERRA INCOGNITA; - -OR, - -THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. - - - - -THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA. - - -In reading the history of newly-settled countries and the rise and -progress of mighty states, nothing is more interesting than to trace -the wonderful and rapid results which spring from the smallest -beginnings. In changing the wilderness into 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 civilisation. These last -can only be obtained by the growth and encouragement of the ornamental -as well as useful arts; then comes the dawning of political power, till -at length we see with amusement that the scattered hamlet has become a -thriving village, the village a populous 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 simply unbroken forest. - -Such is the future which, under the fulfilment of certain conditions, -we may confidently predict for the free-grant lands of Muskoka, to -which the Canadian Government are making strenuous efforts to draw -the tide of emigration. Nothing can well be more picturesque than the -tract of country already embracing twelve townships 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 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. Unfortunately 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 judiciously, 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. - -Having been located in the township of Stephenson for more than two -years, I am able to make some observations on the subject, 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 built his log-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 6 - Medical doctors 2 - Barristers, attorneys, conveyancers 7 - Stores 15 - In course of erection 5 - Hotels 6 - Printing-offices 2 - 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 wheelwrights, 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 -Bracebridge, but as he visited Muskoka in exceptionally 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 have every hope that improvement in our roads, as -in everything else, will reach us in time. - -The climate of Muskoka is most favourable to health, even to -invalids, provided they have no consumptive tendencies. For all -pulmonary complaints it is most unsuitable, on account of the very -sudden atmospheric changes. The short summer, with its inevitable -accompaniment of tormenting 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 thank the air of Muskoka for the entire 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 recovery, he was ordered an entire change of climate and -outdoor 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 delicate, and had from infancy held life by a most precarious -tenure; but at the present time he 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,” contributed -to the _Free Grant Gazette_, I earnestly endeavoured to draw public -attention 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 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 conditions are -simply that he shall have cleared and got under cultivation fifteen -acres, and have raised a log-house of proper dimensions. - -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 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 uncertain, the labour very hard, and Bush-farming -for the first four or five years very uphill work. If, however, -instead of yielding 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-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 himself 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 mistakes -and so much failure among our poorer 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 conventional -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 emigration to Muskoka have been -fully discussed, 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 emigrating 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 -competence, if not affluence, 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. - - - - -A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS. - - -During 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 expression, as if they hardly knew where to go or what to do -next. - -Who but must feel the deepest sympathy 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 Muskoka. - -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 conversation to utter the cabalistic -word “Muskoka,” for us to be immediately treated to admonitory shakes -of the head, shrugs of the shoulders, uplifted hands, and very clearly -expressed opinions that we were rushing to certain destruction. - -Now, _we_ emigrated with a definite purpose 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 anything 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 Bracebridge full of doubts and fears -as to their comfortable settlement and ultimate success. - -Happy would it be for the emigrant, married or single, if his -difficulties were ended by his safe arrival at Bracebridge; but such -is not the case. As in all communities there will be an admixture -of worthless and designing 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 country”--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 fellowship is tempted to drink at -the bars of the different hotels, and to join in the low gambling 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. - -The married emigrant likewise is often deceived and misled by people -as ignorant as himself, who give him altogether false impressions 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 purpose of taking up land; but it would -be obviously impossible for this gentleman, and incompatible with the -public duties of himself and his assistants, to enter minutely into the -wants and requirements of each individual 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 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 -who accepted the gratuitous shelter provided for them. Surely for such -a desirable object as the one in view, the sanction and co-operation of -the Dominion Government 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 emigrants come in every year who have -left behind them in the old country dear friends and relations, who -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 -truthfully and gratefully that they were met on their arrival at -Bracebridge with brotherly kindness, Christian sympathy, shelter for -their wives and families, sound reliable advice as to their future -course, and help and encouragement suited to their especial need? It -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 be the case. It appears to me that an -emigrant, arriving as too many do with his means utterly exhausted -and with little but starvation in view for his family and himself, -would have his British feelings of sturdy independence considerably -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 consideration, and I cannot end my few observations 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, GUILDFORD, SURREY. - - _S. &. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Letters from Muskoka - -Author: Harriet Barbara King - -Release Date: September 3, 2016 [EBook #52972] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM MUSKOKA *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a><br /> -<a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a><br /> -<a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<h1>LETTERS FROM MUSKOKA.</h1> - -<p class="titlepage">BY<br /> -AN EMIGRANT LADY.</p> - -<div class="figcenter titlepage" style="width: 145px;"> -<img src="images/seal.jpg" width="145" height="145" alt="Fide et fiducia: Richard Bentley and Son publisher's mark" /> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,<br /> -Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.<br /> -1878.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">[<i>All Rights Reserved.</i>]</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-1.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="PREFACE">PREFACE<br /> -<span class="smaller">TO THE</span><br /> -“LETTERS OF AN EMIGRANT LADY.”</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> -happy home in France, which, with one -short interval, had been the shelter of my -family and myself during fifteen years of -widowhood.</p> - -<p>The commencement of the war found us -living in the outskirts of St. Pierre-lès-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.</p> - -<p>When the war 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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span> -of seven feet. Our large, rambling, convenient -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.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the military commandant notified -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 intelligence 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.</p> - -<p>We felt the deepest sympathy for the -French, and would willingly have helped -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> - -<p>At this time I had a married daughter -residing at Guiñes, 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 Guiñes, 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> -store. In Calais we remained till nearly the -beginning of winter, when my son-in-law -took his family back to Guiñes 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Before the summer was over, my son-in-law, -whose health suffered from his scholastic -duties, made up his mind to emigrate to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> -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 immediately -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 carelessness -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Virulent small-pox and other epidemics,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> -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 disinclined -to try farming, being fond of an -outdoor active life, we came to the decision -to emigrate.</p> - -<p>He relinquished his excellent situation, his -employers behaving with the greatest kindness -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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> -we came out hoping in our innocence that -strong hearts, willing hands, and the pension -of an officer’s widow would be inexhaustible -riches in the wilderness.</p> - -<p>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 employment.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-2.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td></td><td class="tdr">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE</a></td><td class="tdr">v</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#PART_I">LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY</a></td><td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#PART_II">PART II.—LETTERS WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTERWARDS</a></td><td class="tdr">153</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#A_WEDDING_IN_MUSKOKA">A WEDDING IN MUSKOKA</a></td><td class="tdr">187</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#ANECDOTES_OF_THE_CANADIAN_BUSH">ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH, THIRTY YEARS AGO</a></td><td class="tdr">233</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_WILDS_OF_MUSKOKA">TERRA INCOGNITA; OR, THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA</a></td><td class="tdr">261</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#A_PLEA_FOR_POOR_EMIGRANTS">A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS</a></td><td class="tdr">279</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="PART_I"> -<img src="images/header-part1.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger">LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/footer-part1.jpg" width="150" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-3.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER I.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-y.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">You ask me, my dear child, to give -you a few particulars of our voyage -across the Atlantic to Canada, our -journey from Quebec to the Bush of Muskoka, -and our residence here as emigrant farmers -for the last year. As in my diary I have -only chronicled the bare events of each passing -day, you must only expect outlines of Bush -life, and not well filled up pictures. I pass over -the anguish of my separation from you and -your dear ones, and can only say that when -I thought of the attached circle of friends we -were leaving behind us, both in France and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -England, whom probably we should never see -again, I felt strongly tempted to remain; but -the fact that others of the family had preceded -us, and would be expecting our arrival, -that our baggage was already shipped, and -that your brother had taken leave of his -friendly employers, who to the last counselled -him to retain his situation, had weight enough -with me to prevent any change of plan. We -went on board the good ship <i>T——s</i> lying in -the Thames, at least twenty-four hours too -soon, and lay awake the whole of the first -night, as the carpenters never ceased working, -the ship having met with an accident on -her previous voyage.</p> - -<p>The next morning I was greatly grieved to -find that your brother had only engaged <em>two</em> -first-cabin berths for your sister and myself; -and finding that our purse was very scantily -filled, had, with his usual self-denial, taken a -steerage passage for himself, and got a good-natured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -quartermaster to take charge of our -dear French dog old “Nero,” who forthwith -became a <em>stowaway</em>, and was smuggled out of -sight.</p> - -<p>When the vessel was ready, we dropped -down the river to Gravesend, and having -taken in more passengers and emigrants, we -started for Plymouth. We remained there -for a few hours, and I pointed out to your -brother and sister the beautiful spot called -“Drake’s Island,” where, long before <em>they</em> -were born, I had passed a delightful summer -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.</p> - -<p>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 tremendous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -gale set in which lasted for several -days and nights.</p> - -<p>I had been in storms two or three times -off the Irish coast, but confess that I never -felt so frightened as when at every roll our -ship gave (and she <em>was</em> a <em>roller</em>), we heard a -horrid grating sound which we shrewdly suspected -to be caused by part of our cargo of -iron which had shifted its place, and kept -moving with every motion of the ship. We -were told on arriving at Quebec that this unexpected -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 was -hardly able to get up during the whole -passage.</p> - -<p>The tedium of our confinement was, however, -much relieved by the pleasant society -and kindness of two most amiable English -ladies, who were going out to reside with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -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, <em>Jupiter -thundered from Olympus</em>, 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.</p> - -<p>We gave him and his assistants the sobriquet -of “Jupiter and his satellites!” Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -H——s was a portly negro of an imposing -presence, and a benign expression of countenance -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.</p> - -<p>The stewardess told us that he had a very -pretty wife in London, a young Englishwoman, -with a remarkably fair complexion. -She also told us an amusing 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 <i lang="fr">ennui</i>, -applied to Mr. H——s to lend them a book -to read.</p> - -<p>“You know the sort of book we want,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -H——s,” said they; “plenty of love and -fighting, and battles, and all that sort of -thing!”</p> - -<p>“I understand, gentlemen,” said Mr. -H——s, and presently returned with a -<em>large Bible</em> which he placed before them. -“There, gentlemen, you will find in that -book all you want—beautiful love stories, -fierce wars, and plenty of battles!”</p> - -<p>His colour, however, was somewhat against -him, and I could hardly keep my countenance -when a young under-steward, to whom we -were indebted for much attention, said to me -with quite an injured air, “You know, ma’am, -it does take it out of a feller to have to say -‘sir’ to a nigger!”</p> - -<p>Of the young friend C. W., who came out -with us, we saw but little, for though he had -a first-class berth, he was a great deal in the -steerage with your brother, who was a -veritable “Mark Tapley” among the poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -emigrants. He helped the minister in charge -to keep order among them, he procured all -manner of little extra comforts for the sick -women from the surly cooks, and was the -delight of all the children, who followed him -in troops. He managed to be a good deal in -our cabin when we were too ill to move, and -also came to us on deck when we were able -to crawl there. He was a favourite with all -our fellow-passengers, and every lady knew -she might depend upon his gentlemanly -attentions if required. This comforted me a -little for his being in such a disagreeable -position.</p> - -<p>The sea continued very rough indeed even -after we were in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, -and though I thought the <em>real blue water</em> -which I saw for the first time very beautiful, -yet I could by no means join in the raptures -of my fellow-passengers, but strictly averred, -that although a passionate admirer of “Old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -Ocean,” it was most decidedly when I -viewed it from <i lang="la">terra-firma</i>. I will not -weary you with minute details of our slow -passage up the beautiful St. Lawrence, nor -dilate upon the interest I felt in watching, -first the thinly-scattered white huts, and -afterwards the thickly-clustered villages of -the “habitants,” with their curious churches -and shining spires, backed by the dark pine -forests, and behind them ranges of blue-capped -mountains, compared with which the -hills of my own dear England were as -hillocks.</p> - -<p>We landed at Quebec and went to the -Victoria Hotel, where your sister and I passed -a few miserable hours of suspense and anxiety. -We found ourselves at the very beginning of -an immense journey utterly without means -to carry us on beyond the first few stages. -The little extra expenses paid on leaving the -ship, and the clearing our baggage as far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 unavoidable -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -nearly starving, as we did not like to go to -the <i lang="fr">table-d’hôte</i> 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 -begun.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-4.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER II.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-m.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">My 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 ourselves, -but were some time in settling comfortably, -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 himself -to death.</p> - -<p>I noticed very little in the neighbourhood -of Quebec, being too much occupied with my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -own sad thoughts, and regrets for those I had -left behind; but I did observe that the cows, -horses, and pigs all appeared very small and -manifestly inferior to the cattle in England.</p> - -<p>During this journey I could not help contrasting -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 perpetrated -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 imagining -how greatly it would add to the expense -of the journey. Sleep, however, I found to -be impossible in these close boxes, tier above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -tier, and towards midnight, half smothered, -I made my way to the carriage we had -occupied before retiring.</p> - -<p>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 we 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 scattered -about. It was a cheerless prospect, and -we were thankful when at length we went on.</p> - -<p>We passed the morning more agreeably, -as the guard, a quiet, intelligent man, entered -into conversation with us. He was -telling us of a curious and erudite book about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -to be published at Boston, Massachusetts, -compiled by one of his relations, from numerous -records and papers treasured in the -family, and handed down from one generation -to another, beginning with the first landing -of the “Pilgrim Fathers.”</p> - -<p>His ancestor, with his family, came out in -the <i>Mayflower</i>, and from that time to the -present 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 annual -family gathering at Boston, to which -the remotest connections, if possible, came. -I regret much that I did not take down his -name.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -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 were, in terraces -one above the other.</p> - -<p>An incident occurred in the course of the -day which afforded me a few moments of -exquisite satisfaction, which every mother -will understand.</p> - -<p>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 carriages, -he was recognised, and they immediately -vociferated, “Mr. K.! Mr. K.! three -cheers for Mr. K.!” Then arose three -deafening cheers, which died away in the -distance; but not before your sister and I,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -looking out of the window, saw an indefinite -number of pocket-handkerchiefs, of all colours -and dimensions, fluttering from the windows -in token of recognition.</p> - -<p>Towards the evening of this day, as we -were nearing Toronto, another stoppage occurred, -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.</p> - -<p>On this occasion I could not but think our -situation most alarming. We were drawn -up on a narrow bridge over a foaming torrent, -with 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -in which he had been a reluctant participator, -the week before, and which occurred -to a train in a similar position to ours. This -train waited for many hours, <em>was</em> at last run -into, and twenty-five of the passengers were -killed. Your sister heard every word, but -took care not to disturb my meditations.</p> - -<p>This accident detained us so long, that it -was past midnight when we got into Toronto, -and, hiring a carriage, were driven to a respectable, -cheap family hotel, strongly recommended -to your brother by a kind and -gentlemanly Canadian, who was our fellow-passenger -from England.</p> - -<p>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 <em>supremely uncomfortable</em>, -in a rambling hotel of immense extent, -where I lost my way every time I left the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -saloon; where, from not knowing the hours, -we were all but starved; and where it was -hardly possible to obtain a civil answer from -any one of the attendants.</p> - -<p>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 <em>known</em> to be <em>able</em> -and <em>presumed</em> to be <em>willing</em>, to assist the -views of the son of his old friend.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -lurid glare of the burning trees in the far-off -forest became appalling, as well as magnificent. -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 thoughtlessness.</p> - -<p>We slept that 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 beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -part of our journey. The day was -bright and clear, the water blue, and the -scenery most beautiful. All was changed -when we landed at Orillia. We had to leave -our nice, roomy, well-appointed steamer for -a filthy, over-crowded little boat, where we -had hardly standing-room.</p> - -<p>I now saw, for the first time, <em>real live -Indians</em>, both men and women, some of each -being on board the boat. Their encampment -on the lake was likewise pointed out -to me. Alas for my enthusiasm! Alas -for my remembrance of youthful delight over -Cooper’s enchanting novels! I was never -more disappointed in my life than when I -first took notice of these degenerate samples -of “Red Men!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -ordinary mortals the dignified and graceful -“Uncas,” or the stately and warlike “Chingachook!” -We landed at Washage, and after -standing for more than an hour on the quay, -took the stage-wagon for Gravenhurst, the -vehicle being so crowded that even the -personal baggage most essential to our comfort -had to be left behind. Oh! the horrors -of that journey! The road was most dreadful—our -first acquaintance with “corduroy” -roads. The forest gradually closed in upon -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -to cling convulsively to the rope which -secured the passengers’ baggage (ours was left -behind and we did not see it for weeks) to -avoid being thrown out, and for long afterwards -we both suffered from the bruises we -received and the strain upon our limbs. At -last, long after dark, we arrived at Gravenhurst, -where we were obliged to sleep, as the -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-in-law -advising me to go before the commissioner -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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -as I had already left. Unfortunately our -means were too exhausted to allow of our remaining -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.</p> - -<p>The not being able to sign at once lost me -the 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 -Devonshire, told me afterwards how sincerely -she pitied us, and said to her husband when -we were gone, “That poor lady and her -daughter little know what hardships they are -about to encounter in the ‘Bush!’” The -drive from Bracebridge to Utterson, the -nearest post-town to our settlement and -distant from it six miles, was a long and -fatiguing stretch of fifteen miles, but unmarked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -by any incident of consequence. The -forest fires were burning fiercely, and our -driver told us that a week before the road -had been impassable. At times when the -trees were burning at each side of the narrow -road we felt a hot stifling air as we passed -rapidly along. It was a gloomy afternoon, -with fitful gusts of wind portending a change -of weather, and we were almost smothered in -clouds of Muskoka dust, much resembling -pounded bricks. When we got to Utterson -we were obliged to remain for two hours to -rest the poor horses, as no fresh ones were to -be got. While at the little tavern we heard -that your brother C. had been married a few -weeks before, as we expected, and that your -dear sister F., with her husband, children, and -the <i lang="fr">fiancée</i>, had rested there on their way to -the “Bush,” six weeks before our arrival. -We were more easy in our minds after this. -We were near our journey’s end, the dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -ones who had preceded us were all well, and -the marriage which for four years I had been -endeavouring to secure for your youngest -brother had been happily accomplished. <em>I</em> -alone of all our party felt a hopeless depression -of spirits, a presentiment of long -months of unhappiness. Our drive from -Utterson was short, but we went slowly, and -it was late in the day before we turned into -the “Bush.” Our driver called the path we -were going a “road;” I saw nothing but a -narrow track with frightful stumps, over -which our wagon jolted in a manner to -endanger our limbs; indeed, though more -than three miles from your brother-in-law’s, -we soon insisted on walking, thinking it safer. -We found the thick undergrowth of “ground-hemlock” -very trying to walk upon, as it -caught our feet in an alarming manner. -Our path was intersected by deep gullies, the -sides of which were precipitous. I must say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -that the horses of this country, like the mules -of Spain, seem wonderfully sure-footed, and -the drivers, who mostly appear as reckless -and daring as Irish carmen, guide them very -safely, and accidents rarely occur.</p> - -<p>After we had crossed the second gully, our -driver said he could go no farther, as it -would be dark before he got out of the -“Bush,” a thing much dreaded here. Accordingly -your brother paid and dismissed -him, and we were left with all our packages -by the roadside to find our way as best we -could. Luckily we came upon a very respectable -settler, working on a part of his -clearing near the path, who most kindly left -his work and piloted us to your brother-in-law’s -lot, where we found a very small “clearing,” -and a log-house in the middle of it. -Your sister F. and the dear children came -running out to meet and welcome us, and -after the first warm congratulations, F. and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -your brother went to fetch the newly-married -couple, who at once came back with them. -There was much to hear and to tell, and you -may judge how great was our dismay to find -that those we had come to burthen with our -presence, were for the time being as penniless -as ourselves, and that weary and fatigued as -we were, the only refreshment my dear child -could offer us was linseed tea without sugar -or milk, and sour, doughy bread which I -could not persuade myself to swallow. Our -sleeping arrangements were of the most -primitive description. A scanty curtain -shaded off a corner of the room, where your -dear sister made a regular shake-down of all -her little stock of bedding. Here your two -sisters, your sister-in-law, the two children -and myself found an ark of refuge. The -three gentlemen lay down in their clothes -before the fire; and thus passed our first night -in the “Bush” of Muskoka!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-5.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER III.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">The next morning, after a brief -and very unsatisfactory toilet, -and a breakfast which needs no -description, your brother C. and his wife -left us to return to their own log-house, entreating -me to go and see them as soon as -I should have recovered from the fatigue of -the journey. You will perhaps wonder that -they should have remained the night with us, -over-crowded as we were; but the fact is, -when we first came here, the forest-paths -between our lots were so indistinctly marked -out and so little trodden, that to be out after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -dark was not safe; and, indeed, it is a rule -among the settlers here, that should any one -be out after dark, the nearest neighbour must -afford him a shelter till the morning. To go -astray in the “Bush” is dreaded above everything.</p> - -<p>I cannot describe how greatly we were -shocked at the changed appearance of your -youngest brother. In spite of his present -happiness as a married man, he bore in his -whole appearance the marks of the hardships -he had gone through. He had left us, only -a year before, in France in high health and -spirits, expecting to find in America, and -especially in New York, an El Dorado where -he might easily employ his little capital to -advantage. We found him now fearfully -thin, his handsome face pinched and worn, -and looking certainly ten years older than his -brother, fully five years his senior. In some -future letter I must give you a sketch of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -many misfortunes, his failure in New York, -and subsequent settlement in Muskoka, together -with the amusing account of his marriage -given me by your sister F.</p> - -<p>My first employment in the Bush was -to write to my lawyer, entreating a further -advance of money, and to some kind friends -who had already helped us for the same -purpose.</p> - -<p>As soon as this necessary work was -finished, I began to look about me, both outside -and inside of the log-house. I found -that it was placed in the centre of a very -small “clearing” of not more than half an -acre; and the very sight of the dense forest -circling us all round, with hardly any perceptible -outlet, gave me a dreadful feeling -of suffocation, to which was added the constant -alarm of fire, for the dry season had -made every twig and leaf combustible.</p> - -<p>Had it not been for these drawbacks, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -should greatly have admired the situation. -An amphitheatre of rock behind the house, -wooded to the very top, and the trees tinged -with the glowing hues of autumn, was very -picturesque; and the house itself, built upon -an eminence, seemed likely to be dry and -comfortable. The house inside was simply -one tolerable-sized room, which, like the -cobbler’s stall in the nursery ballad, was</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Kitchen, and parlour, and all!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It was built of rough, unhewn logs, chinks -of wood between the logs, and the interstices -filled up with moss. There were two small -windows, and a door in the front. The size -of the house, eighteen feet by twenty-five.</p> - -<p>When your brother-in-law’s logs for his -house were cut, he called a “raising bee,” -which is the custom here. Fourteen of his -neighbours responded to the call. This is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -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 requisite, -and, therefore, four of the best hands -are always chosen for the corners.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>At your brother-in-law’s “bee” the female -element was entirely wanting, and two or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, certainly -not conducing to their ornamentation. -Your sister, always fertile in expedients, -hangs a curtain before these unseemly appendages; -but my lively imagination pierces -behind the veil, and knowing they are <em>there</em>, -gives me a feeling of irritation and disgust -which I cannot describe.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<p>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 blankets -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.</p> - -<p>You know that, from boys, both your -brothers have been excellent amateur carpenters, -and this fact they have turned to good -account in the “Bush.” As soon as time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -could be 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 imminent danger -of starvation from the coarse, bad food, and -the difficulty of procuring it from a distance.</p> - -<p>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 provisions -in sacks slung upon their shoulders -and backs, no light work I can assure -you.</p> - -<p>The staple food of the settlers consists of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -hard salt pork, potatoes, oatmeal, molasses, -rice, and flour for bread, which every family -makes for itself. According to the “rising,” -employed instead of yeast, the bread was -either bitter, sour, or salt, and we only began -to get good bread when our clergyman from -Bracebridge, months after our arrival, recommended -us to use the “Twin Brothers’ yeast,” -which we found answer very well. With -regard to other articles of consumption, such -as tea, sugar, coffee, etc., I was then, and -still am, decidedly of opinion that we were -using up the refuse of all the shops in -Toronto. The tea was full of sloe-leaves, -wild raspberry-leaves, and other natural productions -which never grew in China; and it -was so full of bits of <em>stick</em> that my son -informed the people at the store that we -had collected a nice little stock for winter -fuel.</p> - -<p>My chemical knowledge was not sufficient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -for me to analyse the coffee, which we really -could not drink, but it was a villanous compound, -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 -autumn, many of the settlers prepare it for -their own use.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>We 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -abound with fish, we were so far away from -any piece of water that we could not obtain -what would have been a most agreeable -change from the much-detested salt pork.</p> - -<p>I come now to speak of a delusion which is -very general in the “old country,” and in -which 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 emigration, -which speak of these desirable articles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -of food as being plentiful, and within the -reach of every settler.</p> - -<p>I certainly arrived with a vague notion -that passing deer might 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! There is little game of -any kind left, and to get that good dogs -are wanted, which are very expensive to -keep.</p> - -<p>None of our party have caught the most -distant glimpse of a deer since we came, except -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 escort, was much alarmed at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -hearing a rustling in the “Bush” quite near -her, and a repeated “Ba—a, ba—a!” 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.”</p> - -<p>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 engaged -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 gentlemanly -recreation of shooting. Your youngest -brother was pretty successful in trapping -beaver and musk-rat, and in shooting porcupine; -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -that impossible, and turned with loathing -from the rich repasts prepared from what I -irreverently termed vermin!</p> - -<p>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 husband. -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>gentlemen</em>, however<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -well educated, to come out from the “old -country” expecting situations to be numerous -and easily attainable; all introductions from -friends of <em>yours</em> to friends of <em>theirs</em> are for -the most part useless, unless indeed addressed -to some commercial 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 employment.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -for at your sister’s we were already over-crowded.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Our well-laid plan was a signal failure, -partly because settlers do not like coming to -a “bee” so late in the year (it was November), -and partly because some of the invitations -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> - -<p>The very next day (November 11th), 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 admiration -of the whole settlement, and many -expressed themselves quite ashamed of having -thus left us in the lurch.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -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 hymns. 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.</p> - -<p>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, Presbyterian, -and Wesleyan ministers preached in -turn, and thus some semblance of worship -was kept up. I hardly dare describe the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -miserable change we found in our employments -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -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 <em>had</em> to -get well as best we might, for there was no -doctor nearer than Bracebridge, eighteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -miles off, and had we sent for him, we had -no means of paying either for visits or drugs.</p> - -<p>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 -<em>scare-crow</em>, 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 attenuated -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 much applauded. -We had also a pudding! Well, the less<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -said about that pudding the better. Nevertheless, -I must record that it contained a -<em>maximum</em> of flour and a <em>minimum</em> 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!</p> - -<p>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 hymn: “Hark! the herald -angels sing!” There was indeed a sad -contrast between the festive meetings of -other years, when our little band was unbroken -by death and separation, and when -out of our abundance we could make others -happy, and this forlorn gathering in a strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -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 cheerfulness -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 gentlemen.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 imagination -filled up with all kind of horrors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -which <em>might</em> have happened to the dear ones -we had left behind.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<p class="center">SONNET TO THE MUSKOKA PINES!</p> -<div class="verse">Weird monarchs of the forest! ye who keep</div> -<div class="verse">Your solemn watch betwixt the earth and sky;</div> -<div class="verse">I hear sad murmurs through your branches creep.</div> -<div class="verse">I hear the night-wind’s soft and whispering sigh,</div> -<div class="verse">Warning ye that the spoiler’s hand is nigh:</div> -<div class="verse">The surging wave of human life draws near!</div> -<div class="verse">The woodman’s axe, piercing the leafy glade,</div> -<div class="verse">Awakes the forest-echoes far and near,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></div> -<div class="verse">And startles in its haunts the timid deer,</div> -<div class="verse">Who seeks in haste some far-off friendly shade!</div> -<div class="verse">Nor drop ye stately Pines to earth alone.</div> -<div class="verse">The leafy train who shar’d your regal state—</div> -<div class="verse">Beech, Maple, Balsam, Spruce and Birch—lie prone,</div> -<div class="verse">And having grac’d your grandeur—share your fate!</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-6.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-n.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">New-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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -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 acquisition. -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 safety 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, inexperienced -and unused to the axe, sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -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 fire-wood. This -account much amused us, and E——d made a -neat little caricature of P. in his tub chopping.</p> - -<p>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 hemmed in with small -trees and a thick undergrowth of brushwood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -they always seem cramped, and their lofty -tops unable to spread out to their full size. -Hurricanes here are of frequent occurrence, -and at these 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 distinctly -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 enormous -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>We found the winter fearfully cold, the -thermometer being at times forty degrees -below zero. We had great difficulty in keeping -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 out we had no -means of providing any special outfit, and -therefore brought with us only the ordinary -wardrobes of genteel life. We soon found -that all silks, delicate shawls, laces and ornaments, -are perfectly useless here. Every -article we possess of that kind is carefully put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -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. Indeed, -as our gentlemen politely phrased it, -we made complete “guys” of ourselves, and -I must say that they were not one whit behind -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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -or in deep snow “moccasins” or else “shoe-packs,” -the first 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 Montreal. -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 consist -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 resembling -a fish, more like a monstrous sole -than any other. We ladies, too, were thankful -to lay aside our French kid boots and -delicate slippers, and to wrap our feet and -legs up so completely that they much resembled -mill-posts. Had you or any of our -dear friends seen us in our Esquimaux costume, -you would certainly have failed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -recognise the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen -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.</p> - -<p>Our occupations were manifold; hard work -was the order of the day for every one but -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!</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -Canadian sashes and petticoats for the little -children. Sometimes I read to the children -out of their story-books, but <em>their</em> happiest -time was when they could get your -sister P——e to give them an hour or two -in the evening of story-telling. 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 especially, -who towards night felt much fatigued.</p> - -<p>Dear children! they required some amusement -after the close confinement of the winter’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.</p> - -<p>You must not suppose that all this time -we had no visitors. By degrees many of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -settlers scattered over the neighbourhood -came to see 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 conversation -really interesting.</p> - -<p>One very picturesque elderly man, tall, -spare, and upright, came to fell some pine-trees -contiguous to the 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 unmistakable -Kentish accent. It seemed so -strange to me at first, to be shaking hands -and sitting at table familiarly with one of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -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!”</p> - -<p>I found all the settlers kindly disposed -towards us, and most liberal in giving us a -share of their flower-seeds, plants, and garden -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 sometimes -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 slanderous -gossip; but I am inclined to think not -more than will inevitably be found in small -communities.</p> - -<p>As a body, they certainly are hard-working,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -thrifty, and kind-hearted. Almost universally -they seem contented with their -position and prospects. I have seldom met -with a settler who did not think his own -land the finest in the country, who had not -grown the <em>largest turnip ever seen</em>, and who -was not full of hope that the coveted railway -would certainly pass through his -lot.</p> - -<p>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 wilderness, -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 went 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -promised to go for her as soon as dear F——e -should be taken ill.</p> - -<p>We had been made a little more comfortable -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 immense stock of fire-wood, -which prevented the necessity of so often -opening the door.</p> - -<p>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 variety we could give them, with the -exception of an occasional egg. In this -emergency your brother C——s consented to -sell me a bull calf, which he intended bringing -up, but having also a cow and a heifer, -and fearing to run short of fodder, he consented -to part with him. Thus I became<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -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 speculation.</p> - -<p>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. We 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -miles off, in such a night, was impossible, for -even with a lantern your brother-in-law could -not have ventured into the Bush. Fortunately, -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.</p> - -<p>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 done honour to “Dr. <em>Elizabeth -Black</em>!”</p> - -<p>I did indeed feel thankful when I saw -my child safe in bed, with her dear baby-girl, -washed, dressed, and well bundled up -in flannel, lying by her side, she herself -taking a basin of gruel which I joyfully prepared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -for her. God “tempers the wind to -the shorn lamb.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>This sudden call upon our energies made -me glad that my wandering life in the army -had rendered me very independent of extraneous -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 <em>must</em> -learn in the Bush, is to trust in God, and to -help themselves, for other help is mostly too -far off to be available.</p> - -<p>At the end of this month, when I felt that -I could safely leave dear F——e, I determined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -to go to B——e and sign for my land. -The not having done so before had long been -a cause of great anxiety.</p> - -<p>I had been more than four months in 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 papers. 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -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 -snug, could enjoy looking at the very picturesque -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 slovenliness -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.</p> - -<p>It was late in the afternoon when we -arrived at B——e, where we went to the -N. A. Hotel, and were made very comfortable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -by its kind mistress. The next morning -at ten a.m. we went to the magistrate’s -office, where I signed for my one -hundred acres, and of course came away -with the conscious dignity of a landed proprietor.</p> - -<p>I was charmed with the kind and courteous -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 <i lang="la">Ultima Thule</i> of civilisation, -he told us some amusing anecdotes of what -it had actually been when his grandfather -first 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -knees in soft snow, if I diverged only a step -from the track.</p> - -<p>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 exhausted, -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.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-7.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER V.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">The 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>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 corner 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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 we 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> - -<p>We all stood round in our anomalous costumes, -and a cracked slop-basin represented -the font. Nevertheless, our little darling -behaved incomparably well, and all passed -off pleasantly. With our minister afterwards, -a very 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 accomplishment, -or indeed for anything but the -stern and hard realities of daily labour; conversation -even among the well-educated is -apt to degenerate into discussions about -“crops” and “stock,” and the relative -merits of <em>timothy</em> or <em>beaver hay</em>.</p> - -<p>We saw but little of your brother Edward -at this time, for he was fully occupied in the -log-house, where he lit a large fire every day -that it might be thoroughly aired for our reception, -and then engaged in carpentering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -extensively for our comfort. He put up -numerous shelves for the crockery and -kitchen things, made two very good and -substantial bedsteads, a sofa fixed against the -wall which we call the “daïs,” and a very -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.</p> - -<p>At last the house being finished, quite -aired enough, and otherwise made as comfortable -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 untrodden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -snow on either side of the track 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.</p> - -<p>Of course we travelled in Indian file, one -after the other.</p> - -<p>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 considerably, -and as I was not allowed to carry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -anything, and picked my way very carefully, -I managed to escape with comparatively few -falls, and only two of any consequence, one -when I pitched forward with my face down -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 with help, I could get up. The -effects of this fall I felt for a long time.</p> - -<p>At length we arrived at our new home, -but in spite of the magic of that word, I 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 hid the clearing from -our eyes, I need not say that we were anything -but a gay party. Your kind brother-in-law, -to console me a little, went home and -brought back in his arms, as a present for -me, the little cat of which I had been so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -fond at his house. I cheered up immediately, -and had so much trouble to prevent little -Tibbs from running away and being lost in -the snow, that it was quite an occupation for -me. One member of our party made himself -at home at once, and from the moment of our -entrance took possession of the warmest place -before the stove. This was dear old Nero, -who, as a “French seigneur,” had great -privileges, was much admired in the settlement, -and was always called the “Frenchman!” -His chief delight seemed to be incessantly -barking at the squirrels.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -land, was equally impassable for a wagon and -team.</p> - -<p>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 clearing -was such a partial one that by the 15th 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -He had, however, an excellent yield of eighty -bushels, which fully repaid him for his perseverance -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 crop.</p> - -<p>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, smoking, -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! They -were black from head to foot, and more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -resembled master chimney-sweeps than anything -else. Most of the settlers have a -regular logging-suit made of coarse coloured -stuff; anything better is sure to be spoiled -during such work.</p> - -<p>Our fire, though a bad one, was very -picturesque. It did not burn fiercely enough -to clear off the log-heaps still wet from -the late rains, but it ran far back into -the forest, and many of the tall trees, particularly -the decaying ones, were burning -from bottom to top, and continued in flames -for some days and nights. During the -logging I sincerely pitied the poor oxen, who -are yoked together and attached by a heavy -chain to one immense log after another, till -they are all brought into position, and the -log-heaps are arranged for burning. It is -most distressing to see these patient animals -panting after their exertions, and too often, I -regret to say, beaten and sworn at in a most -outrageous manner.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>Great care is required to prevent accidents -during logging, and fatal ones sometimes -occur. I was in conversation with the reeve -of an adjoining township this summer, and he -told me that two years ago he lost his eldest -son, a young man of great promise, in this -melancholy way. The poor fellow made a -false step while driving his team, and fell -right before the oxen who were coming on -with a heavy log, quite a tree, attached to -them. Before it was possible to stop them, -they had drawn the tree over him and he was -literally crushed to death.</p> - -<p>Not having been able to get the land ready -for corn of any kind, and our only crops being -the potatoes I have mentioned, and a few -garden vegetables, your brother thought it -best to give his whole attention to fencing -our clearing all round, and putting gates at -the three different points of egress. This -was the more necessary as your brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -Charles had a cow and heifer with a large -circle of acquaintances among our neighbour’s -cattle, who came regularly every morning -to fetch them away into the Bush, where -they all fed till night. Your brother made -three gates on the model of French ones, -which are both solid and simple in their -construction, easy to open and easy to shut.</p> - -<p>Wonderful to say, some of the old settlers -condescended to admire these novelties. -Your brother Charles worked with him till -this necessary labour was concluded, and we -were glad enough when our four and a half -acres were securely protected from the daily -inroads of stray cattle. Before the fence was -up, your sister and I spent half our time in -running out with the broom to drive away -the neighbour’s cattle, and protect our -cherished cabbage plants, and the potatoes -just coming up. Two audacious steers in -particular, called Jim and Charlie, used to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -come many times during the day, trot round -the house, drink up every drop of soapy water -in the washing-tubs, and if any linen was -hanging on the lines to dry, would munch it -till driven away.</p> - -<p>Two oxen and two or three cows used to -come early every morning, and cross our -clearing to fetch their friends from your -brother Charles’. We used to hear the -ox-bells, and after they had passed some time -would see them returning in triumph with -Crummie and the heifer, and after your -brother-in-law got a cow, they would go for -Dolly likewise, and then the whole party -would go off and feed together in the Bush -till night.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, all the cattle in this part -wear bells to prevent their being lost. One -day your sister and I went to bring F——e -and the children back to tea, when suddenly -her own cow, Mistress Dolly, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -a neighbour’s oxen called Blindy and Baldface, -came rushing down the path we were -in, and we had just time, warned by the -bells, to scramble out of the way with the -children and get behind some trees, while -F——e, always courageous and active, drove -them in an opposite direction.</p> - -<p>The being able to turn the cattle (a settler’s -riches) into the Bush during the whole -summer, and thus to feed them free of all -expense, is a great boon to the settler; but -this Bush-feeding has its disadvantages, for -the cattle will sometimes stray with what -companions they gather on the road, miles -and miles away, to the great discomfort of -their masters who have to hunt for them.</p> - -<p>All through the past summer, after his -hard day’s work, we used to see your -youngest brother pass with a rope in one -hand and his milk-pail in the other, from -our clearing into the Bush, to look for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -Crummie and the heifer. Sometimes he -would return with them, but much oftener -we had to go without the milk he supplied -us with, as Crummie would be heard of far -away at some distant farm, and occasionally -she and her companion strayed as far as the -Muskoka Road, many miles off, which of -course necessitated great loss of time and -much fatigue the next day in hunting her up. -Both your brothers and your brother-in-law -are excellent at making their way through -the Bush, and as each carries a pocket-compass, -are in little danger of being lost.</p> - -<p>Just before we came here the whole settlement -had to turn out in search of a settler’s -wife, who had gone to look for her cow one -fine afternoon with two of her own children -and two of a neighbour’s, who coveted the -pleasant scrambling walk, and the chance of -berry-picking. As evening came on and they -did not return, much alarm was felt; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -when the night had passed, it was thought -best to call out all the men in the immediate -neighbourhood. Accordingly twenty men -were soon mustered, headed by a skilful -trapper, who has been many years here, -and knows the Bush well. They made a -“trapper’s line,” which means placing the -men in a straight line at considerable -distances from each other, and so beating -the Bush in all directions as they advance, -shouting and firing off their guns continually. -At length, towards the afternoon, the trapper -himself came upon the poor woman and the -four children, not many miles from her home, -sitting under a tree, utterly exhausted by -hunger, fatigue, and incessant screaming for -help. Her account was, that she had found -her cow at some distance from home, had -milked her, and then tried to return, but -entirely forgot the way she came, and after -trying one opening after another became -utterly bewildered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> - -<p>The forest in summer is so unvarying that -nothing is easier than to go astray. As -night came on, she divided the can of milk -among the poor, hungry, crying children, and -at length, tired out, they all slept under a -large tree, the night providentially being fine -and warm. In the morning they renewed -their fruitless efforts, getting farther and farther -astray, till at length they had sunk down -incapable of longer exertion, and unable to -stir from the spot where they were found.</p> - -<p>I conclude this letter with remarking, that -instead of the spring which I fondly anticipated, -we burst at once from dull gloomy -weather and melting snow, to burning hot -summer and clouds of mosquitoes and flies of -all kinds.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-6.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-s.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">Summer and mosquitoes! Inseparable -words in Canada, except -in the large towns, where their -attacks are hardly felt.</p> - -<p>In the Bush, the larger the clearing the -fewer the mosquitoes. It is, above all things, -desirable to avoid building a log-house near -swampy ground, for there they will be found -in abundance.</p> - -<p>We have four acres and a half quite clear, -but unfortunately our log-house, instead of -being placed in the middle, is at one end, -with a well-wooded hill and a portion of dense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -forest at the back and at one end; delicious -retreat for our enemies, from whence they -issued in myriads, tormenting us from morning -till night, and all night long.</p> - -<p>This Egyptian plague began in the end of -May, and lasted till the end of September. -We being new-comers they were virulent in -their attacks, and we were bitten from head -to foot; in a short time we felt more like -lepers than healthy, clean people, and the -want of sleep at night was most trying to -us all, after our hard work. Our only resource -was keeping large “smudges” continually -burning in pans. These “smudges” are made -of decayed wood, called “punk,” and smoulder -and smoke without flaming.</p> - -<p>When I went to bed at night (my only -time for reading) I used to turn a long trunk -end upwards close to my bolster, and place -a large pan of “punk” on it, so that myself -and my book were well enveloped in smoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -Many times in the night we had to renew our -pans, and from the first dawn of day the -buzzing of these hateful insects, who seem -then to acquire fresh liveliness, prevented all -chance of sleep. Nor were the mosquitoes -our only foes. Flies of all kinds swarmed -around us, and one in particular, the deer-fly, -was a long black fly frightful to look at, -from its size and ugliness. Still, as the flies -did not circle about in the air as the mosquitoes -did, we could better defend ourselves -against them.</p> - -<p>We derived little or no benefit from the -numerous remedies recommended by different -settlers. In one only I found some -alleviation—a weak solution of carbolic acid, -which certainly deadened the irritation, and -was at least a clean remedy compared with -the “fly-oil” with which most of the settlers -besmear themselves unsparingly.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of June I entered upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -an entirely new phase of Bush-life, which was -anything but pleasant to a person of a nervous, -susceptible temperament. This was my being -in perfect solitude for many hours of every -day. Your sister-in-law expected her first -confinement, and we were so anxious that -she should have proper medical advice, that -it was thought advisable to place her in -lodgings at B——e till the important event -took place. Her brother coming to pay her -a visit entirely agreed in the necessity of the -case, and as he kindly smoothed away the -money difficulty it was carried into execution. -She could not go alone, and therefore your -eldest sister accompanied her, and thus I lost -for a time my constant and only companion.</p> - -<p>I undertook now to keep house for both -your brothers, as in his wife’s absence Charles -could have little comfort at home. I only saw -them at meal-times, and though your eldest -brother came home always before dusk, yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -I could not but be very nervous at being so -much alone.</p> - -<p>The weather became so hot, that the stove -was moved into the open air at the back of -the house, and to save me fatigue your -brother cut a doorway at the back, close to -where the stove was placed. Unfortunately -there was a great press of work at this time, -and moreover no lumber on the premises, and -therefore no door could be made, and the -aperture, which I had nothing large enough -to block up, remained all the summer, to my -great discomfiture.</p> - -<p>At first I was not so very solitary, for a -settler’s daughter, who had worked for your -sister-in-law, came to me three times a week, -and went on the alternate days to your sister -F——e. We liked her very well, were very -kind to her, and under our training she was -learning to be quite a good servant, when an -incident occurred which occasioned our dismissing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -her, which gave me great pain, and -which has never been cleared up to my satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Our poor dog Nero, who was an excellent -guard, and quite a companion, was taken -ill, and we fancied that he had been bitten -by a snake in Charles’ beaver meadow, where -he had been with your brothers who were -hay-making. We nursed him most tenderly, -you may be sure, but he got worse and worse -suffered agonies, and in less than a week I -was obliged to consent to our old favourite -dog being shot. He was taken from my bed -well wrapped up, so that he knew nothing of -what was coming, while I walked far away -into the wood, and your brother with one -shot put the faithful animal out of his pain. -Two days before he died a large piece of -poisoned meat was found near the pathway -of our clearing, and as from before the time -of his being ill no one but this servant girl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -had gone backwards and forwards, as her -father had a kind of grudge against your -brother for driving his cattle off the premises, -and as she never expressed the slightest sympathy -for the poor beast, but seemed quite -pleased when he was dead, we could not but -fear that she had been made the medium of -killing him. We found that he had been -poisoned with blue vitriol, but we knew this -too late to save him.</p> - -<p>We buried him honourably, and I planted -a circle of wild violets round his grave, and -was not ashamed to shed many tears besides, -which was a well-deserved tribute to our old -and faithful <em>friend</em>.</p> - -<p>After the girl was dismissed I found more -than enough of occupation, for though your -brother made and baked the bread, which I -was not strong enough to do, yet I cooked, -washed for them, and did the house-work, -which I found sufficiently fatiguing, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -very glad after dinner to sit down to my -writing-table, which I took good care to -place so as to face the open door, never feeling -safe to have it at my back.</p> - -<p>Your dear sister F. was so kind, that at -great inconvenience to herself, on account of -the heat and the flies in the forest, she managed -to come nearly every day at four p.m. -with the children, and remained till your -brother came back for the night.</p> - -<p>He was occupied for many weeks in making -hay with your brother and brother-in-law -in the beaver meadow, a large one and very -productive. They make a great deal of hay, -and put it up in large cocks, but a great -deal of it was lost by rotting on the ground, -from not being carried away in proper time. -The delay was occasioned by none of us having -oxen of our own, and from not having the -means of hiring till the season was passed.</p> - -<p>The not getting money at the proper epochs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -for work is the greatest drawback to the new -settler. If it comes too soon it is apt to melt -away in the necessities of daily life; if it -comes too late he must wait for another year.</p> - -<p>I fully realised during this summer, that -solitude in the Bush is not privacy. Though -in case of any accident I was out of reach of -all human help, yet I was liable at any moment -of the day to have some passing settler -walk coolly in, and sit down in my very chair -if I had vacated it for a moment. I got one -fright which I shall not easily forget. I had -given your two brothers their breakfast, and -they had started for their hay-making in the -distant beaver meadow. I had washed up -the breakfast-things, cleared everything away, -and was arranging my hair in the glass hanging -in the bed-place, the curtain of which was -undrawn on account of the heat. My parting -look in the glass disclosed a not very prepossessing -face in the doorway behind, belonging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -to a man who stood there immovable as a -statue, and evidently enjoying my discomfiture.</p> - -<p>I greeted him with a scream, which was -almost a yell, and advanced pale as a ghost, -having the agreeable sensation of all the -blood in my body running down to my toes! -His salutation was:</p> - -<p>“Wall, I guess I’ve skeered you some!”</p> - -<p>“Yes!” I replied, “you startled me very -much.”</p> - -<p>He then came in and sat down. I sat -down too, and we fell into quite an easy flow -of talk about the weather, the crops, etc.</p> - -<p>How devoutly I wished him anywhere else, -and how ill I felt after my fright, I need not -say, but I flatter myself that nothing of this -appeared on the surface; all was courtesy and -politeness.</p> - -<p>At length he went way, and finding your -brother in the beaver meadow, took care to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -inform him that he “had had quite a pleasant -chat with his old woman!”</p> - -<p>I knew this man by sight, for once in the -early part of the summer he came to inquire -where Charles lived? On my pointing out -the path, and saying in my politest manner,</p> - -<p>“You will have no difficulty, sir, in finding -Mr. C. K.’s clearing,” he coolly replied:</p> - -<p>“I guess I shall find it; I knows your son -well; <em>we always calls him Charlie</em>!”</p> - -<p>I had visitors during the summer, who were -much more welcome. Two nice intelligent -little boys with bare feet and shining faces, -the children of an American from the -“States,” settled in the Muskoka Road, used -to come twice a week with milk, eggs, and -baskets of the delicious wild raspberry at five -cents a quart. While they were resting and -refreshing themselves with cold tea and -bread-and-butter we used to have quite pleasant -conversations. They were very confidential,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -told me how anxiously they were -expecting a grandmother, of whom they were -very fond, and who was coming to live with -them; of their progress and prizes in the -Sunday-school some miles from here, which -they regularly attended; of their garden and -of many other little family matters; and when -I gave them some story-books for children, -and little tracts, they informed me that they -would be kept for Sunday reading. They -never failed, with the things they brought for -sale, to bring me as a present a bunch of beautiful -sweet-peas and mignonette, and occasionally -a scarlet gladiolus.</p> - -<p>When they were gone I used to sit down -to my letter-writing; and after all my grubbing -and house-work, I felt quite elevated in the -social scale to have a beautiful bouquet on my -writing-table, which I took care to arrange -with a background of delicate fern leaves and -dark, slender sprigs of the ground-hemlock.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -The very smell of the flowers reminded me -of my beloved transatlantic home, with its -wealth of beautiful plants and flowering -shrubs, and every room decorated with vases -of lovely flowers which I passed some delicious -morning hours in collecting and -arranging.</p> - -<p>When the fruit season had passed, I lost -my little visitors, but was painfully reminded -of them at the beginning of the winter. -Your brother-in-law was called upon, in the -absence of the clergyman, to read the burial -service over an old lady who had died suddenly -in the settlement. This was the -grandmother of my poor little friends. She -had always expressed a wish to spend her -last days with her daughter in Muskoka, but -put off her journey from the “States” till -the weather was so severe that she suffered -much while travelling, and arrived with a -very bad cold. The second morning after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -her arrival she was found dead in her -bed.</p> - -<p>I remained all the summer strictly a -prisoner at home. The not being able to -shut up the log-house for want of the second -door of course prevented my leaving home, -even for an hour; for the Bush is not -Arcadia, and however primitive the manners -and customs may be, I have failed to recognise -primitive innocence among its inhabitants.</p> - -<p>As to the berry-picking, which is the -favourite summer amusement here, I would -sooner have gone without fruit than have -ventured into the swamps and beaver meadows, -where the raspberries, huckleberries, -and cranberries abound. My fear of snakes -was too overpowering. Charles killed this -summer no less than seven; and though we -are told that in this part of Canada they are -perfectly innocuous, yet your brother pointed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -out that three out of the seven he killed had -the flat conformation of head which betokens -a venomous species.</p> - -<p>In the meantime our news from B——e -was not too good. After a residence in the -lodgings of five weeks, your sister-in-law had -been confined of a dear little boy, and at first -all had gone well, but after a week she became -very ill, and also the baby; and as he -had to be brought up by hand, and there was -great difficulty in getting pure, unmixed milk -in B——e, it was thought better, when he -was five weeks old, to bring the whole party -back. That memorable journey must be reserved -for another letter.</p> - -<p>I noticed this summer many times the -curious appearance of our clearing by moonlight. -In the day the stumps stood out in all -their naked deformity, as we had no “crops -of golden grain” to hide them; but at night -I never beheld anything more weird and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -ghostly. The trees being mostly chopped in -the winter, with deep snow on the ground, -the stumps are left quite tall, varying from -five to seven feet in height. When these are -blackened by the burning, which runs all -over the clearing, they present in the dim -light the appearance of so many spectres. I -could almost fancy myself in the cemetery in -the Dunkirk Road, near Calais, and that the -blackened stumps were hideous black crosses -which the French are so fond of erecting in -their churchyards.</p> - -<p>They have in America a machine called a -“stump-extractor;” but this is very expensive. -By the decay of nature, it is possible, -in two or three years, to drag out the stumps -of trees with oxen; but the pine stumps -never decay under seven or eight years, and -during all that time are a perpetual blot on -the beauty of the landscape.</p> - -<p>I was much interested in a sight, novel to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -me, namely, the fire-flies flitting about in the -tops of the tall trees. They seemed like so many -glittering stars, moving so fast that the sight -became quite dazzled. In the cold weather, -too, the aurora borealis is most beautiful; -and it is well worth being a little chilly to -stand out and watch the soft tints melting -one into the other, and slowly vanishing -away. But for these occasional glimpses of -beauty and sublimity, I should indeed have -found existence in the Bush intolerably -prosaic.</p> - -<p>I very much missed the flocks of birds I -was accustomed to in Europe; but as I -always forbade any gun being fired off in -my clearing, I soon made acquaintance with -some. It was a treat to me to watch two -audacious woodpeckers, who would come and -nibble at my stumps, and let me stand within -a few feet of them without the least fear. -There was also a pretty snow-bird, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -knew me so well that it would wait till I -threw out crumbs and bits of potato for it; -and once, when we had some meat hanging -in a bag on the side of the house, which your -brother tied up tightly to prevent depredation, -this sagacious creature perched on the -shed near, and actually looked me into untying -the bag, and pulling partly out a piece -of the pork, upon which it set to work with -such goodwill, that in a few days some -ounces of fat had disappeared.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-8.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-a.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">All journeys to and from the Bush -are prosecuted under such difficulties, -that it is very fortunate -they are few and far between. Indeed, few -of the better class of settlers would remain, -but for the near prospect of Government -granting roads in the township, and the -more distant one of the different companies -for buying the pine-wood bridging over the -deep gullies on the lots to facilitate their -taking away the timber. When one of the -expectant members for Muskoka paid us, in -the course of the summer, an election visit,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -this was the point on which we mainly -insisted. Our courteous visitor promised -everything; but as his subsequent election -was declared null and void, we have as yet -reaped no benefit from his promises.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of August, I was compelled -to pay my half-yearly visit to B——e, -for the purpose of getting my pension-lists -signed and duly forwarded. Your brother -likewise had to take in two settlers in the -vicinity, to swear off some land before taking -it up. At first we thought of making -our way to the post-office, three miles off, -and from thence taking places in the mail-cart; -but as we had to take in our settlers, -and to pay all their expenses to and from -B——e, your brother thought it best to send -to the town for a wagon and team expressly -for ourselves. This arrived; but, alas! in -the afternoon instead of the morning, which -had been specially mentioned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - -<p>On this day we fully proved the glorious -uncertainty of the Canadian climate. The -morning had been lovely, but towards three -p.m. a soft, drizzling rain began to fall, -which increased in volume and power till it -became a drenching torrent.</p> - -<p>Your brother-in-law took charge of me, -and assisted me in scrambling over the different -gullies; but by the time I considered -it safe to get into the wagon, I was already -wet through. The horses were so tired, -having come from a distant journey, that we -travelled very slowly, and it was dark when -we drew up at the half-way house, where -we were to have tea and to rest the poor -animals. Here we remained for two hours; -and when we again started it was pitch dark, -with torrents of rain still falling, and the -addition of occasional peals of thunder and -flashes of lightning.</p> - -<p>I have heard and read much of the tropical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -rains of India and other southern countries, -but it would be impossible to imagine a more -persistent drenching than we got on this -unlucky afternoon. The whole eight miles -from the half-way house the horses could -only walk very slowly, the night being unusually -dark. We greatly need in this -country such a law as they have in France, -where it is enacted, under a heavy penalty, -that no carriage, cart, or wagon shall travel -after dark without carrying a good and sufficient -light to prevent dangerous collisions. -I should have been very nervous but for my -implicit faith in the sagacity of the horses, -and the great care of the driver, whom we -only knew under his sobriquet of “Canadian -Joe.” He was a quiet, careful man, a French -Canadian, who beguiled the way by singing -very sweetly, and with whom it was pleasant -to converse in the language we loved so well. -He took us safely into B——e, with the addition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -to our party of two travellers we overtook -on the road, and upon whom we had -compassion.</p> - -<p>When we got in, the hotel was about -closing for the night; the fires were out, and -the landlady had gone to bed ill; but the -master bestirred himself, showed me to a -comfortable bedroom, and made me some -negus, which your brother, himself wet to -the skin, soon brought me, and which at -least warmed me a little after so many hours -of exposure to cold and wet.</p> - -<p>The next morning, as soon as we could -get into thoroughly-dried clothes, we went -to see our invalids. Your poor sister-in-law -was still suffering much, but her dear baby -(a very minute specimen of humanity) was -improving, and, after more than two months’ -absence, I was thankful to see your sister -only looking very pale, and not, as I expected, -utterly worn out by her arduous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -duties and compulsory vigils and anxieties. -Your brother was obliged to return to the -Bush on Saturday; but I remained to come -home with your sister and sister-in-law the -next week.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, having been to the -magistrate’s office and transacted all our -business, I greatly enjoyed with your brother -walking about the neighbourhood. It was, -indeed, a treat to walk on a good road, and -to see signs of life and progress everywhere, -instead of the silent monotony of the forest.</p> - -<p>We noticed an amazing change for the -better in this “rising village of the Far West,” -which we had not seen for six months. The -hotels and stores seemed to have quadrupled -themselves, good frame-houses were springing -up in every direction, and a very pretty -little church, since opened for Church of -England service, was nearly finished. These -lumber-houses are very ugly at first, on account<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -of the yellow hue of the wood; but -this is soon toned down by exposure to the -weather, and climbing-plants and pretty -gardens soon alter their appearance, and -make them picturesque.</p> - -<p>The dull, primitive life of the Bush certainly -prepares one to be pleased with trifles. -I revelled like a child in the unwonted stir -and hum of life about me, and felt half -ashamed of the intense amusement I derived -from the lordly airs of an old gander, who -marshalled his flock of geese up and down -the road all day long. I felt quite angry -with a young man at the breakfast-table of -the hotel, who complained loudly that this -old gentleman’s cackling and hissing had -kept him awake all night. I too, in the intervals -of sleep, had heard the same sound, -but to me it was sweet music.</p> - -<p>On Sunday morning I had a treat for -which I was quite unprepared. The Rev.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -Morley Punshon, head of the Wesleyan -Methodist Church in Canada, came to -B——e, to lecture on the “Life and Writings -of Lord Macaulay.” On Sunday morning he -preached in the open air, to accommodate the -many who could not have found room in the -Wesleyan Chapel. A little secluded dell, -some distance from the main road, was -thoroughly cleared of wood and underbrush, -and rough benches were placed in profusion -for seats. I was astonished at the numbers -assembled—six hundred I was afterwards -told. After the benches were full, the hill-sides -were densely packed; and it was impossible -not to go back in thought to the -Scotch Covenanters and the heathery hills, -so often sprinkled with their blood. All here -was calm and peaceful; it was a lovely Sabbath -morning, the air indescribably balmy -and fragrant, the service very simple and -impressive, the singing singularly sweet, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -the discourse delivered by the gifted minister -full of fervid eloquence.</p> - -<p>He preached from Psalm xlii. 4. My -feelings nearly overcame me; it was the -very first time since I left England that I -had had the opportunity of publicly joining -in worship with my fellow-Christians; and it -appeared to me a matter of very small importance -that most of those present were -Wesleyans, while I was Church of England. -The lecture on “Macaulay” was duly delivered -the next day, and was much liked; -but I did not go, preferring to pass the time -with our poor invalid.</p> - -<p>On Tuesday, September 2nd, your brother -Charles came in and made arrangements to -take his wife, child, and your sister, back on -the following day. I made up my mind to -go back with them, and again we took care -to secure Canadian Joe and his team. It -was a perilous journey for one in so much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -physical suffering, but it was admirably -managed. We laid a soft mattress in the -bottom of the wagon, with plenty of pillows, -and on this we placed your sister-in-law with -the baby by her side. Charles sat with them -to keep all steady; your sister and I sat with -the driver. Canadian Joe surpassed himself -in the care he took of the invalid; every bad -piece of road he came to he walked his horses -quite softly, looking back at Charles with a -warning shake of the head, as much as to -say, “Take care of her now!”</p> - -<p>We travelled slowly, but by his great care -arrived safely, and at the cleared farm -nearest to mine we were met by your brother -and brother-in-law, who had skilfully arranged -a ship’s hammock on a pole, and -made of it a very tolerable palanquin. Into -this your sister-in-law was carefully lifted, -and two of the gentlemen carried her, the -third relieving them at intervals. They got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -her safely over all the gullies, and carried her -past my log-house to her own home, where -she was at once put to bed, and in a very -few days began to recover. Your sister and -I took charge of the dear little baby, and -after a most fatiguing walk and much -dangerous scrambling with such a precious -load, we got him safely here, where he has -remained our cherished nursling ever since, -and has thriven well. His dear young -mother, having quite recovered, comes every -day to be with her little treasure.</p> - -<p>We only just arrived in time; the rain -began again and continued for some days. -We had much trouble with the rain drifting -in through the clap-boards of the roof. -What would <i>Mr. Punch</i> have said could he -have seen two ladies in bed with a baby between -them, and a large umbrella fixed at the -head of the bed to save them from the roof-drippings!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<p>We had two visits this autumn from which -we derived much pleasure. One from our -old friend C. W., and one from a friend and -connection of your sister-in-law’s family, her -eldest brother having married one of his -sisters. H. L. was quite an addition to our -working party. More than six feet high, -strong and active, he fraternised at once with -your brothers, and cheerfully helped them in -their daily labours. Your brother hired a -team of oxen for some days, and had the remaining -trees lying in our clearing logged -up, and watched for the first fine dry day to -complete the burning begun in spring. Our -two young friends assisted him in his labours, -and they managed so well that the regular -day’s work was not interfered with. Every -evening they set fire to some of the log-heaps, -and diligently “branded” them up -till they were reduced to ashes. As we -could not admit our friends into the house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -after a certain hour in the evening, and as -their vigils extended far into the night, your -brother used to provide the party with -plenty of potatoes, which they roasted in the -ashes and ate with butter and salt, with a -large pot of coffee and an unlimited supply of -tobacco—they being all inveterate smokers. -As they had all fine voices and sang well -together, the gipsy party was not a dull one, -and the forest echoed with their favourite -songs. Fortunately there was no one in our -solitary neighbourhood to be disturbed from -their slumbers, and provided they did not -wake the baby, we rather enjoyed the unwonted -noise, knowing how much they were -enjoying themselves. Perhaps the most -amusing time of all was the Saturday afternoon, -when what we ladies called the “Jew -trading” invariably took place. I really -think that every article belonging to our -young men changed hands at these times,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -and the amusing manner in which the stores -of each were laid out for public admiration -and regularly haggled for, cannot be forgotten. -In this manner your eldest brother’s -celebrated chassepot gun, picked up on the field -of Sedan, gave place to a Colt’s revolver and -a small fowling-piece; his heavy gold seal (a -much-coveted article) took the more useful -form of corduroy trousers and heavy boots; -in like manner both your brothers gladly -bartered their fine dress shirts, and handkerchiefs, -and satin ties, for coarser garments -better fitted for the Bush, of which both C. -W. and H. L. had a good stock now quite -useless to them, as neither could make up -his mind to a Bush life. These amusing -transfers of property came to a close at last, -after some weeks of incessant trafficking, with -your brother’s solemnly asking my permission -to hand over to H. L., as a make-weight in -the scale, a large woollen comforter which I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -had knitted for him. Some of the bartering -went on at “Pioneer Cottage,” your brother -Charles’ place, a name most appropriately -given, as he was the first of our party in the -settlement. I called my log-house “Cedar -Lodge” at first, and headed some of my -letters to England with that elegant name, -understanding that I was the happy owner -of a number of cedar trees, but finding that -my riches in cedar consisted in a small -portion only of a dirty cedar-swamp, from -which not one tree fit for building could be -extracted, I dropped the grandiloquent nomenclature, -and simply put for heading to -my letters, “The Bush—Muskoka.”</p> - -<p>We felt quite dull when our friends left, -but they correspond with both your brothers, -and H. L. is not far from us, having married -and settled at Toronto.</p> - -<p>A very grave subject of consideration has -arisen among us on the subject of domestic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -servants. Should any providential improvement -in our circumstances take place, or our -farms become even moderately thriving, we -should certainly once more require these -social incumbrances, but where to find them -would be a question. Certainly not in the -settlement to which we belong. Not one of -the ladies in our three families has a special -vocation for cooking and house-tidying, -though all have done it since we came here -without complaint, and have done it well. -Indeed, a most respectable settler, who, with -other men and a team of oxen, was working -for some days on our land to help your -brother, remarked to his wife that he was -quite astonished that a young lady (meaning -your eldest sister), evidently unaccustomed -to hard work, could do so much and could do -it so well. He had noticed how comfortably -all the different meals had been prepared and -arranged. Your sister F——e too, in spite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -of the hindrance of three little children, has -always given great satisfaction to the workmen -employed by her husband. We should -of course hail the day when we could have -the help in all household matters we formerly -enjoyed; but we must surely seek for it at a -distance from here.</p> - -<p>The children of the settlers, both boys and -girls, know well that on attaining the age of -eighteen years, they can each claim and take -up from Government a free grant of one -hundred acres. They naturally feel their -incipient independence and their individual -interest in the country, and this makes them -less inclined to submit to the few restrictions -of servitude still sanctioned by common sense -and general observance. They serve their -temporary masters and mistresses under protest -as it were, and are most unwilling to -acknowledge their title to these obnoxious -names. They consider it their undoubted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -right to be on a footing of perfect equality -with every member of the family, and have -no inclination whatever to “sit below the -salt.”</p> - -<p>When your sister-in-law returned from -Bracebridge, her health was for some time -too delicate for her to do any hard work, and -we, having charge of the baby, could give her -no assistance. Your brother Charles looked -about the settlement for a respectable girl as -a servant. He found one in every way suitable, -about sixteen, and apparently healthy, -strong, willing, and tolerably competent. He -liked her appearance, and engaged her at the -wages she asked. She entered upon her -place, did her work well, and gave entire -satisfaction. Everything was done to make -her comfortable, even to the extent of giving -her the whole Sunday to herself, as she was -in the habit of attending the church some -miles off and also the Sunday-school. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -little more than a week she suddenly left, -assigning no reason but that she was “wanted -at home,” which we knew to be a falsehood, -as she had two or three sisters capable of -assisting her mother. We were greatly -puzzled to find out her true reason for -leaving. After a time it was made clear to -us by a trustworthy person who had it from -the family themselves. The young lady had -found it <em>intolerably dull</em>, and it was further -explained to us that no settler would allow -his daughter to be in service where she was -not allowed to sit at the same table with the -family, and to join freely in the conversation -at all times!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-9.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">I begin this letter with a few -observations in support of my oft-repeated -assertion that poor ladies -and gentlemen form the worst, or at least the -most unsuccessful, class for emigration to -Canada. I must give you a slight sketch -of the class of settlers we have here, and -of the conditions they must fulfil before -they can hope to be in easy circumstances, -much less in affluent ones. Of course I -am speaking of settlers from the “old -country,” and not of Canadians born who -sometimes find their way from the front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -to try their fortunes in the backwoods. The -settlers in this neighbourhood, for a circuit of -about eight miles, are all of the lower classes; -weavers from Scotland, agricultural labourers -from England, artisans and mechanics from -all parts. Whatever small sum of money -a family of this class can collect with a view -to emigration, very little of it is spent in -coming over. They are invariably steerage -passengers, and on landing at Quebec are -forwarded, free of all expense, and well provided -for on the road, by the Emigration -Society, to the part where they intend -settling. Say that they come to the free-grant -lands of Muskoka. The intending -settler goes before the commissioner of -crown-lands, and (if a single man) takes up -a lot of a hundred acres; if married and -with children, he can claim another lot as -“head of a family.” He finds the conditions -of his tenure specified on the paper he signs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -and sees that it will be five years before he -can have his patent, and then only if he has -cleared fifteen acres, and has likewise built -thereon a log-house of certain dimensions. -He pays some one a dollar to point out his -lot, and to take him over it, and then selecting -the best site, and with what assistance he -can get from his neighbours, he clears a small -patch of ground and builds a shanty. In the -meantime, if he have a wife and family they -are lodged and boarded for a very small sum -at some near neighbour’s. When he and his -family have taken possession, he underbrushes -and chops as much as he possibly can -before the winter sets in; but on the first -approach of the cold weather he starts for -the lumber-shanties, and engages himself to -work there, receiving from twenty to twenty-five -dollars a month and his food. Should he -be of any particular trade he goes to some large -town, and is tolerably sure of employment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is certainly a very hard and anxious life -for the wife and children, left to shift for -themselves throughout the long dreary -winter, too often on a very slender provision -of flour and potatoes and little else.</p> - -<p>When spring at last comes, the steady, -hard-working settler returns with quite a -little sum of money wherewith to commence -his own farming operations. One of the -most respectable and thriving settlers near -us is a man who began life as a sturdy -Kentish ploughboy. He is now an elderly -man with a very large family and a good -farm. He has thirty acres well cleared and -under cultivation, has thirteen head of cattle -and some fine pigs, has the best barn in the -place, and has just removed his family into a -large commodious plank house, with many -rooms and a very fine cellar, built entirely at -odd times by himself and his son, a steady, -clever lad of eighteen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<p>This man for several years has gone at the -beginning of the winter to one of the hotels -in Bracebridge, where he acts as “stable-boy,” -and makes a great deal of money -besides his food, which, in such a place, is -of the best. He could very well now remain -at home, and reap the reward of his thrift -and industry, but prefers going on for a year -or two longer, while he still has health and -strength.</p> - -<p>Now it is obvious that ladies and gentlemen -have not, and cannot have these advantages. -The ladies of a family cannot be -left unprotected during the long winter, and -indeed are, for the most part, physically incapable -of chopping fire-wood, drawing water, -and doing other hard outdoor work; I speak -particularly of <em>poor</em> ladies and gentlemen. -Should people of ample means <em>choose</em> to encounter -the inevitable privations of the -Bush, there are of course few which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -cannot be at least alleviated by a judicious -expenditure of money.</p> - -<p>It may well be asked here, who is there -with <em>ample means</em> who would dream of -coming to Muskoka? I answer boldly, none -but those who are entirely ignorant of the -miseries of Bush life, or those who have -been purposely misled by designing and interested -people.</p> - -<p>Here the settlers’ wives and daughters -work almost as hard as their husbands -and fathers—log, burn, plant, and dig; -and, in some instances, with the work -adopt the habits of men, and smoke and -chew tobacco to a considerable extent. -This, I am happy to say, is not the case -with all, nor even, I hope, with the majority; -but nearly all the women, long before attaining -middle age, look prematurely worn -and faded, and many of the settlers themselves -bear in their faces the unmistakable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -signs of hard work, scanty food, and a perpetual -struggle for existence.</p> - -<p>I have not yet mentioned the subject of -wild beasts, but I may truly say that ever -since I came out here, they have been a complete -bugbear to me, and my dread of them -is still unconquerable. I have been much -laughed at for my fears, but as it is well-known -that there <em>are</em> wild animals in the -recesses of these woods, and as they do -sometimes show themselves without being -sought for, I cannot consider my fears -groundless.</p> - -<p>I have been told by one settler, who has -been here for many years, and has often -“camped out” all night in the woods, that -he has never seen anything “worse than -himself;” but another settler, the trapper -mentioned in a former letter, kills some wild -animals every year, and two or three times -he has been met going over our lots in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -search of some bear or lynx which had escaped -him.</p> - -<p>We are told that when the clearings are -larger, and more animals kept, especially -pigs, that our visits from Bruin at least -will be more frequent; and since your -brother Charles, some months ago, got two -fine pigs, he has repeatedly found bear-tracks -in his beaver meadow, and even close -up to the fence of his clearing. To say the -least of it, the pleasure of a solitary walk is -greatly impaired by the vague terror of a -stray bear confronting you on the pathway, -or of a spiteful lynx dropping down upon -your shoulders from the branch of a tree.</p> - -<p>The morning before H. L. left us for -Toronto, he went to the post-office, but -before he got to the end of our clearing, he -saw at some distance a grey animal, which -at first he took to be a neighbour’s dog; long -before he got up to it, it cleared the fence at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -one bound, and vanished into the Bush. -He thought this odd, but went on; returning -in the twilight he was greatly astonished to -see the same animal again in the clearing, -and this time he might have had a good shot -at it, but unfortunately he was encumbered -with a can of milk, which he had good-naturedly -brought for me, and before he -could bring his gun to bear upon it, the -creature was again in the depths of the -Bush.</p> - -<p>Much conversation ensued about it; some -thought it must have been a chance wolf, but -Charles, whose opinion we all looked to, was -more inclined to the idea of its being a grey -fox; he hardly thought that any other wild -animal would have come so fearlessly into -the clearing.</p> - -<p>H. L. went to Toronto, and in a few days -your brother received a letter from him -saying that he had just seen a lynx newly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -killed which had been brought into the town, -and that in colour, shape, and size, it exactly -resembled the animal he had seen in my -clearing. It has since been supposed that -this might be the lynx the trapper said he -was tracking when he passed near here in -the spring.</p> - -<p>I have often spoken of the broad deep -gully at the end of my lot near the “concession” -road. We had an old negro located -on the strip of land between for more than -five weeks. One fearfully cold day last -winter, during a heavy snow-storm, your -brother Charles came upon the poor old man -“camping” for the night on the road near -here. He talked to him a little, gave him -all the small change he happened to have -about him, and coming home and telling us, -we made a small collection, which with a loaf -of bread, he took to the old man next morning -before he went away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>Before the close of this autumn, Charles -again met his old acquaintance, looking more -ragged and feeble than ever. He had with -him only his axe and a small bundle. He -said that he was making his way to a lot -which he had taken up eight miles off, where -he was going to locate himself and remain. -He spoke too of having friends in the front -who would give him some assistance, and at -least send him some flour.</p> - -<p>Again he camped out for the night, and -we held a family consultation about him. -Your brothers proposed going with him to -his lot, and helping him to build his shanty. -They talked of taking provisions and being -out for some days. They also spoke of -taking him food twice a week during the -winter for fear he should starve, as he -complained that his neighbours were very -unkind to him, and did not want him located -among them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>We all loudly protested against this plan -as being altogether quixotic, and reminded -them that to carry out their plan they must -periodically neglect their own work, leave us -alone, and run the risk of being often -weather-bound, thus causing injury to their -own health, and much alarm to us. We -suggested an expedient, to let poor Jake -settle himself near my gully for the winter; -your brothers to build him a shanty there, -and to take him every day sufficient warm -food to make him comfortable. Charles -promised to join with us in giving him so -much bread and potatoes every week. I -paid one visit to the old negro, whom I -found dirty, and with only one eye, yet not -at all repulsive-looking, as he had a very -pleasant countenance, and talked well and -intelligently.</p> - -<p>He agreed to our plan, and your brothers -soon raised the logs of a good shanty, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -till it was completed he built himself a wigwam, -Indian fashion, which he made very -warm and comfortable. We told him also -that if he liked to make a small clearing -round his shanty, we would pay him for his -chopping when he left. The winter soon -came, and the snow began to fall. The -first very frosty night made us anxious -about our old pensioner, and your brother -went to him early the next morning with a -can of hot tea for his breakfast. What was -his astonishment when he crossed the gully -to hear loud voices in Jake’s little encampment.</p> - -<p>On reaching it he asked the old man who -was with him. He significantly pointed to -the wigwam, from which a woman’s voice -called out:</p> - -<p>“Yes! I’m here, and I’ve got the hagur!” -(ague).</p> - -<p>A few minutes afterwards the owner of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -the voice issued from the hut, in the person -of a stout, bold-looking, middle-aged woman, -(white), who evidently considered old Jake, -his shanty, his wigwam, and all his effects, -as her own undoubted property. We found -that this was the “Mary” of whom Jake -had spoken as being the person with whom -he had boarded and lodged in the front, and -who had found him out here. In the course -of the day both your brothers paid the old -man a visit, and signified to him that it -would be as well if he and his companion -took their departure, as we knew he was not -married to her, and we had a wholesome -dread of five children, whom Jake had incidentally -mentioned, following in the wake of -their mother.</p> - -<p>We gave them leave, however, to remain -till the Monday following, as we did not -wish to drive any one out precipitately who -was suffering from the “hagur.” Till they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -went, we supplied them with provisions. -On the following Monday they departed. -Your brothers gave poor Jake two dollars -for the little bit of chopping he had done, -and we gave him some bread, coffee, and -potatoes, as provisions for his journey. -Your brothers saw him and Mary off with -all their bundles, and returned home, leaving -my gully as silent and solitary as ever.</p> - -<p>We heard afterwards that Jake did not go -to his own lot, as he seemed to intend, but -was seen with his companion making his way -to the main road out of the Bush. A settler -overtook them, and told us they were -quarrelling violently for the possession of a -warm quilted French counterpane, which we -had lent to old Jake to keep him warm in -his wigwam, and had allowed him to take -away.</p> - -<p>We were disappointed this year in not -having a visit from the old colporteur of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -Parry’s Sound. He came last year during -a heavy storm of snow, with a large pack of -cheap Bibles and Testaments, and told us he -was an agent for the Wesleyan Society, and -had orders to distribute gratis where there -was really no means of paying. In answer -to some remark of mine, he said that “the -Bible must always follow the axe.”</p> - -<p>I recognised more than ever, how, by the -meanest and weakest instruments, God -works out His mighty designs. This poor -man was verging towards the decline of life; -had a hollow cough, and was in frame very -feeble and fragile, yet he was full of zeal, -travelled incessantly, and dispensed numbers -of copies of the Word of God as he passed -from settlement to settlement. I bought -two New Testaments for eight cents each, -well printed, and strongly bound.</p> - -<p>I am at work occasionally at my pleasant -task of recording Bush reminiscences. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -labours have at least kept me from vain and -fruitless regrets and repinings.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="it">Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch’entrate!</i>” -How often have I repeated these dismal -words to myself since I came into the Bush, -and felt them to be the knell of hope and -happiness! But time flies whether in joy or -sorrow. We are now in the middle of our -second winter, those dreadful winters of close -imprisonment, which last for nearly seven -months, and which your sister and I both -agree, form the severest trial of Bush life. -My aspirations, in former years, were manifold; -but were I asked now what were the -three absolute essentials for human happiness, -I should be tempted to reply, “Roads -to walk upon, a church to worship in, and a -doctor within reach in case of necessity!” -All these are wanting in the Bush; but as -we have incessant daily occupation, an extensive -correspondence, and as providentially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -we brought out all our stock of cherished -books, we manage to live on without too -much complaining.</p> - -<p>Your brother Charles is doing pretty well, -and hopes to bring his few animals safely -through the winter. Your brother-in-law -also is making progress, and is expecting -from England a partner (a young relation of -his own) whose coming will probably insure -him success. We remain just as we were, -striving, struggling, and hoping against -hope, that success may yet crown our endeavours. -Our farm stock is easily counted, -and easily taken care of: your brother’s dog, -with three very fat puppies; my pretty cat -“Tibbs,” with her little son “Hodge,” and -a magnificent tom puss, whose real home is -at “Pioneer Cottage,” but who, being of -social habits and having a general invitation, -does me the honour to eat, drink, and -sleep here.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<p>My sketches of Bush life are an occupation -and an amusement to me, but I can truly -say that they very faintly portray our sufferings -and our privations.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="PART_II"> -<img src="images/header-part2.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger">LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY.</p> - -<p class="center">Part II.</p> - -<p class="center">WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTERWARDS.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> -<img src="images/footer-part2.jpg" width="250" height="80" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-9.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2>LETTERS FROM AN EMIGRANT LADY.<br /> -<span class="smaller">PART II.</span></h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">In my former letters I spoke in a -tone of mingled hope and fear -as to the result of our efforts -to make Bush-farming succeed without -capital, and without even the means of -living comfortably while trying the experiment.</p> - -<p>It is needless to say to those who know -anything of Muskoka, that the misgivings -were fully realised, and the hopes proved -mere delusions, and melted away imperceptibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -as those airy fabrics too often do. We -were certainly much deceived by the accounts -given of Muskoka; after a four years’ residence -I am inclined to think that from the -very first the capabilities of its soil for agricultural -purposes have been greatly exaggerated.</p> - -<p>It will require years of extensive clearing, -and constant amelioration of the land by -means of manure and other applications, -before it will be capable of bearing heavy -grain crops; it is a poor and hungry soil, -light and friable, mostly red sandstone loam -and if a settler chances to find on his lot a -small patch of heavy clay loam fit for raising -wheat, the jubilant fuss that is made over it -shows that it is not a common character of -the soil.</p> - -<p>The only crops at all reliable are oats -and potatoes, and even these are subject -to be injured by the frequent summer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -droughts and by the clouds of grasshoppers -which occasionally sweep over Muskoka like -an Egyptian plague.</p> - -<p>For years to come the hard woods on a -settler’s lot will be his most valuable source -of profit; and as the railroad advances nearer -and nearer, the demand for these woods for -the lumber market will greatly increase.</p> - -<p>But to return to our domestic history. The -autumn of 1873 saw the first breaking-up of -our little colony in the final departure from -the Bush of my dear child, Mrs. C——, and -her young family. My son-in-law, Mr. C——, -soon found his Bush-farming as wearisome and -unprofitable as we did ourselves. Having -formerly taken his degree of B.A. at St. -John’s College, Cambridge, and his wishes -having long tended to the Church as -a profession, nothing stood between him -and ordination but a little reading up in -classics and theology, which he accomplished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -with the assistance of his kind friend the -Church of England clergyman at Bracebridge.</p> - -<p>He was ordained by the Bishop of Toronto -in October, 1873, and was at once appointed -to a distant parish. The final parting was -most painful, but it was so obviously for the -good of the dear ones leaving us that we -tried to repress all selfish regrets, and I, in -particular, heartily thanked God that even a -portion of the family had escaped from the -miseries of Bush-life.</p> - -<p>Our small community being so greatly -lessened in number, the monotony of our -lives was perceptibly increased. None but -those who have experienced it can ever -realise the utter weariness and isolation of -Bush-life. The daily recurrence of the same -laborious tasks, the want of time for mental -culture, the absence of congenial intercourse -with one’s fellow-creatures, the many hours of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -unavoidable solitude, the dreary unbroken -silence of the immense forest which closes -round the small clearings like a belt of iron; -all these things ere long press down the most -buoyant spirit, and superinduce a kind of -dull despair, from which I have suffered for -months at a time.</p> - -<p>In conversation once with my daughter-in-law, -who was often unavoidably alone for the -whole day, we mutually agreed that there -were times when the sense of loneliness became -so dreadful, that had a bear jumped in -at the window, or the house taken fire, or a -hurricane blown down the farm buildings, we -should have been tempted to rejoice and to -hail the excitement as a boon.</p> - -<p>And yet, strange as it may appear, I -dreaded above all things visits from our -neighbours. It is true they seldom came, -but when they did, every one of them would -have considered it a want of kindness not to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -prolong their visit for many hours. Harassed -as I was with never ceasing anxiety, and -much occupied with my correspondence and -other writing, I found such visits an intolerable -nuisance, particularly as after a little -friendly talk about household matters, knitting, -etc., where we met as it were on common -ground, there was invariably a prolonged -silence, which it required frantic efforts on my -part to break, so as to prevent my guests -feeling awkward and uncomfortable. On -these occasions I was generally left with -a nervous headache which lasted me for -days.</p> - -<p>One well-meaning, but especially noisy and -vulgar individual was a continual terror to me. -She more than once said to my eldest son:</p> - -<p>“Your pore ma must be that lonesome and -dull, that if it warn’t for the children I would -often go and cheer her up a bit.”</p> - -<p>My dear boy did his best to save his “pore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -ma” from such an infliction, and was thankful -that the children presented an obstacle which -fortunately for me was never got over.</p> - -<p>In my estimation of the merits and agreeable -conversation of our neighbours I made -one great exception. Our nearest neighbour -was an intelligent, well-conducted Englishman, -who lived a lonely bachelor life, which -in his rare intervals of rest from hard work -he greatly solaced by reading. We lent him -all our best books and English newspapers, -and should have been glad to see him oftener, -but he was so afraid of intruding that he seldom -came except to return or change his -books; at such times we had much really -pleasant conversation, and often a stirring -discussion on some public topic of the day, -or it might be a particular reign in Cassell’s -“English History,” or one of Shakespeare’s -plays, both of which voluminous works he -was reading through.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<p>He had been head clerk in a large shop in -Yorkshire, and was slightly democratic in his -opinions, my tendencies being in the opposite -direction; we just differed sufficiently to prevent -conversation being dull. A more intelligent, -hard-working, abstemious and trustworthy -man I have seldom known, and we -got to consider him quite in the light of a -friend. For three winters, whether we had -much or little, Mr. A——g was our honoured -guest on Christmas Day.</p> - -<p>One great solace of our lives was the number -of letters we received from the “old -country,” but even these were at times the -cause of slight annoyance to my ever-sensitive -feelings. All my dear friends and relations, -after warm condolences on the disappointments -we at first met with, would persist in assuring -me that the <em>worst</em> being over, we were sure -to gain ground, and meet with more success -for the future. From whence they gathered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -their consolatory hopes on our behalf it is -impossible for me to say, certainly not from -my letters home, which, in spite of all my -efforts, invariably fell into a melancholy, not -to say a grumbling tone. <em>I</em> knew too well -that, however bad things might be, the <em>worst</em> -was yet to come, and with a pardonable exaggeration -of feeling under peculiar circumstances, -often said to myself:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“And in the lowest deep, a lower deep,</div> -<div class="verse">Still threatening to devour me, opens wide.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The autumn and winter of 1873 passed -away with no more remarkable event than -our first patch of fall wheat being sown, from -which, in a burst of temporary enthusiasm, -we actually expected to have sufficient flour -for the wants of at least <em>one</em> winter. 1874 -having dawned upon us, we by no means -slackened in our efforts to improve the land -and make it profitable; but we found that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -although our expenses increased, our means -did not. The more land we cleared, the -more the want of money became apparent to -crop and cultivate it, the labour of one individual -being quite insufficient for the purpose.</p> - -<p>To remedy this want, my son resolved to -do what was a common practice in the settlement—go -out to work for his neighbours, -receiving from them return work, instead of -any other payment. Our only difficulty in -this matter was the having to provide sufficient -food, even of the plainest kind, for -hungry men engaged in logging; but even -this we managed during the first half of -the year. 1874 seemed to be a year of -general want in our settlement; for when -my son came home from his day of outside -toil, our usual question was, “Well, -dear, what did you have for dinner?” To -which the reply mostly was, “Oh!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -bread-and-treacle and tea,” or “porridge and potatoes,” -etc. And this in the houses of the -better class of settlers, who were noted for -putting the best they had before any neighbours -working for them. In fact, there was -so little of the circulating medium in the -place, that all buying and selling was conducted -in the most primitive style of barter. -A settler having hay, corn, or cattle to sell, -was obliged to take other commodities in -exchange; and more than once, when we -wanted some indispensable work done, my -son, finding that we could in no way provide -a money payment, would look over his tools -or farm implements, and sometimes even his -clothes, and part with whatever could possibly -be spared.</p> - -<p>I have mentioned our fall wheat sown in -the autumn of 1873. Alas for all human -expectations! The crop was pronounced to -be a magnificent one by experienced judges;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -but when it came to be threshed, every grain -was found to be wizened, shrivelled, and discoloured, -and fit for nothing but to feed -poultry. The crop had been winter-killed; -that is, frozen and thawed so often before the -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 ever done; and had even long spells -of hunger and want, which I trust have prepared -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.</p> - -<p>Had it not been for the exceeding kindness -of our friendly lawyer in London, and of a -very dear friend of my early years (himself a -lawyer), who sent us occasional assistance, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -must have sunk under our wants and miseries. -I did my very best to keep the “wolf -from the door” by my literary efforts, and -met with much kindness and consideration; -but after unceasing industry, long continued, -got to know that a few articles inserted at -intervals in a fashionable American magazine, -however much they might be liked and -approved of, would do but little towards relieving -the wants of a family. I became at -last quite discouraged; for so much material -was rejected and returned upon my hands, -that I was fain to conclude that some frightful -spell of dulness had fallen upon my once -lively pen.</p> - -<p>The work of this year appeared to us all -to be harder than ever, and my eldest son’s -health and strength were evidently on the -decline. It is true that nearly every day he -did the work of two men, as, in addition to -the cultivation of the land, he had to chop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -all the fire-wood for daily use, to draw the -water, and to do various jobs more or less -fatiguing to insure anything 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 stage -as the lean apothecary in “Romeo and -Juliet.”</p> - -<p>It was with scarcely-suppressed anguish -that, night after night, we saw him so -fatigued and worn-out as to be hardly able -to perform his customary ablutions and toilet -before sitting down to the reading and writing -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -higher pursuits than Bush-farming. Both -my sons at times worked for and with each -other, which was a most pleasant arrangement.</p> - -<p>At this time my youngest son was going -through, on his own farm, the same struggles -as ourselves, and was, I am bound to say, in -every respect as hard-working and energetic -as his elder brother. His family was fast increasing, -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 thankful -to accept the situation of schoolmaster -at Allunsville, which added forty pounds a -year to his slender means.</p> - -<p>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 oxen with -them, we had half an hour of the delicious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -excitement of which my daughter-in-law and -myself had talked so calmly some time before.</p> - -<p>It was a bright sunny day, and my -daughter and myself were busily engaged -in cooking a substantial dinner for our working -party, when, chancing to look up, my -daughter exclaimed, “Mamma, is that sunlight -or fire shining through the roof?” I -ran out directly, and saw that the shingles -below the chimney were well alight and -beginning to blaze up. Calling to my -daughter in passing, I flew to the end of -the house and screamed out “Fire! fire!” in -a voice which, my sons afterwards laughingly -assured me, must have been heard at the -post-office, three miles off. It had the immediate -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - -<p>My two sons, both as active as monkeys, -were immediately on the roof; one with an -axe, to cut away the burning shingles; the -other with water, handed up by men, to keep -the fire from spreading. 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.</p> - -<p>In the summer of this year I went to -Bracebridge, on a visit to my daughter, 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.</p> - -<p>When I left the Bush to go into Bracebridge, -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -leaving for England. I had made great -exertions to get from my kind lawyer and a -friend an advance of sufficient money to take -one of us back to the dear “old country,” -and all agreed that I should go first, being -well aware that my personal solicitations -would soon secure the means of bringing -back my eldest son and daughter, who, being -the only unmarried ones of the family, were -my constant companions.</p> - -<p>Having, unfortunately for my plans, but -quite unavoidably, made use of part of the -money to leave things tolerably comfortable -in the Bush, I waited anxiously till the -deficit could be made up, which I fully hoped -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 publication -if approved of. What was my distress -at receiving the manuscript back, with this -observation appended to it: “The work is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -too English, local, and special, to be acceptable -on this side of the Atlantic”! -Other articles intended for the magazine I -sometimes wrote for were also returned upon -my hands about the same time. I draw a -veil over my feelings, and will only say that -disappointment, anxiety, suspense, and the -burning heat of the weather gave me a very -severe attack of illness, which frightened my -dear child Mrs. C. most dreadfully, and left -me so weak, feeble, and completely crushed, -that I was thankful to send for my 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -lochs, eight miles off, where he had taken a -job of work, and we therefore felt pretty sure -that he could not pay us his customary -Christmas visit. We felt almost thankful, -much as we liked him; for we had been -literally without a cent for two months, and -all our provision for Christmas festivities -consisted in plenty of potatoes and a small -modicum of flour.</p> - -<p>But we were not to escape the humiliation -of having nothing to put before our invited -guest. Long after dark a well-known knock -at the door announced Mr. A——g, who -came for the key of his house, of which we -always had the charge, and who had walked -the whole way from the lochs to keep his -tryst with us, over roads deep in snow and -quite dangerous from snow-drifts at either -side, which were so many pitfalls for unwary -travellers. He came in, and we made him -directly some hot tea—a welcome refreshment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -after his cold and fatiguing tramp of -six hours.</p> - -<p>When he was gone, we held a committee -of ways and means; but as nothing could be -done to alter the state of affairs, and as -there was absolutely a ludicrous side to the -question, we laughed heartily and went to -bed.</p> - -<p>Having edified the public with an account -of our first Christmas dinner in the Bush, -I cannot resist the temptation of giving the -details of our last, which certainly did not -show much improvement in our finances.</p> - -<p>On Christmas morning, 1874, we very -early heard a joyous shout, and saw dear -Charles advancing triumphantly with two -very small salt herrings (the last of his stock) -dangling in one hand, and a huge vegetable-marrow -in the other, these articles being the -only addition he could make to our Christmas -dinner, which for the three previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -years he had been mainly instrumental in -providing.</p> - -<p>What could we do but laugh and cheerfully -accept the situation? Charles promised to -bring his dear wife and the two babies down -on the ox-sleigh as early as possible. We -borrowed, without hesitation, some butter -from our friend Mr. A——g, who had a -stock of it, and my eldest son went himself -to fetch him before dinner, fearing that -delicacy would prevent his coming, as he -could too well guess the state of the larder.</p> - -<p>Our guests assembled and dinner-time -arrived, I placed on the table a large and -savoury dish of vegetable-marrow mashed, -with potatoes well buttered, peppered, salted -and baked in the oven; the two herrings -carefully cooked and a steaming dish of -potatoes, with plenty of tea, made up a -repast which we much enjoyed. When tea-time -came, my daughter, who had devoted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -herself for the good of the community, -supplied us with relays of “dampers,” which -met with universal approbation.</p> - -<p>In compliment to our guest, we had -all put on what my boys jocosely term -our “Sunday go-to-meeting clothes!” I -was really glad that the grubs of so many -weary weeks past on this day turned into -butterflies. Cinderella’s transformations were -not more complete. My daughter became -the elegant young woman she has always -been considered; my sons, in once more -getting into their gentlemanly clothes, threw -off the careworn look of working-day fatigue, -and became once more distinguished and -good-looking young men; and as to my -pretty daughter-in-law, I have left her till -the last to have the pleasure of saying that I -never saw her look more lovely. She wore a -very elegant silk dress, had delicate lace and -bright ribbons floating about her, a gold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -locket and chain and sundry pretty ornaments, -relics of her girlish days, and to crown all -her beautiful hair flowing over her shoulders. -I thought several times that afternoon, as I -saw her caressing first one and then another -of her three baby boys, that a painter might -have been proud to sketch the pretty group, -and to throw in at his fancy gorgeous -draperies, antique vases and beautiful flowers, -in lieu of the rude coarse framework of a -log-house.</p> - -<p>I could not but notice this Christmas Day -that no attempt was made at <em>singing</em>, not -even our favourite hymns were proposed; in -fact the whole year had been so brim full of -misfortune and trouble that I think none of -our hearts were attuned to melody. Ah! -dear reader, it takes long chastening before -we can meekly drink the cup of affliction and -say from the heart, “<em>Thy will be done!</em>” -Let you and I, remembering our own shortcomings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -in this respect, be very tender over -those of others!</p> - -<p>Our party broke up early, as the children -and their mother had to be got home -before the light of the short winter-day had -quite vanished, but we all agreed that we had -passed a few hours very pleasantly.</p> - -<p>Very different was our fare on New Year’s -Day of 1875—a sumptuous wild turkey, which -we roasted, having been provided for us by -the kindness of one whom we must ever look -upon in the light of a dear friend.</p> - -<p>The “gentlemanly Canadian,” mentioned -by me in my Bush reminiscences, read my -papers and at once guessed at the authorship. -Being in Muskoka on an election tour with -his friend Mr. Pardee, he procured a guide -and found us out in the Bush. He stayed -but a short time, but the very sight of his -kind friendly face did us good for days. -Finding that I had never seen a wild turkey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -from the prairie, he asked leave to send me -one, and did not forget his promise, sending -a beautiful bird which was meant for our -Christmas dinner, but owing to delays at -Bracebridge only reached us in time for New -Year’s Day; which brings me to 1875, an era -of very important family changes.</p> - -<p>I began this year with more of hopefulness -and pleasure than I had known for a long -time. My determination that this year -should see us clear of the Bush had long -been fixed, and I felt that as I brought -unconquerable energy, and the efforts of a -strong will to bear upon the project, it was -sure to be successful. I had no opposition -now to dread from my dear companions; -both my son and daughter were as weary as -myself of our long-continued and hopeless -struggles. My son’s health and strength -were visibly decreasing; he had already -spent more than three years of the prime<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -of his life in work harder than a common -labourer’s, and with no better result than the -very uncertain prospect of a bare living -at the end of many years more of daily -drudgery. His education fitted him for higher -pursuits, and it was better for him to begin -the world again, even at the age of thirty-two, -than to continue burying himself alive.</p> - -<p>We had long looked upon Bush life in -the light of exile to a penal settlement without -even the convict’s chance of a ticket-of-leave. -All these considerations nerved me -for the disagreeable task of getting money -from England for our removal, in which, -thanks to the unwearied kindness of the -friends I have before mentioned, I succeeded, -and very early in the year we began to make -preparations for our final departure. It -required the stimulus of hope to enable us to -bear the discomforts of our last two months’ -residence in the Bush.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>After the turn of the year, immense -quantities of snow continued to fall till we -were closely encircled by walls of ice and -snow fully five feet in depth. The labour of -keeping paths open to the different farm-buildings -was immense, and the unavoidable -task of cutting away the superincumbent ice -and snow from the different roofs was one of -danger as well as toil. I was told that we -were passing through an exceptional winter, -and I must believe it, as long after we were -in Bracebridge the snow continued to fall, -and even so late as the middle of May a -heavy snow-storm spread its white mantle on -the earth, and hid it from view for many -hours.</p> - -<p>The last day at length arrived, we sat for -the last time by our log-fire, we looked for -the last time on the familiar landscape, and -I, at least, felt not one pang of regret. My -bump of adhesiveness is enormous; I cling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -fondly to the friends I love, to my pet -animals, and even to places where I have -lived; in quitting France I could have cried -over every shrub and flower in my beloved -garden. How great then must have been my -unhappiness, and how I must have loathed -my Bush life, when at quitting it for ever, -my only feeling was joy at my escape!</p> - -<p>At the time we left, the roads were so -dangerous for the horses’ legs that my son -had the greatest difficulty in hiring a wagon -and team for our own use—all our heavy -baggage had been taken in by ox-sleighs. -He succeeded at last, and in the afternoon of -the 2nd of March our exodus began. My -son and the driver removed all but the front -seat, and carefully spread our softest bedding, -blankets and pillows, at the bottom of the -wagon, and on these my daughter and myself -reclined at our ease with our dear little -charge between us. My favourite cat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -Tibbs, of “Atlantic Monthly” celebrity, -was in a warm basket before me, and her -companion Tomkins, tied up in a bag, -slept on my lap the whole way. My son sat -with the driver, and Jack, our black dog, -ran by the side. We slept at Utterson, and -in the morning went on to Bracebridge, where -my son had secured for us a small roadside -house.</p> - -<p>When we were tolerably settled Edward -started for Toronto and Montreal in search -of employment, taking with him many excellent -letters of introduction. In Montreal -he was most kindly and hospitably welcomed -by two dear friends, ladies who came out -with us in the same ship from England, who -received him into their house, introduced him -to a large circle of friends, and did much to -restore the shattered health of the “handsome -emigrant,” as they had named him in -the early stages of their acquaintance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -Eventually finding nothing suitable in either -place, our dear companion and protector for -so many years decided to go on the Survey, -his name having been put down by our kind -friend, the donor of the wild turkey, on the -Staff of his relation, Mr. Stuart, appointed -by Government to survey the district of -Parry Sound. Severe illness of our little -boy, followed by illness of my own which -still continues, was my welcome to Bracebridge, -but still I rejoice daily that our Bush -life is for ever over.</p> - -<p>Here I finally drop the curtain on our -domestic history, and make but a few parting -observations. I am far from claiming undue -sympathy for my individual case, but would -fain deter others of the genteel class, and -especially elderly people, from breaking up -their comfortable homes and following an -<i lang="la">ignis fatuus</i> in the shape of emigration to a -distant land.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> - -<p>I went into the Bush of Muskoka strong -and healthy, full of life and energy, and fully -as enthusiastic as the youngest of our party. -I left it with hopes completely crushed, and -with health so hopelessly shattered from hard -work, unceasing anxiety and trouble of all -kinds, that I am now a helpless invalid, -entirely confined by the doctor’s orders to my -bed and sofa, with not the remotest chance of -ever leaving them for a more active life -during the remainder of my days on earth.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="A_WEDDING_IN_MUSKOKA"> -<img src="images/header-part3.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger">A WEDDING IN MUSKOKA.</p> - -<p class="center">An Incident of Life in the Canadian Backwoods.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/footer-part3.jpg" width="200" height="70" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-3.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2>A WEDDING IN MUSKOKA.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">I freely acknowledge that I -am a romantic old woman; my -children are continually telling -me that such is my character, and without -shame I confess the soft impeachment. I do -not look upon romance as being either -frivolous, unreal, or degrading; I consider -it as a heaven-sent gift to the favoured few, -enabling them to cast a softening halo of -hope and beauty round the stern and rugged -realities of daily life, and fitting them also -to enter into the warm feelings and projects -of the young, long after the dreams of love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -and youth have become to themselves things -of the past. After this exordium, I need -hardly say that I love and am loved by -young people, that I have been the depositary -of many innocent love secrets, and -have brought more than one affair of the -kind to a happy conclusion. I feel tempted -to record my last experience, which began in -France and ended happily in Muskoka. -The parties, I am happy to say, are still -living, to be, I doubt not, greatly amused -at my faithful reminiscences of their past -trials.</p> - -<p>Just seven years ago I was in France -busily working in my beautiful flower-garden, -when I was told that visitors -awaited me in the drawing-room. Hastily -pulling off my garden-gloves and apron, I -went in and found a very dear young friend, -whom I shall call John Herbert; he asked -my permission to present to me four young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -ladies of his acquaintance, all sisters, and -very sweet specimens of pretty, lady-like -English girls. The eldest, much older than -the rest, and herself singularly attractive, -seemed completely to merge her own identity -in that of her young charges, to whose -education she had devoted the best years of -her early womanhood, and who now repaid -her with loving affection and implicit deference -to her authority. It was easy for me -to see that the “bright, particular star” of -my handsome, dashing young friend was the -second sister, a lovely, shy girl of sixteen, -whose blushes and timidity fully assured me -of the state of matters between the two.</p> - -<p>The mother of Mary Lennox (such was -my heroine’s name) lived in France, her -father in England, and in this divided household -the care of the three younger girls had -been entirely left to their eldest sister. -John Herbert had made their acquaintance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -in that extraordinary manner in which -young ladies and gentlemen do manage to -become acquainted, as often in real life as in -novels, without any intercourse between the -respective families. For two or three -months he had been much in their society, -and the well-known result had followed. I -have rarely seen a handsomer couple than -these boy and girl lovers, on whom the -eldest sister evidently looked with fond and -proud admiration; and when, after a protracted -visit, they took leave of me, I felt -fully disposed to treat them with the -warmest kindness and friendship.</p> - -<p>In subsequent interviews, poor Herbert -more fully opened his heart to me, and -laid before me all his plans and projects for -the future. The son of an old officer who -fell during the Crimean war, he had neither -friends nor fortune, but had to make his own -position in the world. At this time he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -twenty-one, and having just entered the -merchant service was about to sail for -Australia.</p> - -<p>He told me also of the fierce opposition -made by every member of Mary’s family, -except her eldest sister, to their engagement. -I was not at all surprised at this, and told -him so; for could anything be more imprudent -than an engagement between two -people so young and so utterly without this -world’s goods?</p> - -<p>Mary, like himself, had neither fortune -nor prospects. She was going to England -to a finishing school with her two sisters, -with the fixed idea of qualifying herself for -a governess. Herbert entreated me to be a -friend to these dear girls in his absence, to -watch especially over his Mary during their -brief holidays which were to be spent in -France, to be his medium of correspondence -with her while away, and above all to watch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -for every incidental opening to influence her -family in his favour.</p> - -<p>To all his wishes I at last consented, not -without seriously laying before him that his -carrying out this wish of his heart mainly -depended upon his own steadiness, good conduct, -and success in his profession. He -promised everything, poor fellow, and religiously -kept his promise. A few hurried -interviews at my house were followed by a -tearful farewell, and then, for the first time, -the young lovers drifted apart. Herbert -sailed for Australia, and Mary and her -sisters crossed the Channel and went to -school.</p> - -<p>I shall try briefly to sketch the appearance -of my two young friends at this momentous -epoch of their lives. Mary Lennox had -large, soft, grey eyes full of expression, with -very beautifully pencilled eyebrows of dark-brown, -the colour of her hair, of which she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -had a great abundance. She had a very -handsome nose, and a well-formed face, with -a colour varying with every shade of feeling. -In height she was rather below than above -middle size, with a pretty, slight figure, -girlish and graceful. In complexion she was -a fair brunette, which suited well with the -colour of her eyes and hair. A great charm -to me was the shy, downcast look of her -pretty face, partly arising from the natural -timidity of her character, and partly from -the novelty of her position.</p> - -<p>After a confidential intercourse of some -weeks, I found her possessed of considerable -character and steady principles, and her -early engagement seemed to have given her -far more serious views of life and its duties, -than could have been expected in one so -young. While her more mercurial sisters -were romping in my garden, and chasing my -pussy cats, she would mostly sit with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -hand confidingly in mine, while her eldest -sister and myself talked of books, music, and -all the topics of the day.</p> - -<p>As to John Herbert, none could look -upon him and not acknowledge that he was -as eminently handsome as his young lady-love. -Not above middle height, his figure -was slight and elegant, but well knit and -muscular, giving promise of still greater -strength when more fully developed. His -merry laughing eyes were a clear hazel, with -yellow spots, very uncommon and very beautiful. -His features finely cut, and delicately -chiselled, would have been perfect, but that -critics pronounced his nose to be a trifle too -long. His eyebrows were dark and rather -thickly marked, giving great expression to -his eyes. A beautiful head of dark curly -hair, and a soft short moustache completed -the appearance of one of the handsomest -boys I have ever seen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> - -<p>At this time he was full of energy, life, -and determination, fond of active, outdoor -employment, with a presence of mind and a -dauntless courage which never failed him in -moments of danger, and which enabled him -in after years to extricate himself and others -from scenes of imminent danger. Indeed, -his sister averred that such was his presence -of mind, that should his ship be wrecked, -and every one on board be lost, Herbert -would surely be saved if with only a butter-boat -to cling to. He was truly affectionate -and kind-hearted, but at this early age -slightly imperious and self-willed, having -been greatly flattered and spoilt in childhood; -but contact with the world does much -to smooth off the sharpest angularities -and poor Herbert had a rough future before -him.</p> - -<p>After Herbert had sailed for Melbourne, -and Mary and her sisters had gone to school,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -more than a year elapsed, during which time -letters duly arrived, which I carefully forwarded; -and soon after the expiration of -that time, he and his ship arrived safely at -Liverpool. Having with some difficulty -obtained from the owners a few days’ leave, -he hurried over to France to see and reassure -his anxious and beloved Mary. Fortunately -it was the Christmas holidays, and -as soon as I could notify his arrival to Miss -Lennox, she brought all the dear girls down -to me.</p> - -<p>Then ensued, for the lovers, long walks up -and down my garden, in spite of the cold; -for us all a few pleasant tea-parties; and -then another separation, which this time was -to extend over more than three years.</p> - -<p>I am by no means favourable to long -engagements, but these two were so young -that I have always considered the years of -anxiety and suspense they passed through,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -as an excellent training-time for both. They -certainly helped to form Mary’s character, -and to give her those habits of patience and -trusting hopefulness which have been of so -much benefit to her since. Nor was she -ever allowed to think herself forgotten. -Fond and affectionate letters came regularly -every month, and at rare intervals -such pretty tokens of remembrance as the -slender means of her sailor lover could procure. -Perfumes and holy beads from India, -feathers from Abyssinia, and a pretty gold -ring, set with pearls of the purest water, -from the Persian Gulf.</p> - -<p>Later came the pleasing intelligence that -John Herbert had passed an excellent -examination to qualify him as mate, and -was on board one of the ships belonging to -the company which took out the expedition -for laying the cable in the Persian Gulf. On -board this ship, called the <i>British India</i>, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -met with a gentleman, whose influence over -his future fate has long appeared to us all -providential. This person was Major C——, -the officer in command of the party sent out. -They had many conversations together; and -cheered and encouraged by his kindness, -Herbert ventured to address a letter to him, -in which he stated how much he was beginning -to suffer from the heat of India; how -in his profession he had been driven about -the world for nearly five years, and still -found himself as little able to marry and -settle as at first; that he had no friend to -place him in any situation which might -better his position, and that his desire to -quit a seafaring life was increased by the -fact that he was never free from sea-sickness, -which pursued and tormented him in every -voyage just as it did in the beginning.</p> - -<p>The kind and gentlemanly Major C—— -responded warmly to this appeal; they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -a long interview, in which he told Herbert -that he himself was about to return to -England, and felt sure that he could procure -for him a good situation in the Telegraph -Department in Persia. He gave him his -address in London, and told him to come -and see him as soon as he got back from -India.</p> - -<p>John Herbert lost no time, when the -expedition was successfully over, in giving -up his situation as mate, and in procuring all -necessary testimonials as to good conduct -and capacity. Indeed, he so wrought upon -the officials of the <i>British India</i>, that they -gave him a free passage in one of their ships -as far as Suez. The letter containing the -news of his improved prospects and speedy -return occasioned the greatest joy.</p> - -<p>I had some time before made the acquaintance -of Mrs. Lennox, and from her manner, -as well as from what Mrs. Lennox told me, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -saw with joy that all active opposition was -over, and that the engagement was tacitly -connived at by the whole family. It was in -the beginning of April that John Herbert -arrived, his health much improved by -absolute freedom from hard work and night -watches. He had to pay all his own -expenses from Suez, and just managed the -overland journey on his little savings of -eighteen or twenty pounds.</p> - -<p>The “lovers’ walk” in my garden was now -in constant occupation, and the summer-house -at the end became a permanent -boudoir. After a few days given to the joy -of such an unexpected and hopeful reunion, -Herbert wrote to Major C—— to announce -his arrival, and to prepare him for a subsequent -visit. He waited some days in great -anxiety, and when he received the answer, -brought it directly to me. I will not say -that despair was written on his face—he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -of too strong and hopeful a temperament for -that—but blank dismay and measureless -astonishment certainly were, and not without -cause. The writer first expressed his deep -regret that any hope he had held out of a -situation should have induced Herbert to give -up his profession for a mere chance. He -then stated that on his own return to England -he had found the Government in one of -its periodical fits of parsimony, and that far -from being able to make fresh appointments, -he had found his own salary cut down, and -all supernumeraries inexorably dismissed. -Such were the contents of Major C——’s -letter. It was indeed a crushing blow. -John Herbert could not but feel that his -five years of tossing about the world in -various climates had been absolutely lost, so -far as being settled in life was concerned, and -he could not but feel also that he had again -to begin the great battle of life, with prospects<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -of success much diminished by the fact -of his being now nearly twenty-six years of -age.</p> - -<p>Many long and anxious conversations -ensued on the receipt of this letter. Both -Herbert and Mary bravely bore up against -the keen disappointment of all their newly-raised -hopes. If the promised and coveted -situation had been secured, there would have -been nothing to prevent their almost immediate -marriage; now all chance of this was -thrown far into the background, and all that -could be done was to trace out for Herbert -some future plan of life to be begun with as -little delay as possible. At the death of a -near relative he would be entitled to a small -portion of money amounting to five hundred -pounds. This he now determined to sink for -the present sum of two hundred pounds -tendered by the Legal Assurance Society, in -lieu of all future claims.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was the end of July, 1870, before the -necessary papers were all signed, and with -the money thus raised, Herbert resolved at -once to start for New York, where he proposed -embarking his small capital in some -business in which his thorough knowledge of -French might be useful to him. He -prudently expended a portion of his money -in a good outfit and a gold watch.</p> - -<p>Soon after his arrival in New York he -wrote to tell us that at the same hotel where -he boarded he had met with an old French -gentleman recently from Paris, that they had -gone into partnership and had opened a small -establishment on Broadway for the sale of -French wines and cigars. He wrote that -they had every hope of doing well, numbers -of foreigners buying from them, Frenchmen -particularly coming in preference where they -could freely converse in their own language. -Just at this epoch the French and German<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -war broke out, and stretching as it were -across the broad Atlantic, swept into its -ruinous vortex the poor little business in -New York on which dear friends at home -were building up such hopes of success. -Herbert and his partner found their circle of -French customers disappear as if by magic, -the greater part recalled to their own -country to serve as soldiers. No German -would enter a French store, the English and -Americans gave them no encouragement, and -amid the stirring events which now occupied -the public mind, the utter failure of the -small business on Broadway took place without -exciting either notice or pity.</p> - -<p>Herbert saved nothing from the wreck of -affairs but his gold watch and his clothes. -It was about this time that a casual acquaintance -mentioned to John Herbert the “free-grant -lands” of Muskoka, pointing them out -as a wide and promising field for emigration.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -He told him that he knew several families -who had located themselves in that distant -settlement, and who had found the land -excellent, the conditions on which it was to -be held easy of fulfilment, and the climate, -though cold, incomparably healthy.</p> - -<p>This intelligence, coming at a time when -all was apparently lost, and his future prospects -of the gloomiest kind, decided John -Herbert to find his way to Muskoka and to -apply for land there. He found a companion -for his long journey in the person of a -German who had come over with him in the -same ship from Havre, and who, like himself, -had entirely failed in bettering his condition -in New York.</p> - -<p>This poor young man had left a wife and -child in Germany, and now that the war had -broken out, having no vocation for fighting, -he was afraid to venture back. Herbert sold -his gold watch (for which he had given<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -twenty pounds) for fifty dollars, and his companion -being much on a par as to funds, they -joined their resources and started for Muskoka. -After a very fatiguing journey, performed -as much as possible on foot, but -latterly partly by rail and partly by boat, -they arrived at Bracebridge, where the -German took up one hundred acres, Herbert -preferring to wait and choose his land in -spring; and it was agreed that during the -winter, now beginning with great severity, -they should work together and have everything -in common.</p> - -<p>Having engaged a man who knew the -country well to go with them and point out -the land they had just taken up, they bought -a few necessary articles, such as bedding, -tools, a cooking-stove, and a small supply of -provisions, and started for the township in -which they were about to locate. Once upon -the land they set to work, cleared a spot of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -ground, and with some assistance from their -neighbours built a small shanty sufficient to -shelter them for the winter. It was when -they were tolerably settled that Herbert -began to feel what a clog and a hindrance his -too hastily formed partnership was likely to -be. Feeble in body and feeble in mind, his -companion became every day more depressed -and home-sick. At last he ceased entirely -from doing any work, which threw a double -portion upon Herbert, who had in addition to -do all commissions, and to fetch the letters -from the distant post-office in all weathers.</p> - -<p>Poor Wilhelm could do nothing but smoke -feebly by the stove, shudder at the cold now -becoming intense, and bemoan his hard fate. -He was likewise so timid that his own -shadow frightened him, and he could not -bear to be left alone in the shanty. Herbert -had a narrow escape of being shot by him -one night on his return, rather late, from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -post-office. Wilhelm, hearing footsteps, in -his fright took down from the wall Herbert’s -double-barrelled gun, which was kept always -loaded, and was vainly trying to point it in -the right direction, out of the door, when -Herbert entered to find him as pale as death, -and with limbs shaking to that degree that -fortunately he had been unable to cock the -gun.</p> - -<p>It was indeed hard to be tied down to such -a companionship. Herbert himself suffered -severely from the cold of the Canadian -climate, coming upon him as it did after some -years’ residence in India, but he never complained, -and his letters home to Mary and all -of us spoke of hopeful feelings and undiminished -perseverance. He has often told -us since that he never left the shanty without -a strong presentiment that on his return -he should find it in flames, so great was the -carelessness of his companion in blowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -about the lighted ashes from his pipe. For -this reason he always carried in the belt he -wore round him, night and day, his small remainder -of money and all his testimonials -and certificates. A great part of his time -was occupied in snaring rabbits and shooting -an occasional bird or squirrel with which to -make soup for his invalid companion. He -used to set his snares overnight and look at -them the first thing in the morning. One -bitter cold morning he went out as usual to -see if anything had been caught, leaving -Wilhelm smoking by the stove. He returned -to find the shanty in flames and -his terrified companion crying, screaming, -and wringing his hands. Herbert called to -him in a voice of thunder, “The powder!” -The frightened fool pointed to the half-burnt -shanty, into which Herbert madly dashed, -and emerged, half smothered, with a large -carpet-bag already smouldering, in which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -among all his best clothes, he had stored -away his entire stock of gunpowder in -canisters. He hurled the carpet-bag far off -into a deep drift of snow, by which prompt -measure he probably saved his own life and -his companion’s, who seemed quite paralysed -by fear. He then attempted to stop the fire -by cutting away the burning rafters, but all -his efforts were useless; hardly anything was -saved but one trunk, which he dragged out -at once though it was beginning to burn.</p> - -<p>The tools, the bedding, the working-clothes, -and most of his good outfit were -consumed, and at night he went to bed at a -kind neighbour’s who had at once taken him -in, feeling too truly that he was again a -ruined man.</p> - -<p>One blessing certainly accrued to him from -this sweeping misfortune. He for ever got -rid of his helpless partner, who at once left -the settlement, leaving Herbert again a free<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -agent. Necessity compelled him now to do -what he had never done before—to write -home for assistance. His letter found his -eldest sister in a position to help him, as she -had just sunk her own portion in the same -manner that he had done, not for her own -benefit, but to assist members of the family -who were in difficulties. She sent him at -once fifty pounds, and with the possession of -this sum all his prospects brightened.</p> - -<p>He left the scene of his late disaster, took -up one hundred acres of land for himself and -another one hundred in the name of Mary -Lennox, making sure that she would eventually -come out to him. He set hard to work chopping -and clearing a few acres, which, as the -spring opened, he cropped judiciously. He then -called a “bee,” which was well attended, -and raised the walls of a good large log-house, -the roof of which he shingled entirely -himself in a masterly manner. For stock he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -bought two cows and some chickens; and -then wrote to Mary, telling of his improved -prospects, and asking her if, when he was -more fully settled, she would consent to share -his lot in this far-off corner of the earth. At -this time Mary was on a visit to me, having -been allowed, for the first time, to accept my -warm invitation. All her family were at the -sea-side in England, having left during the -French war.</p> - -<p>I have often said that a special Providence -certainly watched over Herbert and Mary. -It did seem most extraordinary that just at -this particular time a married sister of John -Herbert, with her husband and children, had -suddenly determined to join him in Muskoka. -The reason was this: Mr. C——, her husband, -was the classical and mathematical professor -in a large French academy; but years of -scholastic duties and close attention to books -had so undermined his health, that he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -quite unable to continue the exercise of his -profession; indeed, the medical men consulted -by him gave it as their opinion that -nothing but an entire change of climate and -occupation, and a complete abstinence from -all studious pursuits, together with an outdoor -life, would give him the slightest chance -of recovery. Herbert was written to and -authorised to take up land for them near his -own, and it was settled that they were to -sail in the end of July.</p> - -<p>Now came my time for persuasion and influence. -I opened a correspondence with -Mary’s father, who had recently received an -explicit and manly letter from Herbert, with -which he was much pleased. I represented -to Mr. Lennox that this was no longer the -“boy-and-girl love” (to quote his own words) -of five years ago, but a steady affection, which -had been severely tested by trouble, difficulty, -opposition, and separation; that no future<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -opportunity could ever be so favourable as -the present one for his daughter going out to -her future husband under the protection and -guardianship of a family soon to become her -relations, and who would, in everything, -watch over her interest and comfort. In -short, I left nothing unsaid that could make -a favourable impression, willingly conceding to -his paternal feelings that it was, in a worldly -point of view, a match falling short of his -just expectations for his beautiful and accomplished -child.</p> - -<p>When two or three letters had passed between -us, we agreed that Mary should go -over at once to her family, and join her personal -influence to my special pleading.</p> - -<p>I waited with great anxiety for her answer. -At length it came. Her family had -consented. Fortunately she was just of age; -and as she remained steadfast in her attachment, -they agreed with me that it would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -best for her to go out with her future sister-in-law. -Mary wrote to Mrs. C——, gratefully -accepting her offer of chaperonage, and we -despatched the joyful news to Herbert; but -unfortunately named a date for their probable -arrival which proved incorrect, as their vessel -sailed from London two or three weeks before -the expected time. This we shall see was -productive of much temporary annoyance.</p> - -<p>I pass over all the details of their voyage -and subsequent journey, and now take up the -narrative in Mrs. C——’s words, telling of -their arrival at Mary’s future home:</p> - -<p>“It was about noon of a burning day in -August when the stage-wagon in which we -came from Utterson turned out of the road -into the Bush. After going some little -way in a dreadful narrow track, covered with -stumps, over which the wagon jolted fearfully, -we were told to get down, as the driver -could not go any farther with safety to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -horses; and we therefore paid and dismissed -him.</p> - -<p>“We soon came to a shanty by the -roadside, the owner of which met us -and offered to be our guide. He evidently -knew to whom we were going, but the perplexed -and doubtful expression of his face -when he caught sight of our party was most -amusing. He looked from one to the other, -and then burst out, in quite an injured tone, -‘But nothing is ready for you; the house -even is not finished. Mr. Herbert knows -nothing of your coming so soon; he told me -this morning that he did not expect you for -three weeks! What will he do?’ The poor -man, a great friend and ally of Herbert’s, appeared -quite angry at our ill-timed arrival; -but we explained to him that we should only -be too thankful for any kind of shelter, being -dreadfully wearied with our long journey, -and the poor children crying from heat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -fatigue, and the attacks of the mosquitoes.</p> - -<p>“Charles now proposed going in advance -of us, to prepare Herbert for our arrival. He -walked quickly on, and, entering the clearing, -caught sight of Herbert, hard at work in -the burning sun, covered with dust and perspiration, -and, in fact, barely recognisable, -being attired in a patched suit of common -working-clothes, which he had snatched from -the burning shanty, with his toes also peeping -out of a pair of old boots with soles -partly off.</p> - -<p>“On first seeing his brother-in-law, every -vestige of colour left his face, so great was -his emotion, knowing that we must be close -at hand. To rush into the house, after a few -words of explanation, to make a brief toilet, -greatly aided by a bucket of water and plenty -of soap, to attire himself in a most becoming -suit of cool brown linen, and, finally, to place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -on his hastily-brushed head a Panama hat, -which we had often admired, was the work of -little more than a quarter of an hour; and, to -Charles’ great amusement, the scrubby, dirty-looking -workman he had greeted, stepped -forward in the much-improved guise of a -handsome and aristocratic-looking young -planter.</p> - -<p>“In the meantime, our guide having -brought us within sight of the outer fence, -hastily took his leave, hardly waiting to receive -our thanks. Mary and I have often -laughed since at his great anxiety to get -away from us, which we know now was -partly from delicate reluctance to intrude -upon our first interview, but a great deal -more from his horror at the state in which -he knew things to be at the house.</p> - -<p>“Poor Herbert, when he reached us, could -hardly speak. After one fond and grateful -embrace of his darling, and a most kind and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -affectionate welcome to the children and myself, -he conducted us to the house. Although -his neighbour had prepared us for disappointment, -yet I must own that we felt unutterable -dismay when we looked around us.</p> - -<p>“The house was certainly a good large one, -but it was a mere shell; nothing but the -walls and the roof were up, and even the -walls were neither chinked nor mossed, so -that we could see daylight between all the logs. -The floor was not laid down, but in the -middle of it an excavation had been begun for -a cellar, so that there was a yawning hole, in -which for some weeks my children found a -play-closet and a hiding-place for all their -rubbish.</p> - -<p>“Furniture there was none, the only seats -and tables being Herbert’s one trunk, partly -burned, saved from the fire, and a few flour-barrels. -There was no semblance of a bed, -except a little hay in a corner, a few sacks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -and an old blanket. Some milk-pans and a -few plates and mugs completed the articles -in this truly Irish cabin, of which Herbert -did the honours with imperturbable grace -and self-possession. He made no useless -apologies for the existing discomforts; he -told us simply what he meant the house to -be as soon as he could get time to finish it; -and in the interim he looked about with as -much satisfaction as if his log-house had been -Windsor Castle, and we the crowned heads -to whom he was displaying its glories.</p> - -<p>“We found the larder as scantily-furnished -as the house; but Herbert made us a few -cakes and baked them in the oven; he boiled -some potatoes, and milked the cow, so that -we were not long without some refreshment.</p> - -<p>“For sleeping we curtained off a corner -of the room with our travelling-cloaks and -shawls, and made a tolerable bed with -bundles of hay and a few sacks to cover us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -We had brought nothing with us but our -hand-baskets, so were obliged to lie down in -most of our clothes, the nights beginning to -be very chilly, and the night air coming in -freely through the unchinked walls. We -were, however, truly thankful this first night -to put the children to bed quite early, and to -retire ourselves, for we were thoroughly -wearied and worn out. The two gentlemen -lay down, just as they were, in the far corner -of the room on some hay; and if we were -chilly and uncomfortable, I think they must -have been more so.</p> - -<p>“The first night we were undisturbed; -but on the next, we were hardly asleep when -we were awoke by a horrid and continuous -hissing, which seemed to come from the hay -of our improvised bed. We all started up in -terror, the poor frightened children crying -loudly. The gentlemen, armed with sticks, -beat the hay of the beds about, and scattered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -it completely. They soon had the pleasant -sight of a tolerable-sized snake gliding swiftly -from our corner, and making its escape under -the door into the clearing, where Herbert -found and killed it next morning. We must -indeed have been tired to sleep soundly, as -we all certainly did, after the beds had been -re-arranged.</p> - -<p>“The next day Mr. C—— proposed walking -to Utterson, to purchase a few necessary -articles of food; and Herbert went on to -Bracebridge, to look for a clergyman to perform -the marriage ceremony between him -and Mary. As to waiting for our luggage, -and for the elegant bridal attire which had -been so carefully packed by loving hands, we -all agreed that it would be ridiculous; and -dear Mary, like a true heroine, accepted the -discomforts of her situation bravely, and, far -from uttering a single complaint, made the -best of everything.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Both Mr. C—— and myself had fits of -irrepressible vexation at the state of affairs; -but as we could in no way help ourselves, -we thought it best to be silent, and to hurry -on the building of a log-house for ourselves, -which we at once did.</p> - -<p>“The very day after our arrival, Mary and -I undertook the work of housekeeping, taking -it by turns day and day about. We found -it most fatiguing, the days being so hot and -the mosquitoes so tormenting. Moreover, -the stove being placed outside, we were exposed -to the burning sun every time we -went near it, and felt quite ill in consequence.</p> - -<p>“When Herbert returned from Bracebridge, -he told us that the Church of England -clergyman being away at Toronto, he had -engaged the services of the Wesleyan minister -whose chapel he had sometimes attended, -and that gentleman had promised to come as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -soon as possible, and to bring with him a -proper and respectable witness.</p> - -<p>“The day of his coming being left uncertain, -Mary and I were kept in a continual -state of terror and expectation, and at such a -time we felt doubly the annoyance of not -being able to get from Toronto even the -trunks containing our clothes. In vain we -tried to renovate our soiled and travel-stained -dresses; neither brushing, nor shaking, nor -sponging could alter their unmistakably -shabby appearance, and it required some -philosophy to be contented. It was worse -for poor Mary than for any one else; and I -felt quite touched when I saw her carefully -washing and ironing the lace frill from the -neck of her dress, and then arranging it again -as nicely as possible.</p> - -<p>“Two days passed, and on the afternoon -of the third we had put the poor children to -sleep, and were lying down ourselves, quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -overcome with the heat, when my husband -entered hastily to tell us that the Rev. Mr. -W—— had arrived to perform the marriage -ceremony, and had brought with him as witness -a good-natured store-keeper, who had left his -business to oblige Herbert, with whom he -had had many dealings.</p> - -<p>“Herbert, who had dressed himself every -day, not to be taken by surprise, was quite -ready, and kept them in conversation while -Mary and I arranged our hair, washed the -children’s faces and hands, and, as well as we -could, prepared the room. When all was -ready they were summoned, and in making -their introductory bows, both our visitors -nearly backed themselves into the yawning -cavern in the middle of the floor, which, in -our trepidation, we had forgotten to point -out.</p> - -<p>“Very impressively did the good minister -perform the marriage service; and at its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -close he addressed to the young couple -a few words of serious and affectionate -exhortation, well suited to the occasion.</p> - -<p>“He begged them to remember, that -living as they were about to do in the -lonely forest, far from the public ordinances -of religion, they must give the more -heed to their religious duties, and to the -study of the Word of God, endeavouring -to live not for this world only, but for that -other world to which young and old were -alike hastening.</p> - -<p>“Herbert looked his very best on this -momentous occasion, and, in spite of all disadvantages -of dress and difficulties of position, -dear Mary looked most sweet and beautiful, -and created, I am sure, quite a fatherly -interest in the heart of the good old clergyman, -himself the father of a numerous family. -We could offer the clergyman and witness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -no refreshment; and when they were gone, -our wedding-feast consisted of a very salt -ham-bone, dough dumplings, and milk-and-water.”</p> - -<p>So ends Mrs. C——’s narrative, to which I -shall append but few observations. All went -well from the day of the wedding, and on -that day the sun went down on a happy -couple. Doubt, anxiety, separation—all -these were at an end; and, for weal or -woe, John Herbert and Mary Lennox were -indissolubly united. Trials and troubles -might await them in the future; but for -the present, youth, health, hope, and love -were beckoning them onward with ineffable -smiles.</p> - -<p>The luggage soon arrived, and comfortable -bedding superseded hay and snakes. -Mr. and Mrs. C—— removed as soon as -possible into their own log-house, leaving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -our young couple to the privacy of their -home.</p> - -<p>Herbert worked early and late to finish his -house, and partitioned off a nice chamber for -Mary, which was prettily furnished and ornamented -with cherished books, and gifts, -and keepsakes from dear and distant friends. -The wealthier members of Mary’s family sent -substantial tokens of goodwill, and many -pretty and useful gifts came from the loving -sister, who begins to talk of coming out -herself.</p> - -<p>Mary’s parents, cheered and comforted by -the happy and contented tone breathed in -her letters, ceased to regret having sanctioned -the marriage; and, to crown all, a -little son in due time made his appearance, -to cement still further the love of his -parents and to concentrate a very large portion -of it in his own little person.</p> - -<p>Here let the curtain drop. From time to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -time I may have had misgivings, but have -long been fully satisfied that a blessing has -rested on my well-meant endeavours to secure -the happiness of two young and loving -hearts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="ANECDOTES_OF_THE_CANADIAN_BUSH"> -<img src="images/header-part4.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger">ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH,<br /> -THIRTY YEARS AGO.</p> - -<p class="center">TOLD ME BY THE WIFE OF AN OLD SETTLER.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/footer-part4.jpg" width="200" height="80" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-4.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2>ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">Thirty 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -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 farming, not having been -used to it, being by trade a gunsmith.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When we were within a mile of our destination -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 extraordinary manner, and appeared too -frightened to move on.</p> - -<p>I whispered to my husband that I saw the -green top 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>My husband got out and stood at the pony’s -head, holding him firmly to prevent his starting. -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 advanced -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, knowing what -a terror they have of man.</p> - -<p>After steadily looking at each other for at -least five minutes—minutes of suspense and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 husband -had been gone for two days on important -business to a village a long way off, -and on this particular evening I fully expected -him home.</p> - -<p>We were living in quite a small shanty till -we could build a larger house; it had a fireplace -on the floor, and an open chimney; the -room was very low, and easy of access from -the outside. I was living then with my -three little children and a young sister of -fourteen who helped me to take care of them. -As it was getting dusk I thought I heard a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -human voice distinctly calling from the forest, -“Hallo!” I went to the door and immediately -answered in the same tone, “Hallo!” -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.</p> - -<p>The children, most fortunately, were playing -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 animal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -could see the blazing fire on the hearth, -and came no nearer.</p> - -<p>We hastily shut the door, and my poor little -sister began to cry and bemoan the danger we -were in:</p> - -<p>“Oh! 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>My husband did not return till the evening -of the next day, and he had seen nothing of -our unwelcome visitor.</p> - -<p>At the time I speak of, the woods of Muskoka -were quite infested with wolves, which, -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 unfortunately -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -his carelessness, remained sulkily within doors -by himself.</p> - -<p>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 carcase -of the calf; he rushed out with the long -stick in his hand, and saw four or five animals -busily tearing off 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 off 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 interrupted. -He said, that so great was his -terror that he could hardly get back to the -shanty and fasten the door.</p> - -<p>All the Canadian wild animals are timid;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Since the time I speak of, the settlements -all over the district have become very numerous, -and the quantity of land cleared up is -so great that the wild animals keep retreating -farther and farther into the recesses of -the forest; and even the trappers by profession -find their trade much less lucrative -than it was, they have so much more difficulty -in finding game in any quantity.</p> - -<p>It is hardly possible to make people understand, -who are unacquainted with Bush-life, -what the early settlers in Muskoka and -other parts had to suffer. Young creatures -with their babies were left alone in situations -which in more settled countries call for the -greatest care and tenderness, and in desolate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -solitudes where they were far from all human -help.</p> - -<p>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 breakfast, -and soon after he left I became so dreadfully -ill that I could not lift my head from -the pillow, or indeed turn myself in the -bed.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -evening, when my husband returned with one -of my sisters. After that I became delirious, -and had hardly recovered when my child was -born.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -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. All this windfall was -overgrown with blackberry-bushes, and at -this time of year (the autumn) there were -quantities of fruit, and parties used to be -made for picking them, with a view to preserving.</p> - -<p>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 imaginary -trace the first parties went in quite a -wrong direction.</p> - -<p>The child had no sustenance but the fruit; -at length he became too much exhausted to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -pick, and, as he described it, only felt sleepy. -Providentially, in passing an uprooted tree, -he saw underneath a large hole, and creeping -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.</p> - -<p>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 careful -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -throat a little at a time till he was able to -swallow freely.</p> - -<p>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!” 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 <em>bear</em> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -talk of the “kind brown dog” who had kept -him so nice and warm in his hole in the tree.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -our horse that he dashed off at full speed, -and providentially meeting with no obstacle, -never stopped till he reached the fence of my -husband’s clearing. Even when locked into -the house for the night we could hardly -fancy ourselves in safety.</p> - -<p>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 suddenly called away -to a fresh situation, by which I lost many -more of her interesting experiences, for as -she truly said, numberless were the expedients -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 confiscated. -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Wolves 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Presently on the still night air rose a -horrid fierce growl which was repeated at -intervals two or three times, getting fainter -in the 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, accompanied -by a young friend armed also, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Hoping that towards morning he might, -as is usually the case, return the same way, -they seated themselves on a log by the roadside -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 side next the cedar-swamp. -Guided by her barking the two gentlemen -followed quickly, and this time had a full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -view in broad daylight of a large brown bear -in full flight, but never got within shooting distance. -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.</p> - -<p>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 to 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 probably -have been killed but that his shouts -brought up a party of men working on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Two or three bears and a lynx were killed -in the fall of 1873, in the vicinity of Bracebridge, -and one within a mile of the village, -on the road to the “South Falls,” one of my -favourite walks when I was staying there. -There is, however, but little danger of meeting -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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="THE_WILDS_OF_MUSKOKA"> -<img src="images/header-part5.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger">TERRA INCOGNITA;</p> - -<p class="center">OR,</p> - -<p class="center larger">THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/footer-part5.jpg" width="200" height="50" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-10.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2>THE WILDS OF MUSKOKA.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">In reading the history of newly-settled -countries and the rise and -progress of mighty states, nothing -is more interesting than to trace the wonderful -and rapid results which spring from the -smallest beginnings. In changing the wilderness -into 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 civilisation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -These last can only be obtained by -the growth and encouragement of the ornamental -as well as useful arts; then comes the -dawning of political power, till at length we -see with amusement that the scattered hamlet -has become a thriving village, the village a -populous 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 simply unbroken forest.</p> - -<p>Such is the future which, under the fulfilment -of certain conditions, we may confidently -predict for the free-grant lands of -Muskoka, to which the Canadian Government -are making strenuous efforts to draw -the tide of emigration. Nothing can well -be more picturesque than the tract of -country already embracing twelve townships -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. Unfortunately -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 judiciously, -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> - -<p>Having been located in the township of -Stephenson for more than two years, I am -able to make some observations on the subject, -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Ten years ago the first adventurous settler<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -built his log-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.</p> - -<p>A few statistics of Bracebridge at the -close of the present year (1873) will show -what progress has been made in every -department.</p> - -<table summary="Statistics"> - <tr> - <td>Population</td><td class="tdr">800</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Children attending public schools</td><td class="tdr">250</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Children attending four Sunday schools</td><td class="tdr">200</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Number of churches</td><td class="tdr">4</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Clergymen</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Medical doctors</td><td class="tdr">2</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Barristers, attorneys, conveyancers</td><td class="tdr">7</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Stores</td><td class="tdr">15</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>In course of erection</td><td class="tdr">5</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Hotels</td><td class="tdr">6</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>Printing-offices</td><td class="tdr">2</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Saw-mills</td><td class="tdr">4</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Grist and flour mill</td><td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Carding mill and woollen factory</td><td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Shoe shops</td><td class="tdr">3</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Butchers’ shops</td><td class="tdr">3</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Blacksmiths’ shops</td><td class="tdr">4</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Bakers’ shops</td><td class="tdr">4</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>Besides these are many wheelwrights, -carpenters, joiners, etc. The gentleman who -wrote to the <i>Daily News</i> in England from -Huntsville in this neighbourhood, most -unduly disparaged the little town of Bracebridge, -but as he visited Muskoka in exceptionally -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -have every hope that improvement in our -roads, as in everything else, will reach us -in time.</p> - -<p>The climate of Muskoka is most favourable -to health, even to invalids, provided -they have no consumptive tendencies. For -all pulmonary complaints it is most unsuitable, -on account of the very sudden -atmospheric changes. The short summer, -with its inevitable accompaniment of tormenting -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 -thank the air of Muskoka for the entire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -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 recovery, -he was ordered an entire change of -climate and outdoor occupation instead of -study.</p> - -<p>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 delicate, -and had from infancy held life by a most -precarious tenure; but at the present time he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -is a very fine specimen of healthy and robust -childhood.</p> - -<p>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,” contributed -to the <i>Free Grant Gazette</i>, I -earnestly endeavoured to draw public attention -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -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 conditions -are simply that he shall have cleared -and got under cultivation fifteen acres, and -have raised a log-house of proper dimensions.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 uncertain, -the labour very hard, and Bush-farming -for the first four or five years very -uphill work. If, however, instead of yielding -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-farming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -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 himself -out to work on another person’s ground -for at least a year before finally settling upon -his own.</p> - -<p>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 mistakes -and so much failure among our poorer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -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 conventional -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 <em>out</em> -of the Bush would be equally reprehensible.</p> - -<p>After all the pros and the cons of emigration -to Muskoka have been fully discussed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -one fact stands prominently forward for the -consideration of the labouring classes of -Great Britain.</p> - -<p>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 emigrating -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 competence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -if not affluence, 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="A_PLEA_FOR_POOR_EMIGRANTS"> -<img src="images/header-part6.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger">A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> -<img src="images/footer-part6.jpg" width="250" height="50" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header-9.jpg" width="500" height="170" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2>A PLEA FOR POOR EMIGRANTS.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-d.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">During 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 expression, -as if they hardly knew where to go or -what to do next.</p> - -<p>Who but must feel the deepest sympathy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -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 Muskoka.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 conversation -to utter the cabalistic word “Muskoka,” -for us to be immediately treated to admonitory -shakes of the head, shrugs of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -shoulders, uplifted hands, and very clearly -expressed opinions that we were rushing to -certain destruction.</p> - -<p>Now, <em>we</em> emigrated with a definite purpose -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 anything -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 Bracebridge -full of doubts and fears as to their -comfortable settlement and ultimate success.</p> - -<p>Happy would it be for the emigrant, married -or single, if his difficulties were ended -by his safe arrival at Bracebridge; but such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -is not the case. As in all communities there -will be an admixture of worthless and designing -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 country”—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 fellowship -is tempted to drink at the bars of the -different hotels, and to join in the low gambling -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> - -<p>The married emigrant likewise is often -deceived and misled by people as ignorant as -himself, who give him altogether false impressions -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.</p> - -<p>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 purpose -of taking up land; but it would be obviously -impossible for this gentleman, and -incompatible with the public duties of himself -and his assistants, to enter minutely into -the wants and requirements of each individual -emigrant, or to give that detailed -advice and assistance which in many cases is -so absolutely necessary.</p> - -<p>Could not much be done, and many evils<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -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?</p> - -<p>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 who accepted the gratuitous shelter -provided for them. Surely for such a desirable -object as the one in view, the sanction -and co-operation of the Dominion Government -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 emigrants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -come in every year who have left behind -them in the old country dear friends and -relations, who only wait for their favourable -verdict upon the promised land, to come out -and join them.</p> - -<p>Would it not be well that emigrants should -be enabled to write home truthfully and -gratefully that they were met on their -arrival at Bracebridge with brotherly kindness, -Christian sympathy, shelter for their -wives and families, sound reliable advice as -to their future course, and help and encouragement -suited to their especial need? It -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.</p> - -<p>I do not think this would be the case. It -appears to me that an emigrant, arriving as -too many do with his means utterly exhausted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -and with little but starvation in view -for his family and himself, would have his -British feelings of sturdy independence considerably -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -consideration, and I cannot end my few observations -better than with the refrain of a -deservedly popular song:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Then do your best for one another,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Making life a pleasant dream;</div> -<div class="verse">Help a worn and weary brother</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Pulling hard against the stream.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p> - -<p class="center">BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>S. &. H.</i></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Letters from Muskoka, by Harriet Barbara King - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM MUSKOKA *** - -***** This file should be named 52972-h.htm or 52972-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/7/52972/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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