diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/52972-h/52972-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52972-h/52972-h.htm | 7087 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 7087 deletions
diff --git a/old/52972-h/52972-h.htm b/old/52972-h/52972-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index cd6ace9..0000000 --- a/old/52972-h/52972-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7087 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Letters from Muskoka, by An Emigrant Lady (Harriet Barbara King). - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - -<style type="text/css"> - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -hr { - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -p.dropcap { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.dropcap:first-letter { - color: transparent; - visibility: hidden; - margin-left: -0.9em; -} - -img.dropcap { - float: left; - margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; -} - -table { - margin: 1em auto 1em auto; - max-width: 40em; -} - -td { - padding-left: 2.25em; - padding-right: 0.25em; - vertical-align: top; - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; - margin: 1em; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .verse { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent1 { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 80%; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -@media handheld { - -img { - max-width: 100%; - width: auto; - height: auto; -} - -img.dropcap { - display: none; -} - -.poetry { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} - -p.dropcap:first-letter { - color: inherit; - visibility: visible; - margin-left: 0; -} -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -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) - - - - - - -</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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> |