Life in the Clearings versus the Bush

by Mrs. Moodie

Author of "Roughing it in the Bush, " &c. 

 "I sketch from Nature, and the draught is true. Whate'er the picture, whether grave or gay, Painful experience in a distant land Made it mine own. "

 TO

JOHN WEDDERBURN DUNBAR MOODIE, ESQ. 

 SHERRIFF OF THE COUNTY OF HASTINGS, UPPER CANADA, THIS WORK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED, BY HIS ATTACHED FRIEND

 AND WIFE, SUSANNA MOODIE

Contents

 Introduction I Belleville II Local Improvements--Sketches of Society III Free Schools--Thoughts on Education IV Amusements V Trials of a Travelling Musician VI The Singing Master VII Camp Meetings VIII Wearing Mourning for the Dead IX Odd Characters X Grace Marks XI Michael Macbride XII Jeanie Burns XIII Lost Children XIV Toronto XV Lunatic Asylum XVI Provincial Agricultural Show XVII Niagara XVIII Goat Island XIX Conclusion

INTRODUCTION

 "Dear foster-mother, on whose ample breast The hungry still find food, the weary rest; The child of want that treads thy happy shore, Shall feel the grasp of poverty no more; His honest toil meet recompense can claim, And Freedom bless him with a freeman's name!" S. M. 

In our work of "Roughing it in the Bush, " I endeavoured to draw apicture of Canadian life, as I found it twenty years ago, in theBackwoods. My motive in giving such a melancholy narrative to theBritish public, was prompted by the hope of deterring well-educatedpeople, about to settle in this colony, from entering upon a life forwhich they were totally unfitted by their previous pursuits and habits. 

To persons unaccustomed to hard labour, and used to the comforts andluxuries deemed indispensable to those moving in the middle classes athome, a settlement in the bush can offer few advantages. It has provedthe ruin of hundreds and thousands who have ventured their all in thishazardous experiment; nor can I recollect a single family of the higherclass, that have come under my own personal knowledge, that everrealised an independence, or bettered their condition, by taking up wildlands in remote localities; while volumes might be filled with failures, even more disastrous than our own, to prove the truth of my formerstatements. 

But while I have endeavoured to point out the error of gentlemenbringing delicate women and helpless children to toil in the woods, andby so doing excluding them from all social intercourse with persons intheir own rank, and depriving the younger branches of the family of theadvantages of education, which, in the vicinity of towns and villages, can be enjoyed by the children of the poorest emigrant, I have neversaid anything against the REAL benefits to be derived from a judiciouschoice of settlement in this great and rising country. 

God forbid that any representations of mine should deter one of mycountrymen from making this noble and prosperous colony his future home. But let him leave to the hardy labourer the place assigned to him byProvidence, nor undertake, upon limited means, the task of pioneer inthe great wilderness. Men of independent fortune can live anywhere. Ifsuch prefer a life in the woods, to the woods let them go; but they willsoon find out that they could have employed the means in their power ina far more profitable manner than in chopping down trees in the bush. 

There are a thousand more advantageous ways in which a man of propertymay invest his capital, than by burying himself and his family in thewoods. There never was a period in the history of the colony thatoffered greater inducements to men of moderate means to emigrate toCanada than the present. The many plank-roads and railways in the courseof construction in the province, while they afford high and remunerativewages to the working classes, will amply repay the speculator whoembarks a portion of his means in purchasing shares in them. And ifhe is bent upon becoming a Canadian farmer, numbers of fine farms, inhealthy and eligible situations, and in the vicinity of good markets, are to be had on moderate terms, that would amply repay the cultivatorfor the money and labour expended upon them. 

There are thousands of independent proprietors of this class inCanada--men who move in the best society, and whose names have apolitical weight in the country. Why gentlemen from Britain shouldobstinately crowd to the Backwoods, and prefer the coarse, hard life ofan axeman, to that of a respectable landed proprietor in a civilisedpart of the country, has always been to me a matter of surprise; for afarm under cultivation can always be purchased for less money than mustnecessarily be expended upon clearing and raising buildings upon a wildlot. 

Many young men are attracted to the Backwoods by the facilities theypresent for hunting and fishing. The wild, free life of the hunter, has for an ardent and romantic temperament an inexpressible charm. Buthunting and fishing, however fascinating as a wholesome relaxation fromlabour, will not win bread, or clothe a wife and shivering little ones;and those who give themselves entirely up to such pursuits, soon add tothese profitless accomplishments the bush vices of smoking and drinking, and quickly throw off those moral restraints upon which theirrespectability and future welfare mainly depend. 

The bush is the most demoralizing place to which an anxious and prudentparent could send a young lad. Freed suddenly from all parental control, and exposed to the contaminating influence of broken-down gentlemenloafers, who hide their pride and poverty in the woods, he joinsin their low debauchery, and falsely imagines that, by becoming ablackguard, he will be considered an excellent backwoodsman. 

How many fine young men have I seen beggared and ruined in the bush!It is too much the custom in the woods for the idle settler, whowill not work, to live upon the new comer as long as he can give himgood fare and his horn of whisky. When these fail, farewell to your_good-hearted_, roystering friends; they will leave you like aswarm of musquitoes, while you fret over your festering wounds, and flyto suck the blood of some new settler, who is fool enough to believetheir offers of friendship. 

The dreadful vice of drunkenness, of which I shall have occasion tospeak hereafter, is nowhere displayed in more revolting colours, oroccurs more frequently, than in the bush; nor is it exhibited by thelower classes in so shameless a manner as by the gentlemen settlers, from whom a better example might be expected. It would not be difficultto point out the causes which too often lead to these melancholyresults. Loss of property, incapacity for hard labour, yielding the mindto low and degrading vices, which destroy self-respect and paralysehonest exertion, and the annihilation of those extravagant hopes thatfalse statements, made by interested parties, had led them to entertainof fortunes that might be realised in the woods: these are a few amongthe many reasons that could be given for the number of victims thatyearly fill a drunkard's dishonourable grave. 

At the period when the greatest portion of "Roughing it in the Bush"was written, I was totally ignorant of life in Canada, as it existed inthe towns and villages. Thirteen years' residence in one of the mostthriving districts in the Upper Province has given me many opportunitiesof becoming better acquainted with the manners and habits of her busy, bustling population, than it was possible for me ever to obtain in thegreen prison of the woods. 

Since my residence in a settled part of the country, I have enjoyedas much domestic peace and happiness as ever falls to the lot of poorhumanity. Canada has become almost as dear to me as my native land;and the homesickness that constantly preyed upon me in the Backwoods, has long ago yielded to the deepest and most heartfelt interest inthe rapidly increasing prosperity and greatness of the country of myadoption, --the great foster-mother of that portion of the human family, whose fatherland, however dear to them, is unable to supply them withbread. 

To the honest sons of labour Canada is, indeed, an El Dorado--a landflowing with milk and honey; for they soon obtain that independencewhich the poor gentleman struggles in vain to realise by his own labourin the woods. 

The conventional prejudices that shackle the movements of members of thehigher classes in Britain are scarcely recognised in Canada; and a manis at liberty to choose the most profitable manner of acquiring wealth, without the fear of ridicule and the loss of caste. 

The friendly relations which now exist between us and our enterprising, intelligent American neighbours, have doubtless done much to producethis amalgamation of classes. The gentleman no longer looks down withsupercilious self-importance on the wealthy merchant, nor does thelatter refuse to the ingenious mechanic the respect due to him as a man. A more healthy state pervades Canadian society than existed here a fewyears ago, when party feeling ran high, and the professional men andoffice holders visited exclusively among themselves, affecting airs ofaristocratic superiority, which were perfectly absurd in a new country, and which gave great offence to those of equal wealth who were notadmitted into their clique. Though too much of this spirit exists in thelarge cities, such as Quebec, Montreal, and Toronto, it would not betolerated in the small district towns and villages, where a gentlemancould not take a surer method of making himself unpopular than byexhibiting this feeling to his fellow-townsmen. 

I have been repeatedly asked, since the publication of "Roughing itin the Bush, " to give an account of the present state of society inthe colony, and to point out its increasing prosperity and commercialadvantages; but statistics are not my forte, nor do I feel myselfqualified for such an arduous and important task. My knowledge of thecolony is too limited to enable me to write a comprehensive work ona subject of vital consequence, which might involve the happiness ofothers. But what I do know I will endeavour to sketch with a lightpencil; and if I cannot convey much useful information, I will try toamuse the reader; and by a mixture of prose and poetry compile a smallvolume, which may help to while away an idle hour, or fill up the blanksof a wet day. 

Belleville, Canada West, Nov. 24th, 1852. 

Indian Summer. 

 By the purple haze that lies On the distant rocky height, By the deep blue of the skies, By the smoky amber light, Through the forest arches streaming. Where nature on her throne sits dreaming, And the sun is scarcely gleaming Through the cloudlet's snowy white, Winter's lovely herald greets us, Ere the ice-crown'd tyrant meets us. 

 A mellow softness fills the air-- No breeze on wanton wing steals by, To break the holy quiet there, Or make the waters fret and sigh. Or the golden alders shiver, That bend to kiss the placid river, Flowing on and on for ever; But the little waves seem sleeping, O'er the pebbles slowly creeping, That last night were flashing, leaping, Driven by the restless breeze, In lines of foam beneath yon trees. 

 Dress'd in robes of gorgeous hue-- Brown and gold with crimson blent, The forest to the waters blue Its own enchanting tints has lent. In their dark depths, life-like glowing, We see a second forest growing, Each pictur'd leaf and branch bestowing A fairy grace on that twin wood, Mirror'd within the crystal flood. 

 'Tis pleasant now in forest shades;-- The Indian hunter strings his bow To track, through dark entangled glades, The antler'd deer and bounding doe; Or launch at night his birch canoe, To spear the finny tribes that dwell On sandy bank, in weedy cell, Or pool the fisher knows right well, -- Seen by the red and livid glow Of pine-torch at his vessel's bow. 

 This dreamy Indian summer-day Attunes the soul to tender sadness: We love, but joy not in the ray, -- It is not summer's fervid gladness, But a melancholy glory Hov'ring brightly round decay, Like swan that sings her own sad story, Ere she floats in death away. 

 The day declines. --What splendid dyes, In flicker'd waves of crimson driven, Float o'er the saffron sea, that lies Glowing within the western heaven! Ah, it is a peerless even! See, the broad red sun has set, But his rays are quivering yet Through nature's veil of violet, Streaming bright o'er lake and hill; But earth and forest lie so still-- We start, and check the rising tear, 'Tis beauty sleeping on her bier. 

LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS

VERSUS THE BUSH

CHAPTER I

Belleville

 "The land of our adoption claims Our highest powers, --our firmest trust-- May future ages blend our names With hers, when we shall sleep in dust. Land of our sons!--last-born of earth, A mighty nation nurtures thee; The first in moral power and worth, -- Long mayst thou boast her sovereignty!

 Union is strength, while round the boughs Of thine own lofty maple-tree; The threefold wreath of Britain flows, Twined with the graceful fleur-de-lis; A chaplet wreathed mid smiles and tears, In which all hues of glory blend; Long may it bloom for future years, And vigour to thy weakness lend. "

Year after year, during twenty years' residence in the colony, I hadindulged the hope of one day visiting the Falls of Niagara, and yearafter year, for twenty long years, I was doomed to disappointment. 

For the first ten years, my residence in the woods of Douro, my infantfamily, and last, not least, among the list of objections, that greatwant, --the want of money, --placed insuperable difficulties in the wayof my ever accomplishing this cherished wish of my heart. 

The hope, resigned for the present, was always indulged as a brightfuture--a pleasant day-dream--an event which at some unknown period, when happier days should dawn upon us, might take place; but which justnow was entirely out of the question. 

When the children were very importunate for a new book or toy, and I hadnot the means of gratifying them, I used to silence them by saying thatI would buy that and many other nice things for them when "our moneycart came home. "

During the next ten years, this all-important and anxiously anticipatedvehicle did not arrive. The children did not get their toys, and myjourney to Niagara was still postponed to an indefinite period. 

Like a true daughter of romance, I could not banish from my mindthe glorious ideal I had formed of this wonder of the world; butstill continued to speculate about the mighty cataract, that sublime"thunder of waters, " whose very name from childhood had beenmusic to my ears. 

Ah, Hope! what would life be, stripped of thy encouraging smiles, thatteach us to look behind the dark clouds of to-day for the golden beamsthat are to gild the morrow. To those who have faith in thy promises, the most extravagant fictions are possible; and the unreal becomesmaterial and tangible. The artist who placed thee upon the rock withan anchor for a leaning post, could never have experienced any of thyvagrant propensities. He should have invested thee with the rainbow ofIris, the winged feet of Mercury, and the upward pointing finger ofFaith; and as for thy footstool, it should be a fleecy white cloud, changing its form with the changing breeze. 

Yet this hope of mine, of one day seeing the Falls of Niagara, was, after all, a very enduring hope; for though I began to fear that itnever would be realized, yet, for twenty years, I never gave it upentirely; and Patience, who always sits at the feet of Hope, was atlength rewarded by her sister's consenting smile. 

During the past summer I was confined, by severe indisposition, almostentirely to the house. The obstinate nature of my disease baffledthe skill of a very clever medical attendant, and created alarm anduneasiness in my family: and I entertained small hopes of my ownrecovery. 

Dr. L---, as a last resource, recommended change of air and scene; aremedy far more to my taste than the odious drugs from which I had notderived the least benefit. Ill and languid as I was, Niagara once morerose before my mental vision, and I exclaimed, with a thrill of joy, "The time is come at last--I shall yet see it before I die. "

My dear husband was to be the companion of my long journey in searchof health. Our simple arrangements were soon made, and on the 7th ofSeptember we left Belleville in the handsome new steam-boat, "The Bay ofQuinte, " for Kingston. 

The afternoon was cloudless, the woods just tinged with their firstautumnal glow, and the lovely bay, and its fairy isles, never appearedmore enchanting in my eyes. Often as I had gazed upon it in storm andshine, its blue transparent waters seemed to smile upon me more lovinglythan usual. With affectionate interest I looked long and tenderly uponthe shores we were leaving. There stood my peaceful, happy home; thehaven of rest to which Providence had conducted me after the storms andtrials of many years. Within the walls of that small stone cottage, peeping forth from its screen of young hickory trees, I had left threedear children, --God only could tell whether we should ever meet on earthagain: I knew that their prayers would follow me on my long journey, and the cherub Hope was still at my side, to whisper of happy hours andrestored health and spirits. I blessed God, for the love of those youngkindred hearts, and for having placed their home in such a charminglocality. 

Next to the love of God, the love of nature may be regarded as thepurest and holiest feeling of the human breast. In the outward beauty ofhis creation, we catch a reflection of the divine image of the Creator, which refines the intellect, and lifts the soul upward to Him. Thisinnate perception of the beautiful, however, is confined to no rank orsituation, but is found in the most barren spots, and surrounded by themost unfavourable circumstances; wherever the sun shines and warms, orthe glory of the moon and stars can be seen at night, the children ofgenius will find a revelation of God in their beams. But there is nota doubt that those born and brought up among scenes of great naturalsublimity and beauty, imbibe this feeling in a larger degree, and theirminds are more easily imbued with the glorious colouring ofromance, --the inspired visions of the poet. 

Dear patient reader! whether of British or Canadian origin, as I wishto afford you all the amusement in my power, deign to accompany me onmy long journey. Allow me a woman's privilege of talking of all sortsof things by the way. Should I tire you with my desultory mode ofconversation, bear with me charitably, and take into account theinfirmities incidental to my gossiping sex and age. If I dwell too longupon some subjects, do not call me a bore, or vain and trifling, if Ipass too lightly over others. The little knowledge I possess, I impartfreely, and wish that it was more profound and extensive, for your sake. 

Come, and take your seat with me on the deck of the steamer; and as weglide over the waters of this beautiful Bay of Quinte, I will make youacquainted with every spot worthy of note along its picturesque shores. 

An English lady, writing to me not long ago, expressed her wearinessof my long stories about the country of my adoption, in the followingterms:--"Don't fill your letters to me with descriptions of Canada. Who, _in England_, thinks anything of _Canada!_"

Here the pride so common to the inhabitants of the favoured isles spokeout. This is perhaps excusable in those who boast that they belong to acountry that possesses, in an eminent degree, the attributes bestowedby old Jacob on his first-born, --"the excellency of dignity, and theexcellency of power. " But, to my own thinking, it savoured not a littleof arrogance, and still more of ignorance, in the fair writer; who, being a woman of talent, should have known better. A child is not a man, but his progress is regarded with more attention on that account; andhis future greatness is very much determined by the progress he makes inhis youth. 

To judge Canada by the same standard, she appears to be a giant for heryears, and well worthy the most serious contemplation. Many are theweary, overtasked minds in that great, wealthy, and powerful England, that turn towards this flourishing colony their anxious thoughts, andwould willingly exchange the golden prime of the mother country forthe healthy, vigorous young strength of this, her stalwart child, andconsider themselves only too happy in securing a home upon these freeand fertile shores. 

Be not discouraged, brave emigrant. Let Canada still remain the brightfuture in your mind, and hasten to convert your present day-dream intoreality. The time is not far distant when she shall be the theme of manytongues, and the old nations of the world will speak of her progresswith respect and admiration. Her infancy is past, she begins to feelher feet, to know her own strength, and see her way clearly through thewilderness. Child as you may deem her, she has already battled bravelyfor her own rights, and obtained the management of her own affairs. Heronward progress is certain. There is no _if_ in her case. Shepossesses within her own territory all the elements of futureprosperity, and _she must be great!_

The men who throng her marts, and clear her forests, are _workers_, not _dreamers_, --who have already realized Solomon's pithy proverb, "In all labour is profit;" and their industry has imbued them with aspirit of independence which cannot fail to make them a free andenlightened people. 

An illustration of the truth of what I advance, can be given in thepretty town we are leaving on the north side of the bay. I think youwill own with me that your eyes have seldom rested upon a spot morefavoured by Nature, or one that bids fairer to rise to great wealthand political importance. 

Sixty years ago, the spot that Belleville now occupies was in thewilderness; and its rapid, sparkling river and sunny upland slopes(which during the lapse of ages have formed a succession of banks to thesaid river), were only known to the Indian hunter and the white trader. 

Where you see those substantial stone wharfs, and the masts of thosevessels, unloading their valuable cargoes to replenish the stores ofthe wealthy merchants in the town, a tangled cedar swamp spread itsdark, unwholesome vegetation into the bay, completely covering withan impenetrable jungle those smooth verdant plains, now surroundedwith neat cottages and gardens. 

Of a bright summer evening (and when is a Canadian summer eveningotherwise?) those plains swarm with happy, healthy children, whoassemble there to pursue their gambols beyond the heat and dust of thetown; or to watch with eager eyes the young men of the place engagedin the manly old English game of cricket, with whom it is, in theirharmless boasting, "Belleville against Toronto-Cobourg; Kingston, thewhole world. "

The editor of a Kingston paper once had the barbarity to compare thesevaliant champions of the bat and ball to "singed cats--ugly to look at, but very devils to go. "

Our lads have never forgiven the insult; and should the said editor evershow his face upon their ground, they would kick him off with as littleceremony as they would a spent ball. 

On that high sandy ridge that overlooks the town eastward--where thetin roof of the Court House, a massy, but rather tasteless building, and the spires of four churches catch the rays of the sun--a tangledmaze of hazel bushes, and wild plum and cherry, once screened theIndian burying-ground, and the children of the red hunter sought forstrawberries among the long grass and wild flowers that flourishprofusely in that sandy soil. 

Would that you could stand with me on that lofty eminence and lookaround you! The charming prospect that spreads itself at your feetwould richly repay you for toiling up the hill. 

We will suppose ourselves standing among the graves in theburying-ground of the English church; the sunny heavens above us, theglorious waters of the bay, clasping in their azure belt three-fourthsof the landscape, and the quiet dead sleeping at our feet. 

The white man has so completely supplanted his red brother, that he hasappropriated the very spot that held his bones; and in a few years theirdust will mingle together, although no stone marks the grave where thered man sleeps. 

From this churchyard you enjoy the finest view of the town andsurrounding country; and, turn your eyes which way you will, they cannotfail to rest on some natural object of great interest and beauty. 

The church itself is but a homely structure; and has always been tome a great eyesore. It is to be regretted that the first inhabitantsof the place selected their best and most healthy building sitesfor the erection of places of worship. Churches and churchyardsoccupy the hills from whence they obtain their springs of freshwater, --and such delicious water! They do not at present feel anyill-consequences arising from this error of judgment; but the timewill come, as population increases, and the dead accumulate, whenthese burying-grounds, by poisoning the springs that flow throughthem, will materially injure the health of the living. 

The English church was built many years ago, partly of red brick burntin the neighbourhood, and partly of wood coloured red to make up thedeficiency of the costlier material. This seems a shabby saving, asabundance of brick-earth of the best quality abounds in the same hill, and the making of bricks forms a very lucrative and important craft toseveral persons in the town. 

Belleville was but a small settlement on the edge of the forest, scarcely deserving the name of a village, when this church first pointedits ugly tower towards heaven. Doubtless its founders thought they haddone wonders when they erected this humble looking place of worship;but now, when their descendants have become rich, and the village oflog-huts and frame buildings has grown into a populous, busy, thrivingtown, and this red, tasteless building is too small to accommodate itscongregation, it should no longer hold the height of the hill, but giveplace to a larger and handsomer edifice. 

Behold its Catholic brother on the other side of the road; how much itselegant structure and graceful spire adds to the beauty of the scene. Yet the funds for rearing that handsome building, which is such anornament to the town, were chiefly derived from small subscriptions, drawn from the earnings of mechanics, day-labourers, and femaleservants. If the Church of England were supported throughout the colony, on the voluntary principle, we should soon see fine stone churches, likeSt. Michael, replacing these decaying edifices of wood, and the outcryabout the ever-vexed question of the Clergy Reserves, would be merged inher increased influence and prosperity. 

The deep-toned, sonorous bell, that fills the steeple of the Catholicchurch, which cost, I have been told, seven hundred pounds, and wasbrought all the way from Spain, was purchased by the voluntary donationsof the congregation. This bell is remarkable for its fine tone, whichcan be heard eight miles into the country, and as far as the village ofNorthport, eleven miles distant, on the other side of the bay. There isa solemn grandeur in the solitary voice of the magnificent bell, as itbooms across the valley in which the town lies, and reverberates amongthe distant woods and hills, which has a very imposing effect. 

A few years ago the mechanics in the town entered into an agreement thatthey would only work from six to six during the summer months, and fromseven till five in the winter, and they offered to pay a certain sum tothe Catholic church for tolling the bell at the said hours. The Catholicworkmen who reside in or near the town, adhere strictly to this rule, and, if the season is ever so pressing, they obstinately refuse to workbefore or after the stated time. I have seen, on our own little farm, the mower fling down his scythe in the swathe, and the harvest-man hissickle in the ridge, the moment the bell tolled for six. 

In fact, the bell in this respect is looked upon as a great nuisance;and the farmers in the country refuse to be guided by it in the hoursallotted for field labour; as they justly remark that the best time forhard work in a hot country is before six in the morning, and after theheat of the day in the evening. 

When the bell commences to toll there is a long pause between each ofthe first four strokes. This is to allow the pious Catholic time forcrossing himself and saying a short prayer. 

How much of the ideal mingles with this worship! No wonder that theIrish, who are such an imaginative people, should cling to it with suchveneration. Would any other creed suit them as well? It is a solemnthing to step into their churches, and witness the intensity of theirdevotions. Reason never raises a doubt to shake the oneness of theirfaith. They receive it on the credit of their priests, and theircredulity is as boundless as their ignorance. Often have I asked thepoor Catholics in my employ why such and such days were holy days? Theycould seldom tell me, but said that "the priest told them to keep themholy, and to break them would be a deadly sin. "

I cannot but respect their child-like trust, and the reverence they feelfor their spiritual teachers; nor could I ever bring myself to believethat a conscientious Catholic was in any danger of rejection fromthe final bar. He has imposed upon himself a heavier yoke than theSaviour kindly laid upon him, and has enslaved himself with a thousandsuperstitious observances which to us appear absurd; but his sincerityshould awaken in us an affectionate interest in his behalf, not engenderthe bitter hatred which at present forms an adamantine barrier betweenus. If the Protestant would give up a little of his bigotry, and theCatholic a part of his superstition, and they would consent to meet eachother half way, as brothers of one common manhood, inspired by the sameChristian hope, and bound to the same heavenly country, we should nolonger see the orange banner flaunting our streets on the twelfth ofJuly, and natives of the same island provoking each other to acts ofviolence and bloodshed. 

These hostile encounters are of yearly occurrence in the colony, andare justly held in abhorrence by the pious and thinking portion of thepopulation of either denomination. The government has for many yearsvainly endeavoured to put them down, but they still pollute with theirmoral leprosy the free institutions of the country, and effectuallyprevent any friendly feeling which might grow up between the members ofthese rival and hostile creeds. 

In Canada, where all religions are tolerated, it appears a uselessaggravation of an old national grievance to perpetuate the memory of thebattle of the Boyne. What have we to do with the hatreds and animositiesof a more barbarous age. These things belong to the past: "Let the deadbury their dead, " and let us form for ourselves a holier and truerpresent. The old quarrel between Irish Catholics and Protestants shouldhave been sunk in the ocean when they left their native country to finda home, unpolluted by the tyrannies of bygone ages, in the wilds ofCanada. 

The larger portion of our domestics are from Ireland, and, as far asmy experience goes, I have found the Catholic Irish as faithful andtrustworthy as the Protestants. The tendency to hate belongs to therace, not to the religion, or the Protestant would not exhibit the samevindictive spirit which marks his Catholic brother. They break anddestroy more than the Protestants, but that springs from the recklesscarelessness of their character more than from any malice againsttheir employers, if you may judge by the bad usage they give their ownhousehold goods and tools. The principle on which they live is literallyto care as little as possible for the things of to-day, and to take nothought at all for the morrow. 

"Shure, Ma'am, it can be used, " said an Irish girl to me, after breakingthe spout out of an expensive china jug, "It is not a hair the worse!"She could not imagine that a mutilated object could occasion the leastdiscomfort to those accustomed to order and neatness in their householdarrangements. 

The Irish female servants are remarkably chaste in their language anddeportment. You are often obliged to find fault with them for gross actsof neglect and wastefulness, but never for using bad language. They mayspoil your children by over-indulgence, but they never corrupt theirmorals by loose conversation. 

An Irish girl once told me, with beautiful simplicity, "that every badword a woman uttered, made the blessed Virgin _blush_. "

A girl becoming a mother before marriage is regarded as a dreadfulcalamity by her family, and she seldom, if ever, gets one of her owncountrymen to marry her with this stain on her character. 

How different is the conduct of the female peasantry in the easterncounties of England, who unblushingly avow their derelictions from thepaths of virtue. The crime of infanticide, so common there, is almostunknown among the Irish. If the priest and the confessional are able torestrain the lower orders from the commission of gross crime, who shallsay that they are without their use? It is true that the priest oftenexercises his power over his flock in a manner which would appear to aProtestant to border on the ludicrous. 

A girl who lived with a lady of my acquaintance, gave the followinggraphic account of an exhortation delivered by the priest at the altar. I give it in her own words:--

"Shure, Ma'am, we got a great scould from the praste the day. " "Indeed, Biddy, what did he scold you for?" "Faix, and it's not meself that hescoulded at all, at all, but Misther Peter N--- and John L---, an' heheld them up as an example to the whole church. 'Peter N---' says he, 'you have not been inside this church before to-day for the last threemonths, and you have not paid your pew-rent for the last two years. But, maybe, you have got the fourteen dollars in your pocket at this momentof spaking; or maybe you have spint it in buying pig-iron to makegridirons, in order to fry your mate of a Friday; and when your prastecomes to visit you, if he does not see it itself, he smells it. And you, John L---, Alderman L---, are not six days enough in the week for workand pastime, that you must go hunting of hares on a holiday? And prayhow many hares did you catch, Alderman John?'"

The point of the last satire lay in the fact that the said Alderman Johnwas known to be an ambitious, but very poor, sportsman; which made theallusion to the _hares_ he had shot the unkindest cut of all. 

Such an oration from a Protestant minister would have led hiscongregation to imagine that their good pastor had lost his wits; butI have no doubt that it was eminently successful in abstracting thefourteen dollars from the pocket of the dilatory Peter N---, and inpreventing Alderman John from hunting hares on a holiday for the timeto come. 

Most of the Irish priests possess a great deal of humour, which alwaysfinds a response in their mirth-loving countrymen, to whom wit is aquality of native growth. 

"I wish you a happy death, Pat S---, " said Mr. R---, the jolly, black-browed priest of P---, after he had married an old servant ofours, who had reached the patriarchal age of sixty-eight, to an oldwoman of seventy. 

"D--- clear of it!" quoth Pat, smiting his thigh, with a look ofinimitable drollery, --such a look of broad humour as can alone twinklefrom the eyes of an emeralder of that class. Pat was a prophet; in lessthan six months he brought the body of the youthful bride in a waggon tothe house of the said priest to be buried, and, for aught I know to thecontrary, the old man is living still, and very likely to treat himselfto a third wife. 

I was told two amusing anecdotes of the late Bishop Macdonald; a manwhose memory is held in great veneration in the province, which I willgive you here. 

The old bishop was crossing the Rice Lake in a birch bark canoe, incompany with Mr. R---, the Presbyterian minister of Peterboro'; the daywas rather stormy, and the water rough for such a fragile conveyance. The bishop, who had been many years in the country, knew there waslittle danger to be apprehended if they sat still, and he had perfectreliance in the skill of their Indian boatman. Not so Mr. R---, he hadonly been a few months in the colony, and this was the first time he hadever ventured upon the water in such a tottleish machine. Instead ofremaining quietly seated in the bottom of the canoe, he endeavouredto start to his feet, which would inevitably have upset it. This rashmovement was prevented by the bishop, who forcibly pulled him down intoa sitting posture, exclaiming, as he did so, "Keep still, my good sir;if you, by your groundless fears, upset the canoe, your protestantfriends will swear that the old papist drowned the presbyterian. "

One hot, sultry July evening, the celebrated Dr. Dunlop called to have achat with the bishop, who, knowing the doctor's weak point, his fondnessfor strong drinks, and his almost rabid antipathy to water, asked him ifhe would take a draught of Edinburgh ale, as he had just received a caskin a present from the old country. The doctor's thirst grew to a perfectdrought, and he exclaimed that nothing at that moment could afford himgreater pleasure. 

The bell was rung; the spruce, neat servant girl appeared, and wasforthwith commissioned to take the bishop's own silver tankard anddraw the thirsty doctor a pint of ale. 

The girl quickly returned: the impatient doctor grasped the nectariandraught, and, without glancing into the tankard--for the time

 "Was that soft hour 'twixt summer's eve and close, "--

emptied the greater part of its contents down his throat. A spasmodiccontortion and a sudden rush to the open window surprised the hospitablebishop, who had anticipated a great treat for his guest: "My dear sir, "he cried, "what can be the matter!"

"Oh, that diabolical stuff!" groaned the doctor. "I am poisoned. "

"Oh, never fear, " said the bishop, examining the liquid that stillremained in the tankard, and bursting into a hearty laugh, "It may notagree with a Protestant's stomach, but believe me, dear doctor, younever took such a wholesome drink in your life before. I was lately sentfrom Rome a cask of holy water, --it stands in the same cellar with theale, --I put a little salt into it, in order to preserve it during thishot weather, and the girl, by mistake, has given you the consecratedwater instead of the ale. "

"Oh, curse her!" cried the tortured doctor. "I wish it was in herstomach instead of mine!"

The bishop used to tell this story with great glee whenever Dr. Dunlopand his eccentric habits formed the theme of conversation. 

That the Catholics do not always act with hostility towards theirProtestant brethren, the following anecdote, which it gives me greatpleasure to relate, will sufficiently show:--

In the December of 1840 we had the misfortune to be burnt out, and losta great part of our furniture, clothing, and winter stores. Poor as we_then_ were, this could not be regarded in any other light but as agreat calamity. During the confusion occasioned by the fire, and, owingto the negligence of a servant to whose care he was especially confided, my youngest child, a fine boy of two years old, was for some timemissing. The agony I endured for about half an hour I shall neverforget. The roaring flames, the impending misfortune that hung over us, was forgotten in the terror that shook my mind lest he had become avictim to the flames. He was at length found by a kind neighbour in thekitchen of the burning building, whither he had crept from among thecrowd, and was scarcely rescued before the roof fell in. 

This circumstance shook my nerves so completely that I gladly acceptedthe offer of a female friend to leave the exciting scene, and make herhouse my home until we could procure another. 

I was sitting at her parlour window, with the rescued child on my lap, whom I could not bear for a moment out of my sight, watching the smokingbrands that had once composed my home, and sadly pondering over ouruntoward destiny, when Mrs. ---'s servant told me that a gentlemanwanted to see me in the drawing-room. 

With little Johnnie still in my arms I went to receive the visitor; andfound the Rev. Father B---, the worthy Catholic priest, waiting toreceive me. 

At that time I knew very little of Father B---. Calls had beenexchanged, and we had been much pleased with his courteous manners andracy Irish wit. I shall never forget the kind, earnest manner in whichhe condoled with me on our present misfortune. He did not, however, confine his sympathy to words, but offered me the use of his neatcottage until we could provide ourselves with another house. 

"You know, " he said, with a benevolent smile, "I have no family to bedisturbed by the noise of the children; and if you will accept thetemporary home I offer you, it is entirely at your service; and, " hecontinued, lowering his voice, "if the sheriff is in want of money toprocure necessaries for his family, I can supply him until such time ashe is able to repay me. "

This was truly noble, and I thanked him with tears in my eyes. We didnot accept the generous offer of this good Samaritan; but we have alwaysfelt a grateful remembrance of his kindness. Mr. B--- had been one ofthe most active among the many gentlemen who did their best in trying tosave our property from the flames, a great portion of which was safelyconveyed to the street. But here a system of pillage was carried onby the heartless beings, who regard fires and wreck as their especialharvest, which entirely frustrated the efforts of the generous and bravemen who had done so much to help us. 

How many odd things happen during a fire, which would call up a heartylaugh upon a less serious occasion. I saw one man pitch a handsomechamber-glass out of an upper window into the street, in order to_save_ it; while another, at the risk of his life, carried abottomless china jug, which had long been useless, down the burningstaircase, and seemed quite elated with his success; and a carpentertook off the doors, and removed the window-sashes, in order to preservethem, and, by sending a rush of air through the burning edifice, accelerated its destruction. 

At that time there was only one fire engine in the town, and that wasnot in a state to work. Now they have two excellent engines, worked byan active and energetic body of men. 

In all the principal towns and cities in the colony, a large portion ofthe younger male inhabitants enrol themselves into a company for thesuppression of fire. It is a voluntary service, from which they receiveno emolument, without an exemption from filling the office of a jurymanmay be considered as an advantage. These men act upon a principle ofmutual safety; and the exertions which are made by them, in the hour ofdanger, are truly wonderful, and serve to show what can be effected bymen when they work in unison together. 

To the Canadian fire-companies the public is indebted for thepreservation of life and property by a thousand heroic acts; deeds, thatwould be recorded as surprising efforts of human courage, if performedupon the battlefield; and which often exhibit an exalted benevolence, when exercised in rescuing helpless women and children from such adreadful enemy as fire. 

The costume adopted by the firemen is rather becoming than otherwise;--atight-fitting frock-coat of coarse red cloth, and white trousers insummer, which latter portion of their dress is exchanged for dark bluein the winter. They wear a glazed black leather cap, of a military cut, when they assemble to work their engines, or walk in procession; and aleather hat like a sailor's nor-wester, with a long peak behind, toprotect them from injury, when on active duty. 

Their members are confined to no particular class. Gentlemen andmechanics work side by side in this fraternity, with a zeal and rightgood will that is truly edifying. Their system appears an excellentone; and I never heard of any dissension among their ranks when theirservices were required. The sound of the ominous bell calls them to thespot, from the greatest distance; and, during the most stormy nights, whoever skulks in bed, the fireman is sure to be at his post. 

Once a year, the different divisions of the company walk in processionthrough the town. On this occasion their engines are dressed up withflags bearing appropriate mottoes; and they are preceded by a band ofmusic. The companies are generally composed of men in the very prime oflife, and they make a very imposing appearance. It is always a greatgala day in the town, and terminates with a public dinner; that isfollowed by a ball in the evening, at which the wives and daughters ofthe members of the company are expected to appear. 

Once a month the firemen are called out to practise with the enginein the streets, to the infinite delight of all the boys in theneighbourhood, who follow the engine in crowds, and provoke theoperators to turn the hose and play upon their merry ranks: and thenwhat laughing and shouting and scampering in all directions, as theragged urchins shake their dripping garments, and fly from the duckingthey had courted a few minutes before!

The number of wooden buildings that compose the larger portion ofCanadian towns renders fire a calamity of very frequent occurrence, andpersons cannot be too particular in regard to it. The negligence of oneignorant servant in the disposal of her ashes, may involve the safetyof the whole community. 

As long as the generality of the houses are roofed with shingles, thisliability to fire must exist as a necessary consequence. 

The shingle is a very thin pine-board, which is used throughout thecolony instead of slate or tiles. After a few years, the heat and rainroughen the outward surface, and give it a woolly appearance, renderingthe shingles as inflammable as tinder. A spark from a chimney may beconveyed from a great distance on a windy day, and lighting upon thefurry surface of these roofs, is sure to ignite. The danger spreads onall sides, and the roofs of a whole street will be burning before thefire communicates to the walls of the buildings. 

So many destructive fires have occurred of late years throughout thecolony that a law has been enacted by the municipal councils to preventthe erection of wooden buildings in the large cities. But without theadditional precaution of fire-proof roofs, the prohibition will notproduce very beneficial effects. 

Two other very pretty churches occupy the same hill with the Catholicsand Episcopal, --the Scotch Residuary, and the Free Church. The latteris built of dark limestone, quarried in the neighbourhood, and is aremarkably graceful structure. It has been raised by the hearty goodwilland free donations of its congregation, and affords another capitalillustration of the working of the voluntary principle. 

To the soul-fettering doctrines of John Calvin I am myself no convert;nor do I think that the churches established on his views will very longexist in the world. Stern, uncompromising, unloveable and unloved, anobject of fear rather than of affection, John Calvin stands out theincarnation of his own Deity; verifying one of the noblest and truestsentences ever penned by man:--"As the man, so his God. God is his ideaof excellence, the compliment of his own being. "

The Residuary church is a small neat building of wood, painted white. For several years after the great split in the National Church ofScotland, it was shut up, the few who still adhered to the old way beingunable to contribute much to the support of a minister. The church hasbeen reopened within the last two years, and, though the congregationis very small, has a regular pastor. 

The large edifice beneath us, in Pinacle street, leading to the bay, isthe Wesleyan Methodist church, or chapel, as it would be termed at home. Thanks to the liberal institutions of the country, such distinctions areunknown in Canada. Every community of Christian worshippers is rightlytermed a church. The Church is only arrogated by one. 

The Wesleyans, who have been of infinite use in spreading the Gospel onthe North American continent, possess a numerous and highly respectablecongregation in this place. Their church is always supplied with goodand efficient preachers, and is filled on the Sabbath to overflowing. They have a very fine choir, and lately purchased an organ, which wasconstructed by one of their own members, a genius in his way, for whichthey gave the handsome sum of a thousand dollars. 

There is also an Episcopal Methodist church, composed of red brick, atthe upper end of the town, by the river side, which is well attended. 

You can scarcely adopt a better plan of judging of the wealth andprosperity of a town, than by watching, of a Sabbath morning, thecongregations of the different denominations going to church. Belleville weekly presents to the eye of an observing spectator alarge body of well-dressed, happy-looking people, --robust, healthy, independent-looking men, and well-formed, handsome women;--an air ofcontent and comfort resting upon their comely faces, --no look of haggardcare and pinching want marring the quiet solemnity of the scene. 

The dress of the higher class is not only cut in the newest Frenchfashion, imported from New York, but is generally composed of rich andexpensive materials. The Canadian lady dresses well and tastefully, andcarries herself easily and gracefully. She is not unconscious of theadvantages of a pretty face and figure; but her knowledge of the fact isnot exhibited in an affected or disagreeable manner. The lower class arenot a whit behind their wealthier neighbours in outward adornments. Andthe poor emigrant, who only a few months previously had landed in rags, is now dressed neatly and respectably. The consciousness of theirnewly-acquired freedom has raised them in the scale of society, in theirown estimation, and in that of their fellows. They feel that they areno longer despised; the ample wages they receive has enabled them tocast off the slough of hopeless poverty, which once threw its deadeninginfluence over them, repressing all their energies, and destroyingthat self-respect which is so necessary to mental improvement andself-government, The change in their condition is apparent in theirsmiling, satisfied faces. 

This is, indeed, a delightful contrast to the squalid want and povertywhich so often meet the eye and pain the heart of the philanthropist athome. Canada is blessed in the almost total absence of pauperism; fornone but the wilfully idle and vicious need starve here, while the wantsof the sick and infirm meet with ready help and sympathy from a mostcharitable public. 

The Wesleyan Methodists wisely placed their burying-ground at somedistance from the town; and when we first came to reside at Belleville, it was a retired and lovely spot, on the Kingston road, commanding afine view of the bay. The rapid spread of the village into a town almostembraces in its arms this once solitary spot, and in a few years it willbe surrounded with suburban residences. There is a very large brickfield adjoining this cemetery, which employs during the summer monthsa number of hands. 

Turn to the north, and observe that old-fashioned, red-brick house, nowtottering to decay, that crowns the precipitous ridge that overlooksthe river, and which doubtless at some very distant period once formedits right bank. That house was built by one of the first settlers inBelleville, an officer who drew his lot of wild land on that spot. Itwas a great house in those days, and he was a great man in the eyes ofhis poorer neighbours. 

This gentleman impoverished himself and his family by supplying fromhis own means the wants of the poor emigrants in his vicinity duringthe great Canadian famine, which happened about fifty years ago. Thestarving creatures promised to repay him at some future period. Plentyagain blessed the land; but the generous philanthropist was forgottenby those his bounty had saved. Peace to his memory! Though unrewardedon earth, he has doubtless reaped his reward in heaven. 

The river Moira, which runs parallel with the main street of the town, and traverses several fine townships belonging to the county of Hastingsin its course to the bay, is a rapid and very picturesque stream. Itsrocky banks, which are composed of limestone, are fringed with thegraceful cedar, soft maple, and elegant rock elm, that queen of theCanadian forest. It is not navigable, but is one great source of thewealth and prosperity of the place, affording all along its courseexcellent sites for mills, distilleries, and factories, while it is themain road down which millions of feet of timber are yearly floated, tobe rafted at the entrance of the bay. 

The spring floods bring down such a vast amount of lumber, that often ajam, as it is technically called, places the two bridges that span theriver in a state of blockade. 

It is a stirring and amusing scene to watch the French Canadianlumberers, with their long poles, armed at the end with sharp spikes, leaping from log to log, and freeing a passage for the crowded timbers. 

Handsome in person, and lithe and active as wild cats, you wouldimagine, to watch their careless disregard of danger, that they wereborn of the waters, and considered death by drowning an impossiblecasualty in their case. Yet never a season passes without fatalaccidents thinning their gay, light-hearted ranks. 

These amphibious creatures spend half their lives in and on the waters. They work hard in forming rafts at the entrance of the bay during theday, and in the evening they repair to some favourite tavern, wherethey spend the greater part of the night in singing and dancing. Theirpeculiar cries awaken you by day-break, and their joyous shouts andsongs are wafted on the evening breeze. Their picturesque dress andshanties, when shown by their red watch-fires along the rocky banks ofthe river at night, add great liveliness, and give a peculiarly romanticcharacter to the water scene. 

They appear a happy, harmless set of men, brave and independent; and ifdrinking and swearing are vices common to their caste and occupation, it can scarcely be wondered at in the wild, reckless, roving life theylead. They never trouble the peaceful inhabitants of the town. Theirbroils are chiefly confined to their Irish comrades, and seldom gobeyond the scene of their mutual labour. It is not often that they findtheir way into the jail or penitentiary. 

A young lady told me an adventure that befell her and her sister, whichis rather a droll illustration of the manners of a French Canadianlumberer. They were walking one fine summer evening along the west bankof the Moira, and the narrator, in stooping over the water to gathersome wild-flowers that grew in a crevice of the rocks, dropped herparasol into the river. A cry of vexation at the loss of an article ofdress, which is expensive, and almost indispensable beneath the rays ofa Canadian summer sun, burst from her lips, and attracted the attentionof a young man whom she had not before observed, who was swimming atsome distance down the river. He immediately turned, and dexterouslycatching the parasol as it swiftly glided past him, swam towards theladies with the rescued article, carried dog-fashion, between his teeth. 

In his zeal to render this little service, the poor fellow forgot thathe was not in a condition to appear before ladies; who, startled at suchan extraordinary apparition, made the best of their heels to flyprecipitately from the spot. 

"I have no doubt, " said Miss ---, laughing, "that the good-naturedfellow meant well, but I never was so frightened and confounded in mylife. " The next morning the parasol was returned at the street door, with "Jean Baptiste's compliments to the young ladies. " So much forFrench Canadian gallantry. 

It is a pretty sight. A large raft of timber, extending perhaps for aquarter of a mile, gliding down the bay in tow of a steamer, decoratedwith red flags and green pine boughs, and managed by a set of boldactive fellows, whose jovial songs waken up the echoes of the lonelywoods. I have seen several of these rafts, containing many thousandpounds worth of timber, taking their downward course in one day. 

The centre of the raft is generally occupied by a shanty and cookingapparatus, and at night it presents an imposing spectacle, seen by thered light of their fires, as it glides beneath the shadow of some loftybank, with its dark overhanging trees. I have often coveted a sail onthose picturesque rafts, over those smooth moonlighted waters. 

The spring-floods bring with them a great quantity of waste timber andfallen trees from the interior; and it is amusing to watch the poorIrishwomen and children wading to the waist in the water, and drawingout these waifs and strays with hooked sticks, to supply their shantieswith fuel. It is astonishing how much an industrious lad can secure ina day of this refuse timber. No gleaner ever enters a harvest-fieldin Canada to secure a small portion of the scattered grain; but thefloating treasures which the waters yield are regarded as a providentialsupply of firing, which is always gathered in. These spring-floods areoften productive of great mischief, as they not infrequently carry awayall the dams and bridges along their course. This generally happensafter an unusually severe winter, accompanied with very heavy falls ofsnow. 

The melting of the snows in the back country, by filling all thetributary creeks and streams, converts the larger rivers into headlongand destructive torrents, that rush and foam along with "curblessforce, " carrying huge blocks of ice and large timbers, like feathersupon their surface. 

It is a grand and beautiful sight, the coming down of the waters duringone of these spring freshets. The river roars and rages like a chafedlion; and frets and foams against its rocky barrier, as if determined toovercome every obstacle that dares to impede its furious course. Greatblocks of ice are seen popping up and down in the boiling surges; andunwieldy saw-logs perform the most extravagant capers, often startingbolt upright; while their crystal neighbours, enraged at the uncourteouscollision, turn up their glittering sea-green edges with an air ofdefiance, and tumble about in the current like mad monsters of the deep. 

The blocks of ice are sometimes lifted entirely out of the water by theforce of the current, and deposited upon the top of the bank, where theyform an irregular wall of glass, glittering and melting leisurely in theheat of the sun. 

A stranger who had not witnessed their upheaval, might well wonder bywhat gigantic power they had been placed there. 

In March, 1844, a severe winter was terminated by a very sudden thaw, accompanied by high winds and deluges of rain. In a few days the snowwas all gone, and every slope and hill was converted into a drain, downwhich the long-imprisoned waters rushed continuously to the river. Theroads were almost impassable, and, on the 12th of the month, the riverrose to an unusual height, and completely filled its rocky banks. The floods brought down from the interior a great jam of ice, which, accumulating in size and altitude at every bridge and dam it had carriedaway in its course towards the bay, was at length arrested in itsprogress at the lower bridge, where the ice, though sunk several feetbelow the rushing waters, still adhered firmly to the shore. Vast piecesof ice were piled up against the abutments of the bridge, which themountain of ice threatened to annihilate, as well as to inundate thelower end of the town. 

It presented to the eager and excited crowd, who, in spite of theimpending danger rushed to the devoted bridge, a curious and formidablespectacle. Imagine, dear reader, a huge mass, composed of blocks of ice, large stones, and drift timber, occupying the centre of the river, andextending back for a great distance; the top on a level with the roofsof the houses. The inhabitants of the town had everything to dread fromsuch a gigantic battering-ram applied to their feeble wooden bridge. 

A consultation was held by the men assembled on the bridge, and it wasthought that the danger might be averted by sawing asunder the ice, which still held firm, and allowing a free passage for the blocks thatimpeded the bridge. 

The river was soon covered with active men, armed with axes and poles, some freeing the ice at the arch of the bridge, others attempting topush the iceberg nearer to the shore, where, if once stranded, it wouldmelt at leisure. If the huge pile of mischief could have found a voice, it would have laughed at their fruitless endeavours. 

While watching the men at their dangerous, and, as it proved afterwards, hopeless work, we witnessed an act of extraordinary courage and presenceof mind in two brothers, blacksmiths in the town. One of these youngmen was busy cutting away the ice just above the bridge, when quiteunexpectedly the piece on which he was standing gave way, and he wascarried with the speed of thought under the bridge. His death appearedinevitable. But quick as his exit was from the exciting scene, the lovein the brother's heart was as quick in taking measures for his safety. As the ice on which the younger lad stood parted, the elder sprang intothe hollow box of wood which helped to support the arch of the bridge, and which was filled with great stones. As the torrent swept his brotherpast him and under the bridge, the drowning youth gave a spring from theice on which he still stood, and the other bending at the instant fromhis perch above, caught him by the collar, and lifted him bodily fromhis perilous situation. All was the work of a moment; yet the spectatorsheld their breath, and wondered as they saw. It was an act of bolddaring on the one hand, of cool determined courage on the other. It wasa joyful sight to see the rescued lad in his brave brother's arms. 

All day we watched from the bridge the hill of ice, wondering when itwould take a fresh start, and if it would carry away the bridge when itleft its present position. Night came down, and the unwelcome visitantremained stationary. The air was cold and frosty. There was no moon, andthe spectators were reluctantly forced to retire to their respectivehomes. Between the watches of the night we listened to the roaring ofthe river, and speculated upon the threatened destruction. By daybreakmy eager boys were upon the spot, to ascertain the fate of the bridge. All was grim and silent. The ice remained like a giant slumbering uponhis post. 

So passed the greater part of the day. Curiosity was worn out. Thecrowd began to disperse, disappointed that the ruin they anticipatedhad not taken place; just as some persons are sorry when a fire, which has caused much alarm by its central position in a town or city, is extinguished, without burning down a single house. The love ofexcitement drowns for a time the better feelings of humanity. They don'twish any person to suffer injury; but they give up the grand spectaclethey had expected to witness with regret. 

At four o'clock in the afternoon most of the wonder-watchers hadretired, disgusted with the tardy movements of the ice monster, when acry arose from the banks of the river, to warn the few persons who stillloitered on the bridge, to look out. The ice was in motion. Every onewithin hearing rushed to the river. We happened to be passing at thetime, and, like the rest, hurried to the spot. The vast pile, slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to advance, giving an irresistible impulseto the shore ice, that still held good, and which was instantlycommunicated to the large pieces that blocked the arch of the bridge, over which the waves now poured in a torrent, pushing before them thegreat lumps which up to the present moment had been immoveably wedged. There was a hollow, gurgling sound, a sullen roar of waters, a crackingand rending of the shore-bound ice, and the ponderous mass smote thebridge; it parted asunder, and swift as an arrow the crystal mountainglided downwards to the bay, spurning from its base the waves thatleaped and foamed around its path, and pouring them in a flood of watersover the west bank of the river. 

Beyond the loss of a few old sheds along the shore, very little damagewas sustained by the town. The streets near the wharfs were inundatedfor a few hours, and the cellars filled with water; but after the exitof the iceberg, the river soon subsided into its usual channel. 

The winter of 1852 was one of great length and severity. The snow inmany of the roads was level with the top rail of the fences, and thespring thaw caused heavy freshets through the colony. In the upper partof the province, particularly on the grand river, the rising of thewaters destroyed a large amount of valuable mill property. Onemill-owner lost 12, 000 saw logs. Our wild, bright Moira was swollen tothe brim, and tumbled along with the impetuosity of a mountain torrent. Its course to the bay was unimpeded by ice, which had been all carriedout a few days before by a high wind; but vast quantities of saw logsthat had broken away from their bosoms in the interior were plunging inthe current, sometimes starting bolt upright, or turning over and over, as if endued with the spirit of life, as well as with that of motion. 

Several of these heavy timbers had struck the upper bridge, and carriedaway the centre arch. A poor cow, who was leisurely pacing over to hershed and supper, was suddenly precipitated into the din of waters. Hadit been the mayor of the town, the accident could scarcely have produceda greater excitement. The cow belonged to a poor Irishman, and thesympathy of every one was enlisted in her fate. Was it possible that shecould escape drowning amid such a mad roar of waves? No human arm couldstem for a moment such a current; but fortunately for our heroine, shewas not human, but only a stupid quadruped. 

The cow for a few seconds seemed bewildered at the strange situation inwhich she found herself so unexpectedly placed. But she was wise enoughand skilful enough to keep her head above water, and she cleared twomill-dams before she became aware of the fact; and she accommodatedherself to her critical situation with a stoical indifference whichwould have done credit to an ancient philosopher. After passing unhurtover the dams, the spectators who crowded the lower bridges to watchthe result, began to entertain hopes for her life. 

The bridges are in a direct line, and about half a mile apart. On camethe cow, making directly for the centre arch of the bridge on which westood. She certainly neither swam, nor felt her feet, but was bornealong by the force of the stream. 

"My eyes! I wish I could swim as well as that ere cow, " cried an excitedboy, leaping upon the top of the bridge. 

"I guess you do, " said another. "But that's a game cow. There's no boyin the town could beat her. "

"She will never pass the arch of the bridge, " said a man, sullenly;"she will be killed against the abutment. "

"Jolly! she's through the arch!" shouted the first speaker. "Pat hassaved his cow!"

"She's not ashore yet, " returned the man. "And she begins to flag. "

"Not a bit of it, " cried the excited boy. "The old daisy-cropper looksas fresh as a rose. Hurrah, boys! let us run down to the wharf, and seewhat becomes of her. "

Off scampered the juveniles; and on floated the cow, calm andself-possessed in the midst of danger. After passing safely through thearch of the bridge, she continued to steer herself out of the current, and nearer to the shore, and finally effected a landing in Front-street, where she quietly walked on shore, to the great admiration of theyoungsters, who received her with rapturous shouts of applause. One ladseized her by the tail, another grasped her horns, while a third pattedher dripping neck, and wished her joy of her safe landing. Not Venusherself, when she rose from the sea, attracted more enthusiasticadmirers than did the poor Irishman's cow. A party, composed of all theboys in the place, led her in triumph through the streets, and restoredher to her rightful owner, not forgetting to bestow upon her threehearty cheers at parting. 

A little black boy, the only son of a worthy negro, who had been asettler for many years in Belleville, was not so fortunate as theIrishman's cow. He was pushed, it is said accidentally, from the brokenbridge, by a white boy of his own age, into that hell of waters, and itwas many weeks before his body was found; it had been carried some milesdown the bay by the force of the current. Day after day you might seehis unhappy father, armed with a long pole, with a hook attached to it, mournfully pacing the banks of the swollen river, in the hope ofrecovering the remains of his lost child. Once or twice we stopped tospeak to him, but his heart was too full to answer. He would turn away, with the tears rolling down his sable cheeks, and resume his melancholytask. 

What a dreadful thing is this prejudice against race and colour! How ithardens the heart, and locks up all the avenues of pity! The prematuredeath of this little negro excited less interest in the breasts of hiswhite companions than the fate of the cow, and was spoken of with aslittle concern as the drowning of a pup or a kitten. 

Alas! this river Moira has caused more tears to flow from the eyes ofheart-broken parents than any stream of the like size in the province. Heedless of danger, the children will resort to its shores, and playupon the timbers that during the summer months cover its surface. Oftenhave I seen a fine child of five or six years old, astride of a saw-log, riding down the current, with as much glee as if it were a real steed hebestrode. If the log turns, which is often the case, the child stands agreat chance of being drowned. 

Oh, agony unspeakable! The writer of this lost a fine talented boy ofsix years--one to whom her soul clave--in those cruel waters. But Iwill not dwell upon that dark hour, the saddest and darkest in my sadeventful life. Many years ago, when I was a girl myself, my sympathieswere deeply excited by reading an account of the grief of a mother whohad lost her only child, under similar circumstances. How prophetic werethose lines of all that I suffered during that heavy bereavement!--

The Mother's Lament. 

 "Oh, cold at my feet thou wert sleeping, my boy, And I press on thy pale lips in vain the fond kiss! Earth opens her arms to receive thee, my joy, And all my past sorrows were nothing to this The day-star of hope 'neath thine eye-lid is sleeping, No more to arise at the voice of my weeping. 

 "Oh, how art thou changed, since the light breath of morning Dispersed the soft dewdrops in showers from the tree! Like a beautiful bud my lone dwelling adorning, Thy smiles call'd up feelings of rapture in me: I thought not the sunbeams all gaily that shone On thy waking, at night would behold me alone. 

 "The joy that flash'd out from thy death-shrouded eyes, That laugh'd in thy dimples, and brighten'd thy cheek, Is quench'd--but the smile on thy pale lip that lies, Now tells of a joy that no language can speak. The fountain is seal'd, the young spirit at rest, -- Oh, why should I mourn thee, my lov'd one--my blest!"

The anniversary of that fatal day gave birth to the following lines, with which I will close this long chapter:--

The Early Lost. 

 "The shade of death upon my threshold lay, The sun from thy life's dial had departed; A cloud came down upon thy early day, And left thy hapless mother broken-hearted-- My boy--my boy!

 "Long weary months have pass'd since that sad day, But naught beguiles my bosom of its sorrow; Since the cold waters took thee for their prey, No smiling hope looks forward to the morrow-- My boy--my boy!

 "The voice of mirth is silenced in my heart, Thou wert so dearly loved--so fondly cherish'd; I cannot yet believe that we must part, -- That all, save thine immortal soul, has perish'd-- My boy--my boy!

 "My lovely, laughing, rosy, dimpled, child, I call upon thee, when the sun shines clearest; In the dark lonely night, in accents wild, I breathe thy treasured name, my best and dearest-- My boy--my boy!

 "The hand of God has press'd me very sore-- Oh, could I clasp thee once more as of yore, And kiss thy glowing cheeks' soft velvet bloom, I would resign thee to the Almighty Giver Without one tear, --would yield thee up for ever, And people with bright forms thy silent tomb. But hope has faded from my heart--and joy Lies buried in thy grave, my darling boy!"

CHAPTER II

Local Improvements--Sketches of Society

 "Prophet spirit! rise and say, What in Fancy's glass you see-- A city crown this lonely bay? No dream--a bright reality. Ere half a century has roll'd Its waves of light away, The beauteous vision I behold Shall greet the rosy day; And Belleville view with civic pride Her greatness mirror'd in the tide. " S. M. 

The town of Belleville, in 1840, contained a population of 1, 500 souls, or thereabouts. The few streets it then possessed were chiefly composedof frame houses, put up in the most unartistic and irregular fashion, their gable ends or fronts turned to the street, as it suited the whimor convenience of the owner, without the least regard to taste orneatness. At that period there were only two stone houses and twoof brick in the place. One of these wonders of the village was thecourt-house and gaol; the other three were stores. The dwellings of thewealthier portion of the community were distinguished by a coat of whiteor yellow paint, with green or brown doors and window blinds; while thehouses of the poorer class retained the dull grey, which the plainboards always assume after a short exposure to the weather. 

In spite of the great beauty of the locality, it was but aninsignificant, dirty-looking place. The main street of the town(Front-street, as it is called) was only partially paved with roughslabs of limestone, and these were put so carelessly down that theiruneven edges, and the difference in their height and size, was painfulto the pedestrian, and destruction to his shoes, leading you to supposethat the paving committee had been composed of shoemakers. In springand fall the mud was so deep in the centre of the thoroughfare that itrequired you to look twice before you commenced the difficult task ofcrossing, lest you might chance to leave your shoes sticking fast in themud. This I actually saw a lady do one Sunday while crossing the churchhill. Belleville had just been incorporated as the metropolitan town ofthe Victoria District, and my husband presided as Sheriff in the firstcourt ever held in the place. 

Twelve brief years have made a wonderful, an almost miraculous, changein the aspect and circumstances of the town. A stranger, who had notvisited it during that period, could scarcely recognize it as thesame. It has more than doubled its dimensions, and its population hasincreased to upwards of 4, 500 souls. Handsome commodious stores, filledwith expensive goods from the mother country and the States, have risenin the place of the small dark frame buildings; and large hotels havejostled into obscurity the low taverns and groceries that once formedthe only places of entertainment. 

In 1840, a wooded swamp extended almost the whole way from Bellevilleto Cariff's Mills, a distance of three miles. The road was execrable;and only a few log shanties, or very small frame houses, occurred atintervals along the road-side. Now, Cariff's Mills is as large asBelleville was in 1840, and boasts of a population of upwards of 1000inhabitants. A fine plank road connects it with the latter place, andthe whole distance is one continuous street. Many of the houses by thewayside are pretty ornamental cottages, composed of brick or stone. Animmense traffic in flour and lumber is carried on at this place, and theplank road has proved a very lucrative speculation to the shareholders. 

In 1840, there was but one bank agency in Belleville, now there arefour, three of which do a great business. At that period we had nomarket, although Saturday was generally looked upon as the market-day;the farmers choosing it as the most convenient to bring to town theirfarm produce for sale. Our first market-house was erected in 1849; itwas built of wood, and very roughly finished. This proved but pooreconomy in the long run, as it was burnt down the succeeding year. A newand more commodious one of brick has been erected in its place, and itis tolerably supplied with meat and vegetables; but these articles areboth dearer and inferior in quality to those offered in Kingston andToronto. This, perhaps, is owing to the tardiness shown by the farmersin bringing in their produce, which they are obliged to offer first forsale in the market, or be subjected to a trifling fine. There is verylittle competition, and the butchers and town grocery-keepers have ittheir own way. A market is always a stirring scene. Here politics, commercial speculations, and the little floating gossip of the village, are freely talked over and discussed. To those who feel an interest inthe study of human nature, the market affords an ample field. Imagine aconversation like the following, between two decently dressed mechanics'wives:

"How are you, Mrs. G---?"

"Moderate, I thank you. Did you hear how old P--- was to-day?"

"Mortal bad. "

"Why! you don't say. Our folks heard that he was getting quite smart. Is he _dangerous_?"

"The doctor has given him up entirely. "

"Well, it will be a bad job for the family if he goes. I've he'rd thatthere won't be money enough to pay his debts. But what of this marriage?They do say that Miss A--- is to be married to old Mister B---. "

"What are her friends thinking about to let that young gal marry thatold bald-headed man?"

"The money to be sure--they say he's rich. "

"If he's rich, he never made his money honestly. "

"Ah, he came of a bad set, "--with a shake of the head. 

And so they go on, talking and chatting over the affairs of theneighbourhood in succession. It is curious to watch the traits ofcharacter exhibited in buyer and seller. Both exceed the bounds of truthand honesty. The one, in his eagerness to sell his goods, bestowing uponthem the most unqualified praise; the other depreciating them belowtheir real value, in order to obtain them at an unreasonably low price. 

"Fine beef, ma'am, " exclaims an anxious butcher, watching, with the eyeof a hawk, a respectable citizen's wife, as she paces slowly andirresolutely in front of his stall, where he has hung out for sale theside of an ox, neither the youngest nor fattest. "Fine grass-fed beef, ma'am--none better to be had in the district. What shall I send youhome--sirloin, ribs, a tender steak?"

"It would be a difficult matter to do that, " responds the good wife, with some asperity in look and tone. "It seems hard and old; some leancow you have killed, to save her from dying of the consumption. "

"No danger of the fat setting fire to the lum"--suggests a rival in thetrade. "Here's a fine veal, ma'am, fatted upon the milk of two cows. "

"Looks, " says the comely dame, passing on to the next stall, "as if ithad been starved upon the milk of one. "

Talking of markets puts me in mind of a trick--a wicked trick--but, perhaps, not the less amusing on that account, that was played off inToronto market last year by a young medical student, name unknown. Itwas the Christmas week, and the market was adorned with evergreens, anddressed with all possible care. The stalls groaned beneath the weight ofgood cheer--fish, flesh, and fowl, all contributing their share to temptthe appetite and abstract money from the purse. It was a sight to warmthe heart of the most fastidious epicure, and give him the nightmarefor the next seven nights, only dreaming of that stupendous quantity offood to be masticated by the jaws of man. One butcher had the supremefelicity of possessing a fine fat heifer, that had taken the prize atthe provincial agricultural show; and the monster of fat, which wasjustly considered the pride of the market, was hung up in the mostconspicuous place in order to attract the gaze of all beholders. 

Dr. C---, a wealthy doctor of laws, was providing good cheer for theentertainment of a few choice friends on Christmas-day, and ordered ofthe butcher four ribs of the tempting-looking beef. The man, unwillingto cut up the animal until she had enjoyed her full share of admiration, wrote upon a piece of paper, in large characters, "Prize Heifer--fourribs for Dr. C---;" this he pinned upon the carcase of the beast. Shortly after the doctor quitted the market, and a very fat young ladyand her mother came up to the stall to make some purchases. Our studentwas leaning carelessly against it, watching with bright eyes the busyscene; and being an uncommonly mischievous fellow, and very fond ofpractical jokes, a thought suddenly struck him of playing off oneupon the stout young lady. Her back was towards him, and dexterouslyabstracting the aforementioned placard from the side of the heifer, hetransferred it to the shawl of his unsuspecting victim, just where itsample folds comfortably encased her broad shoulders. 

After a while the ladies left the market, amidst the suppressed tittersand outstretched fore-fingers of butchers and hucksters, and all theidle loafers the generally congregate in such places of public resort. All up the length of King street walked the innocent damsel, marvellingthat the public attention appeared exclusively bestowed upon her. Still, as she passed along, bursts of laughter resounded on all sides, and theoft-repeated words, "Prize Heifer--four ribs for Dr. C---;" it was notuntil she reached her own dwelling that she became aware of the trick. 

The land to the east, north, and west of Belleville, rises to aconsiderable height, and some of the back townships, like Huntingdonand Hungerford, abound in lofty hills. There is in the former township, on the road leading from Rawdon village to Luke's tavern, a mostextraordinary natural phenomenon. The road for several miles runs alongthe top of a sharp ridge, so narrow that it leaves barely breadth enoughfor two waggons to pass in safety. This ridge is composed of gravel, andlooks as if it had been subjected to the action of water. On either sideof this huge embankment there is a sheer descent into a finely woodedlevel plain below, through which wanders a lonely creek, or smallstream. I don't know what the height of this ridge is above the level ofthe meadow, but it must be very considerable, as you look down upon thetops of the loftiest forest trees as they grow far, far beneath you. Theroad is well fenced on either side, or it would require some courage todrive young skittish horses along this dangerous pass. The settlers inthat vicinity have given to this singular rise the name of the "Ridgeroad. " There is a sharp ridge of limestone at the back of the townshipof Thurlow, though of far less dimensions, which looks as if it had beenthrown up in some convulsion of the earth, as the limestone is shatteredin all directions. The same thing occurs on the road to Shannonville, asmall but flourishing village on the Kingston road, nine miles east ofBelleville. The rock is heaved up in the middle, and divided by deepcracks into innumerable fragments. I put a long stick down one of thesedeep cracks without reaching the bottom; and as I gathered a lovelybunch of harebells, that were waving their graceful blossoms over thebarren rock, I thought what an excellent breeding place for snakes thesedeep fissures must make. 

But to return to Belleville. The west side of the river--a flatlimestone plain, scantily covered with a second growth of dwarf treesand bushes--has not as yet been occupied, although a flourishing villagethat has sprung up within a few years crowns the ridge above. The plainbelow is private property, and being very valuable, as affordingexcellent sites for flour and saw mills, has been reserved in order toobtain a higher price. This circumstance has, doubtless, been a drawbackto the growth of the town in that direction; while, shutting out theview of the river by the erection of large buildings will greatlydiminish the natural beauties of this picturesque spot. 

The approach to Belleville, both from the east and west, is down avery steep hill, the town lying principally in the valley below. Thesehills command a beautiful prospect of wood and water, and of a rich, well-cleared, and highly cultivated country. Their sides are adornedwith fine trees, which have grown up since the axe first levelled theprimeval forests in this part of the colony; a circumstance which, beingunusual in Canada round new settlements, forms a most attractive featurein the landscape. 

A more delightful summer's evening ride could scarcely be pointed outthan along the Trent, or Kingston roads, and it would be a difficultthing to determine which afforded the most varied and pleasing prospect. Residing upon the west hill, we naturally prefer it to the other, butI have some doubts whether it is really the prettiest. I have oftenimagined a hundred years to have passed away, and the lovely slopingbanks of the Bay of Quinte, crowned with rural villages and statelyparks and houses, stretching down to these fair waters. What a scene offertility and beauty rises before my mental vision! My heart swells, andI feel proud that I belong to a race who, in every portion of the globein which they have planted a colony, have proved themselves worthy to bethe sires of a great nation. 

The state of society when we first came to this district, was everythingbut friendly or agreeable. The ferment occasioned by the impotentrebellion of W. L. Mackenzie had hardly subsided. The public mind was ina sore and excited state. Men looked distrustfully upon each other, andthe demon of party reigned preeminent, as much in the drawing-room inthe council-chamber. 

The town was divided into two fierce political factions; and howevermoderate your views might be, to belong to the one was to incur thedislike and ill-will of the other. The Tory party, who arrogated thewhole loyalty of the colony to themselves, branded, indiscriminately, the large body of Reformers as traitors and rebels. Every conscientiousand thinking man who wished to see a change for the better in themanagement of public affairs, was confounded with those discontentedspirits, who had raised the standard of revolt against the mothercountry. In justice even to them, it must be said, not without severeprovocation; and their disaffection was more towards the colonialgovernment, and the abuses it fostered, than any particular disliketo British supremacy or institutions. Their attempt, whether instigatedby patriotism or selfishness--and probably it contained a mixtureof both--had failed, and it was but just that they should feel thepunishment due to their crime. But the odious term of rebel, applied tosome of the most loyal and honourable men in the province, because theycould not give up their honest views on the state of the colony, gaverise to bitter and resentful feelings, which were ready, on all publicoccasions, to burst into a flame. Even women entered deeply into thisparty hostility; and those who, from their education and mentaladvantages, might have been friends and agreeable companions, keptaloof, rarely taking notice of each other, when accidentally throwntogether. 

The native-born Canadian regarded with a jealous feeling men of talentand respectability who emigrated from the mother country, as mostoffices of consequence and emolument were given to such persons. TheCanadian, naturally enough, considered such preference unjust, and aninfringement upon his rights as a native of the colony, and that he hada greater claim, on that account, upon the government, than men who wereperfect strangers. This, owing to his limited education, was not alwaysthe case; but the preference shown to the British emigrant proved anactive source of ill-will and discontent. The favoured occupant of placeand power was not at all inclined to conciliate his Canadian rival, orto give up the title to mental superiority which he derived from birthand education; and he too often treated his illiterate, but sagaciouspolitical opponent, with a contempt which his practical knowledge andexperience did not merit. It was a miserable state of things; and Ibelieve that most large towns in the province bore, in these respects, astriking resemblance to each other. Those who wished to see impartialjustice administered to all had but an uncomfortable time of it, bothparties regarding with mistrust those men who could not go the wholelength with them in their political opinions. To gain influence inCanada, and be the leader of a party, a man must, as the Yankees say, "go the whole hog. "

The people in the back woods were fortunate in not having their peacedisturbed by these political broils. In the depths of the dark forest, they were profoundly ignorant of how the colony was governed; and manydid not even know which party was in power, and when the rebellionactually broke out it fell upon them like a thunder-clap. But in theirignorance and seclusion there was at least safety, and they were freefrom that dreadful scourge--"the malicious strife of tongues. "

The fever of the "Clergy Reserves question" was then at itsheight. It was never introduced in company but to give offence, and leadto fierce political discussions. All parties were wrong, and nobody wasconvinced. This vexed political question always brought before my mentalvision a ludicrous sort of caricature, which, if I had the artisticskill to delineate, would form no bad illustration of this perplexingsubject. 

I saw in my mind's eye a group of dogs in the marketplace of a largetown, to whom some benevolent individual, with a view to their mutualbenefit, had flung a shank of beef, with meat enough upon the upper endto have satisfied the hunger of all, could such an impossible thing asan equal division, among such noisy claimants, have been made. 

A strong English bull-dog immediately seized upon the bone, and for sometime gnawed away at the best end of it, and contrived to keep all theother dogs at bay. This proceeding was resented by a stout mastiff, whothought that he had as good a right to the beef as the bull-dog, andflung himself tooth and claw upon his opponent. While these two werefighting and wrangling over the bone, a wiry, active Scotch terrier, though but half the size of the other combatants, began tugging at thesmall end of the shank, snarling and barking with all the strength ofhis lungs, to gain at least a chance of being heard, even if he did failin putting in his claims to a share of the meat. 

An old cunning greyhound, to whom no share had been offered, and whowell knew that it was of no use putting himself against the strength ofthe bull-dog and mastiff, stood proudly aloof, with quivering ears andtail, regarding the doings of the others with a glance of sovereigncontempt; yet, watching with his keen eye for an opportunity of making asuccessful spring, while they were busily engaged in snarling and bitingeach other, to carry off the meat, bone and all. 

A multitude of nondescript curs, of no weight in themselves, weresnapping and snuffling round the bone, eagerly anticipating the few titbits, which they hoped might fall to their share during the prolongedscuffle among the higher powers: while the figure of Justice, dimly seenin the distance, was poising her scales, and lifting her sword to makean equal division; but her voice failed to be heard, and her augustpresence regarded, in the universal hubbub. The height to which partyfeeling was carried in those days had to be experienced before it couldbe fully understood. 

Happily for the colony, this evil spirit, during the last three years, has greatly diminished. The two rival parties, though they occasionallyabuse and vilify each other, through the medium of the common safetyvalve--the public papers--are not so virulent as in 1840. They are moreequally matched. The union of the provinces has kept the reform party inthe ascendant, and they are very indifferent to the good or ill opinionof their opponents. 

The colony has greatly progressed under their administration, and is nowin a most prosperous and flourishing state. The municipal and districtcouncils, free schools, and the improvement in the public thoroughfaresof the country, are owing to them, and have proved a great blessing tothe community. The resources of the country are daily being opened up, and both at home and abroad Canada is rising in public estimation. 

As a woman, I cannot enter into the philosophy of these things, nor isit my intention to do so. I leave statistics for wiser and cleverer maleheads. But, even as a woman, I cannot help rejoicing in the beneficialeffects that these changes have wrought in the land of my adoption. Theday of our commercial and national prosperity has dawned, and the raysof the sun already brighten the hill-tops. 

To those persons who have been brought up in the old country, andaccustomed from infancy to adhere to the conventional rules of society, the mixed society must, for a long time, prove very distasteful. Yetthis very freedom, which is so repugnant to all their preconceivednotions and prejudices, is by no means so unpleasant as strangers wouldbe led to imagine. A certain mixture of the common and the real, of theabsurd and the ridiculous, gives a zest to the cold, tame decencies, to be found in more exclusive and refined circles. Human passions andfeelings are exhibited with more fidelity, and you see men and women asthey really are. And many kind, good, and noble traits are to be foundamong those classes, whom at home we regard as our inferiors. The ladyand gentleman in Canada are as distinctly marked as elsewhere. There isno mistaking the superiority that mental cultivation bestows; and theirmingling in public with their less gifted neighbours, rather adds thantakes from their claims to hold the first place. I consider the state ofsociety in a more healthy condition than at home; and people, when theygo out for pleasure here, seem to enjoy themselves much more. 

The harmony that reigns among the members of a Canadian family is trulydelightful. They are not a quarrelsome people in their own homes. Nocontradicting or disputing, or hateful rivalry, is to be seen betweenCanadian brothers and sisters. They cling together through good andill report, like the bundle of sticks in the fable; and I have seldomfound a real Canadian ashamed of owning a poor relation. This to meis a beautiful feature in the Canadian character. Perhaps the perfectequality on which children stand in a family, the superior claim ofeldership, so much upheld at home, never being enforced, is one greatcause of this domestic union of kindred hearts. 

Most of the pretence, and affected airs of importance, occasionallymet with in Canada, are not the genuine produce of the soil, butimportations from the mother country; and, as sure as you hear any oneboasting of the rank and consequence they possessed at home, you maybe certain that it was quite the reverse. An old Dutch lady, afterlistening very attentively to a young Irishwoman's account of thegrandeur of her father's family at home, said rather drily to theself-exalted damsel, --

"Goodness me, child! if you were so well off, what brought you to a poorcountry like this? I am sure you had been much wiser had you staid tohum--"

"Yes. But my papa heard such fine commendations of the country, that hesold his estate to come out. "

"To pay his debts, perhaps, " said the provoking old woman. 

"Ah, no, ma'am, " she replied, very innocently, "he never paid them. Hewas told that it was a very fine climate, and he came for the good ofour health. "

"Why, my dear, you look as if you never had had a day's sickness in yourlife. "

"No more I have, " she replied, putting on a very languid air, "but I amvery _delicate_. "

This term _delicate_, be it known to my readers is a favourite onewith young ladies here, but its general application would lead you toimagine it another term for _laziness_. It is quite fashionableto be _delicate_, but horribly vulgar to be considered capable ofenjoying such a useless blessing as good health. I knew a lady, when Ifirst came to the colony, who had her children daily washed in wateralmost hot enough to scald a pig. On being asked why she did so, as itwas not only an unhealthy practice, but would rob the little girls oftheir fine colour, she exclaimed, --

"Oh, that is just what I do it for. I want them to look _delicate_. They have such red faces, and are as coarse and healthy as countrygirls. "

The rosy face of the British emigrant is regarded as no beauty here. TheCanadian women, like their neighbours the Americans, have small regularfeatures, but are mostly pale, or their faces are only slightly suffusedwith a faint flush. During the season of youth this delicate tinting isvery beautiful, but a few years deprive them of it, and leave a sickly, sallow pallor in its place. The loss of their teeth, too, is a greatdrawback to their personal charms, but these can be so well supplied bythe dentist that it is not so much felt; the thing is so universal thatit is hardly thought detrimental to an otherwise pretty face. 

But, to return to the mere pretenders in society, of which, ofcourse, there are not a few here, as elsewhere. I once met two verystylishly-dressed women at a place of public entertainment. The fatherof these ladies had followed the lucrative but unaristocratic trade ofa tailor in London. One of them began complaining to me of the mixedstate of society in Canada, which she considered a dreadful calamityto persons like her and her sister; and ended her lamentations byexclaiming, --

"What would my pa have thought could he have seen us here to-night?Is it not terrible for ladies to have to dance in the same room withstorekeepers and their clerks?"

Another lady of the same stamp, the daughter of a tavern-keeper, wasindignant at being introduced to a gentleman, whose father had followedthe same calling. 

Such persons seem to forget, that as long as people retain theirnatural manners, and remain true to the dignity of their humanity, they cannot with any justice be called vulgar; for vulgarity consistsin presumptuously affecting to be what we are not, and in claimingdistinctions which we do not deserve and which no one else would admit. 

The farmer, in his homespun, may possess the real essentials which makethe gentleman--good feeling, and respect for the feelings of others. Thehomely dress, weather-beaten face, and hard hands, could not deprivehim of the honest independence and genial benevolence he derived fromnature. No real gentleman would treat such a man, however humble hiscircumstances, with insolence or contempt. But place the same man out ofhis class, dress him in the height of fashion, and let him attempt toimitate the manners of the great, and the whole world would laugh at thecounterfeit. 

Uneducated, ignorant people often rise by their industry to great wealthin the colony; to such the preference shown to the educated man alwaysseems a puzzle. Their ideas of gentility consist in being the owners offine clothes, fine houses, splendid furniture, expensive equipages, andplenty of money. They have all these, yet even the most ignorant feelthat something else is required. They cannot comprehend the mysteriousascendancy of mind over mere animal enjoyments; yet they have senseenough, by bestowing a liberal education on their children, toendeavour, at least in their case, to remedy the evil. 

The affectation of wishing people to think that you had been better offin the mother country than in Canada, is not confined to the higherclass of emigrants. The very poorest are the most remarked for thisridiculous boasting. A servant girl of mine told me, with a very grandtoss of the head, "that she did not choose to _demane_ herself byscrubbing a floor; that she belonged to the _ra'al gintry_ in theould counthry, and her papa and mamma niver brought her up to hardwork. "

This interesting scion of the aristocracy was one of the coarsestspecimens of female humanity I ever beheld. If I called her to bringa piece of wood for the parlour fire, she would thrust her tangled, uncombed red head in at the door, and shout at the top of her voice, "Did yer holler?"

One of our working men, wishing to impress me with the dignity of hiswife's connexions, said with all becoming solemnity of look and manner--

"Doubtless, ma'am, you have heard in the ould counthry of Connor'sracers. Margaret's father kept those racers. "

When I recalled the person of the individual whose fame was so widelyspread at home, and thought of the racers, I could hardly keep a"straight face, " as an American friend terms laughing, when you arebound to look grave. 

One want is greatly felt here; but it is to be hoped that a more liberalsystem of education and higher moral culture will remedy the evil. Thereis a great deficiency among our professional men and wealthy traders ofthat nice sense of honour that marks the conduct and dealings of thesame class at home. Of course many bright exceptions are to be found inthe colony, but too many of the Canadians think it no disgrace to takeevery advantage of the ignorance and inexperience of strangers. 

If you are not smart enough to drive a close bargain, they considerit only fair to take you in. A man loses very little in the publicestimation by making over all his property to some convenient friend, in order to defraud his creditors, while he retains a competency forhimself. 

Women whose husbands have been detained on the limits for years fordebt, will give large parties and dress in the most expensive style. This would be thought dishonourable at home, but is considered nodisgrace here. 

"Honour is all very well in an old country like England, " said a lady, with whom I had been arguing on the subject; "but, Mrs. M---, it won'tdo in a new country like this. You may as well cheat as be cheated. Formy part, I never lose an advantage by indulging in such foolishnotions. "

I have no doubt that a person who entertained such principles would notfail to reduce them to practice. 

The idea that some country people form of an author is highly amusing. One of my boys was tauntingly told by another lad at school, "that hisma' said that Mrs. M--- invented lies, and got money for them. " This washer estimation of works of mere fiction. 

Once I was driven by a young Irish friend to call upon the wife of arich farmer in the country. We were shewn by the master of the houseinto a very handsomely furnished room, in which there was no lack ofsubstantial comfort, and even of some elegancies, in the shape of books, pictures, and a piano. The good man left us to inform his wife of ourarrival, and for some minutes we remained in solemn state, until themistress of the house made her appearance. 

She had been called from the washtub, and, like a sensible woman, wasnot ashamed of her domestic occupation. She came in wiping the suds fromher hands on her apron, and gave us a very hearty and friendly welcome. She was a short, stout, middle-aged woman, with a very pleasingcountenance; and though only in her coloured flannel working-dress, witha nightcap on her head, and spectacled nose, there was something in herfrank good-natured face that greatly prepossessed us in her favour. 

After giving us the common compliments of the day, she drew her chairjust in front of me, and, resting her elbows on her knees, and droppingher chin between her hands, she sat regarding me with such a fixed gazethat it became very embarrassing. 

"So, " says she, at last, "you are Mrs. M---?"

"Yes. "

"The woman that writes?"

"The same. "

She drew back her chair for a few paces, with a deep-drawn sigh, inwhich disappointment and surprise seemed strangely to mingle. "Well, Ihave he'rd a great deal about you, and I wanted to see you bad for along time; but you are only a humly person like myself after all. Why Ido think, if I had on my best gown and cap, I should look a great dealyounger and better than you. "

I told her that I had no doubt of the fact. 

"And pray, " continued she, with the same provoking scrutiny, "how old doyou call yourself?"

I told her my exact age. 

"Humph!" quoth she, as if she rather doubted my word, "two years youngernor me! you look a great deal older nor that. "

After a long pause, and another searching gaze, "Do you call those teethyour own?"

"Yes, " said I, laughing; for I could retain my gravity no longer; "inthe very truest sense of the word they are mine, as God gave them tome. "

"You luckier than your neighbours, " said she. "But airn't you greatlytroubled with headaches?"

"No, " said I, rather startled at this fresh interrogatory. 

"My!" exclaimed she, "I thought you must be, your eyes are so sunk inyour head. Well, well, so you are Mrs. M--- of Belleville, the womanthat writes. You are but a humly body after all. "

While this curious colloquy was going on, my poor Irish friend sat onthorns, and tried, by throwing in a little judicious blarney, to softenthe thrusts of the home truths to which he had unwittingly exposed me. Between every pause in the conversation, he broke in with--"I am sureMrs. M--- is a fine-looking woman--a very young-looking woman for herage. Any person might know at a glance that those teeth were her own. They look too natural to be false. "

Now, I am certain that the poor little woman never meant to wound myfeelings, nor give me offence. She literally spoke her thoughts, and Iwas too much amused with the whole scene to feel the least irritated byher honest bluntness. She expected to find in an author something quiteout of the common way, and I did not come up at all to her expectations. 

Her opinion of me was not more absurd than the remarks of two ladieswho, after calling upon me for the first time, communicated the resultof their observations to a mutual friend. 

"We have seen Mrs. M---, and we were so surprised to find her just likeother people!"

"What did you expect to see in her?"

"Oh, something very different. We were very much disappointed. "

"That she was not sitting upon her head, " said my friend, smiling;"I like Mrs. M---, because she is in every respect like other people;and I should not have taken her for a blue-stocking at all. "

The sin of authorship meets with little toleration in a new country. Several persons of this class, finding few minds that could sympathisewith them, and enter into their literary pursuits, have yielded todespondency, or fallen victims to that insidious enemy of souls, _Canadian whisky_. Such a spirit was the unfortunate Dr. Huskins, late of Frankfort on the river Trent. The fate of this gentleman, whowas a learned and accomplished man of genius, left a very sad impressionon my mind. Like too many of that highly-gifted, but unhappy fraternity, he struggled through his brief life, overwhelmed with the weight ofundeserved calumny, and his peace of mind embittered with the mostgalling neglect and poverty. 

The want of sympathy experienced by him from men of his own class, pressed sorely upon the heart of the sensitive man of talent andrefinement; he found very few who could appreciate or understand hismental superiority, which was pronounced as folly and madness by theignorant persons about him. A new country, where all are rushing eagerlyforward in order to secure the common necessaries of life, is not afavourable soil in which to nourish the bright fancies and delusivedreams of the poet. Dr. Huskins perceived his error too late, when he nolonger retained the means to remove to a more favourable spot, --and hiswas not a mind which could meet and combat successfully with the illsof life. He endeavoured to bear proudly the evils of his situation, buthe had neither the energy nor the courage to surmount them. He withdrewhimself from society, and passed the remainder of his days in asolitary, comfortless, log hut on the borders of the wilderness. Here hedrooped and died, as too many like him have died, heartbroken and alone. A sad mystery involves the last hours of his life: it is said that heand Dr. Sutor, another talented but very dissipated man, had enteredinto a compact to drink until they both died. Whether this statement istrue cannot now be positively ascertained. It is certain, however, thatDr. Sutor was found dead upon the floor of the miserable shanty occupiedby his friend, and that Dr. Huskins was lying on his bed in the agoniesof death. Could the many fine poems composed by Dr. Huskins in hissolitary exile, be collected and published, we feel assured thatposterity would do him justice, and that his name would rank high amongthe bards of the green isle. 

To The Memory of Dr. Huskins. 

 "Neglected son of genius! thou hast pass'd In broken-hearted loneliness away; And one who prized thy talents, fain would cast The cypress-wreath above thy nameless clay. Ah, could she yet thy spirit's flight delay, Till the cold world, relenting from its scorn, The fadeless laurel round thy brows should twine, Crowning the innate majesty of mind, By crushing poverty and sorrow torn. Peace to thy mould'ring ashes, till revive Bright memories of thee in deathless song! True to the dead, Time shall relenting give The meed of fame deserved--delayed too long, And in immortal verse the Bard again shall live!"

Alas! this frightful vice of drinking prevails throughout the colony toan alarming extent. Professional gentlemen are not ashamed of being seenissuing from the bar-room of a tavern early in the morning, or of beingcaught reeling home from the same sink of iniquity late at night. Nosense of shame seems to deter them from the pursuit of their darlingsin. I have heard that some of these regular topers place brandybeside their beds that, should they awake during the night, they mayhave within their reach the fiery potion for which they are barteringbody and soul. Some of these persons, after having been warned oftheir danger by repeated fits of _delirium tremens_, have joinedthe tee-totallers; but their abstinence only lasted until there-establishment of their health enabled them to return to their oldhaunts, and become more hardened in their vile habits than before. Itis to be questioned whether the signing of any pledge is likely toprove a permanent remedy for this great moral evil. If an appeal to theheart and conscience, and the fear of incurring the displeasure of anoffended God, are not sufficient to deter a man from becoming an activeinstrument in the ruin of himself and family, no forcible restraintupon his animal desires will be likely to effect a real reformation. It appears to me that the temperance people begin at the wrong end ofthe matter, by restraining the animal propensities before they haveconvinced the mind. If a man abstain from drink only as long as theaccursed thing is placed beyond his reach, it is after all but anegative virtue, to be overcome by the first strong temptation. Wereincurable drunkards treated as lunatics, and a proper asylum providedfor them in every large town, and the management of their affairscommitted to their wives or adult children, the bare idea of beingconfined under such a plea would operate more forcibly upon them than bysigning a pledge, which they can break or resume according to thecaprice of the moment. 

A drunkard, while under the influence of liquor, is a madman in everysense of the word, and his mental aberration is often of the mostdangerous kind. Place him and the confirmed maniac side by side, andit would be difficult for a stranger to determine which was the mostirrational of the two. 

A friend related to me the following anecdote of a physician in hisnative town:--This man, who was eminent in his profession, and highlyrespected by all who knew him, secretly indulged in the pernicious habitof dram-drinking, and after a while bade fair to sink into a hopelessdrunkard. At the earnest solicitations of his weeping wife and daughterhe consented to sign the pledge, and not only ardent spirits but everysort of intoxicating beverage was banished from the house. 

The use of alcohol is allowed in cases of sickness to the most rigiddisciplinarians, and our doctor began to find that keeping his pledgewas a more difficult matter than he had at first imagined. Still, for_examples' sake_, of course, a man of his standing in society had onlyjoined for _examples' sake_; he did not like openly to break it. Hetherefore feigned violent toothache, and sent the servant girl over to afriend's house to borrow a small phial of brandy. 

The brandy was sent, with many kind wishes for the doctor's speedyrecovery. The phial now came every night to be refilled; and thedoctor's toothache seemed likely to become a case of incurable _ticdouloureux_. His friend took the alarm. He found it both expensiveand inconvenient, providing the doctor with his nightly dose; andwishing to see how matters really stood, he followed the maid and thebrandy one evening to the doctor's house. 

He entered unannounced. It was as he suspected. The doctor was loungingin his easy chair before the fire, indulging in a hearty fit of laughterover some paragraph in a newspaper, which he held in his hand. 

"Ah, my dear J---, I am so glad to find you so well. I thought by yoursending for the brandy, that you were dying with the toothache. "

The doctor, rather confounded--"Why, yes; I have been sadly troubledwith it of late. It does not come on, however, before eight o'clock, andif I cannot get a mouthful of brandy, I never can get a wink of sleepall night. "

"Did you ever have it before you took the pledge?"

"Never, " said the doctor emphatically. 

"Perhaps the cold water does not agree with you?"

The doctor began to smell a rat, and fell vigorously to minding thefire. 

"I tell you what it is, J---, " said the other; "the toothache is a_nervous affection_. It is the _brandy_ that is the _disease_. It may cure you of an imaginary toothache; but I assure you, that itgives your wife and daughter an _incurable heartache_. "

The doctor felt at that moment a strange palpitation at his own. Thescales fell suddenly from his eyes, and for the first time his conductappeared in its true light. Returning the bottle to his friend, he said, very humbly--"Take it out of my sight; I feel my error now. I will curetheir heartache by curing myself of this beastly vice. "

The doctor, from that hour, became a temperate man. He soon regainedhis failing practice, and the esteem of his friends. The appeal ofhis better feelings effected a permanent change in his habits, whichsigning the pledge had not been able to do. To keep up an appearance ofconsistency he had had recourse to a mean subterfuge, while touching hisheart produced a lasting reform. 

Drinking is the curse of Canada, and the very low price of whisky placesthe temptation constantly in every one's reach. But it is not byadopting by main force the Maine Liquor law, that our legislators willbe able to remedy the evil. Men naturally resist any oppressive measuresthat infringe upon their private rights, even though such measures areadopted solely for their benefit. It is not wise to thrust temperancedown a man's throat; and the surest way to make him a drunkard is toinsist upon his being sober. The zealous advocates of this measure (andthere are many in Canada) know little of their own, or the nature ofothers. It would be the fruitful parent of hypocrisy, and lay thefoundation of crimes still greater than the one it is expected to cure. 

To wean a fellow-creature from the indulgence of a gross sensualpropensity, as I said before, we must first convince the mind: thereform must commence there. Merely withdrawing the means ofgratification, and treating a rational being like a child, will neverachieve a great moral conquest. 

In pagan countries, the missionaries can only rely upon the sincerity ofthe converts, who are educated when children in their schools; and ifwe wish to see drunkenness banished from our towns and cities, we mustprepare our children from their earliest infancy to resist the growingevil. 

Show your boy a drunkard wallowing in the streets, like some uncleananimal in the mire. Every side-walk, on a market-day, will furnish youwith examples. Point out to him the immorality of such a degradingposition; make him fully sensible of all its disgusting horrors. Tellhim that God has threatened in words of unmistakable import, that hewill exclude such from his heavenly kingdom. Convince him that suchloathsome impurity must totally unfit the soul for communion with itsGod--that such a state may truly be looked upon as the second death--thefoul corruption and decay of both body and soul. Teach the child to prayagainst drunkenness, as he would against murder, lying, and theft; shewhim that all these crimes are often comprised in this one, which in toomany cases has been the fruitful parent of them all. 

When the boy grows to be a man, and mingles in the world of men, hewill not easily forget the lesson impressed on his young heart. He willremember his early prayers against this terrible vice--will recallthat disgusting spectacle--and will naturally shrink from the samecontamination. Should he be overcome by temptation, the voice ofconscience will plead with him in such decided tones that she will beheard, and he will be ashamed of becoming the idiot thing he once fearedand loathed. 

The Drunkard's Return. 

 "Oh! ask not of my morn of life, How dark and dull it gloom'd o'er me; Sharp words and fierce domestic strife, Robb'd my young heart of all its glee, -- The sobs of one heart-broken wife, Low, stifled moans of agony, That fell upon my shrinking ear, In hollow tones of woe and fear; As crouching, weeping, at her side, I felt my soul with sorrow swell, In pity begg'd her not to hide The cause of grief I knew too well; Then wept afresh to hear her pray That death might take us both away!

 "Away from whom? Alas! What ill Press'd the warm life-hopes from her heart? Was she not young and lovely still? What made the frequent tear-drops start From eyes, whose light of love could fill My inmost soul, and bade me part From noisy comrades in the street, To kiss her cheek, so cold and pale, To clasp her neck, and hold her hand, And list the oft-repeated tale Of woes I could not understand; Yet felt their force, as, day by day, I watch'd her fade from life away. 

 "And _he_, the cause of all this woe, Her mate--the father of her child, In dread I saw him come and go, With many an awful oath reviled; And from harsh word, and harsher blow, (In answer to her pleadings mild, ) I shrank in terror, till I caught From her meek eyes th' unwhisper'd thought-- 'Bear it, my Edward, for thy mother's sake! He cares not, in his sullen mood, If this poor heart with anguish break. ' That look was felt, and understood By her young son, thus school'd to bear His wrongs, to soothe her deep despair. 

 "Oh, how I loath'd him!--how I scorn'd His idiot laugh, or demon frown, -- His features bloated and deform'd; The jests with which he sought to drown The consciousness of sin, or storm'd, To put reproof or anger down. Oh, 'tis a fearful thing to feel Stern, sullen hate, the bosom steel 'Gainst one whom nature bids us prize The first link in her mystic chain; Which binds in strong and tender ties The heart, while reason rules the brain, And mingling love with holy fear, Renders the parent doubly dear. 

 "I cannot bear to think how deep The hatred was I bore him then; But he has slept his last long sleep, And I have trod the haunts of men; Have felt the tide of passion sweep Through manhood's fiery heart, and when By strong temptation toss'd and tried, I thought how that lost father died; Unwept, unpitied, in his sin; Then tears of burning shame would rise, And stern remorse awake within A host of mental agonies. He fell--by one dark vice defiled; Was I more pure--his erring child?

 "Yes--erring child; but to my tale. My mother loved that lost one still, From the deep fount which could not fail (Through changes dark, from good to ill, ) Her woman's heart--and sad and pale, She yielded to his stubborn will; Perchance she felt remonstrance vain, -- The effort to resist gave pain. But carefully she hid her grief From him, the idol of her youth; And fondly hoped, against belief, That her deep love and stedfast truth Would touch his heart, and win him back From Folly's dark and devious track. 

 "Vain hope! the drunkard's heart is hard as stone, No grief disturbs his selfish, sensual joy; His wife may weep, his starving children groan, And Poverty with cruel gripe annoy. He neither hears, nor heeds their famish'd moan, The glorious wine-cup owns no base alloy. Surrounded by a low, degraded train, His fiendish laugh defiance bids to pain; He hugs the cup--more dear than friends to him-- Nor sees stern ruin from the goblet rise, Nor flames of hell careering o'er the brim, -- The lava flood that glads his bloodshot eyes Poisons alike his body and his soul, Till reason lies self-murder'd in the bowl. 

 "It was a dark and fearful winter night, Loud roar'd the tempest round our hovel home; Cold, hungry, wet, and weary was our plight, And still we listen'd for his step to come. My poor sick mother!--'twas a piteous sight To see her shrink and shiver, as our dome Shook to the rattling blast; and to the door She crept, to look along the bleak, black moor. He comes--he comes!--and, quivering all with dread, She spoke kind welcome to that sinful man. His sole reply, --'Get supper--give me bread!' Then, with a sneer, he tauntingly began To mock the want that stared him in the face, Her bitter sorrow, and his own disgrace. 

 "'I have no money to procure you food, No wood, no coal, to raise a cheerful fire; The madd'ning cup may warm your frozen blood-- We die, for lack of that which you desire!' She ceased, --erect one moment there he stood, The foam upon his lip; with fiendish ire He seized a knife which glitter'd in his way, And rush'd with fury on his helpless prey. Then from a dusky nook I fiercely sprung, The strength of manhood in that single bound: Around his bloated form I tightly clung, And headlong brought the murderer to the ground. We fell--his temples struck the cold hearth-stone, The blood gush'd forth--he died without a moan!

 "Yes--by my hand he died! one frantic cry Of mortal anguish thrill'd my madden'd brain, Recalling sense and mem'ry. Desperately I strove to raise my fallen sire again, And call'd upon my mother; but her eye Was closed alike to sorrow, want, and pain. Oh, what a night was that!--when all alone I watch'd my dead beside the cold hearth-stone. I thought myself a monster--that the deed To save my mother was too promptly done. I could not see her gentle bosom bleed, And quite forgot the father, in the son; For her I mourn'd--for her, through bitter years, Pour'd forth my soul in unavailing tears. 

 "The world approved the act; but on my soul There lay a gnawing consciousness of guilt, A biting sense of crime, beyond control: By my rash hand a father's blood was spilt, And I abjured for aye the death-drugg'd bowl. This is my tale of woe; and if thou wilt Be warn'd by me, the sparkling cup resign; A serpent lurks within the ruby wine, Guileful and strong as him who erst betray'd The world's first parents in their bowers of joy. Let not the tempting draught your soul pervade; It shines to kill, and sparkles to destroy. The drunkard's sentence has been seal'd above, -- Exiled for ever from the heaven of love!"

CHAPTER III

Free Schools--Thoughts on Education

 "Truth, Wisdom, Virtue--the eternal three, Great moral agents of the universe-- Shall yet reform and beautify the world, And render it fit residence for Him In whom these glorious attributes combined, To render perfect manhood one with God!" S. M. 

There is no calculating the immense benefit which the will colony willderive from the present liberal provision made for the education of therising generation. 

A few years ago schools were so far apart, and the tuition of childrenso expensive, that none but the very better class could scrape moneyenough together to send their children to be instructed. Under thepresent system, every idle ragged child in the streets, by washing hisface and hands, and presenting himself to the free school of his ward, can receive the same benefit as the rest. 

What an inestimable blessing is this, and how greatly will thiseducation of her population tend to increase the wealth and prosperityof the province! It is a certain means of a calling out and makingavailable all the talent in the colony; and as, thanks be to God, geniusnever was confined to any class, the poor will be more benefited by thiswise and munificent arrangement than the rich. 

These schools are supported by a district tax, which falls upon theproperty of persons well able to pay it; but avarice and bigotry arealready at work, to endeavour to deprive the young of his new-foundblessing. Persons grumble at having to pay this additional tax. Theysay, "If poor people want their children taught, let them pay for it:their instruction has no right to be forced from our earnings. "

What a narrow prejudice is this--what miserable, short-sighted policy!The education of these neglected children, by making them bettercitizens, will in the long run prove a great protection both to lifeand property. 

Then the priests of different persuasions lift up their voices becauseno particular creed is allowed to be taught in the seminaries, andexclaim--"The children will be infidels. These schools are godless andimmoral in the extreme. " Yes; children will be taught to love each otherwithout any such paltry distinctions as party and creed. The rich andthe poor will meet together to learn the sweet courtesies of a commonhumanity, and prejudice and avarice and bigotry cannot bear that. 

There is a spirit abroad in the world--and an evil spirit it is--whichthrough all ages has instigated the rich to look down with contemptuousfeelings of superiority on the humble occupations and inferiorcircumstances of the poor. Now, that this spirit is diametricallyopposed to the benevolent precepts of Christianity, the fact of ourblessed Lord performing his painful mission on earth in no highercapacity than that of a working mechanic, ought sufficiently to show. What divine benevolence--what god-like humility was displayed in thisheroic act! Of all the wonderful events in his wonderful history, isthere one more astonishing than this--

 "That Heaven's high Majesty his court should keep In a clay cottage, by each blast controll'd, -- That Glory's self should serve our hopes and fears, And free Eternity submit to years?"

What a noble triumph was this, over the cruel and unjust prejudicesof mankind! It might truly be termed the divine philosophy of virtue. This condescension on the part of the great Creator of the universe, ought to have been sufficient to have rendered labour honourable in theminds of his followers; and we still indulge the hope, that the moraland intellectual improvement of mankind will one day restore labour toher proper pedestal in the temple of virtue. 

The chosen disciples of our Great Master--those to whom he entrusted theprecious code of moral laws that was destined to overthrow the kingdomof Satan, and reform a degraded world--were poor uneducated men. Themost brilliant gems are often enclosed in the rudest incrustations;and He who formed the bodies and souls of men, well knew that the mostpowerful intellects are often concealed amidst the darkness and rubbishof uneducated minds. Such minds, enlightened and purified by hiswonder-working Spirit, He sent forth to publish his message of gladtidings through the earth. 

The want of education and moral training is the only _real_ barrierthat exists between the different classes of men. Nature, reason, andChristianity, recognise no other. Pride may say nay; but pride wasalways a liar, and a great hater of the truth. Wealth, in a hard, abstract point of view, can never make any. Take away the wealth froman ignorant man, and he remains just the same being he was before hepossessed it, and is no way bettered from the mere circumstance of hishaving once been rich. But let that wealth procure for him the only trueand imperishable riches--knowledge, and with it the power to do good tohimself and others, which is the great end of moral and religioustraining--and a mighty structure is raised which death itself is unableto destroy. The man has indeed changed his nature, and is fast regainingthe resemblance he once bore to his Creator. 

The soil of man is no rank, sex, or colour. It claims a distinction farabove all these; and shall we behold its glorious energies imprisoned inthe obscene den of ignorance and want, without making the least effortto enlighten its hideous darkness?

It is painful to reflect upon the vast barren wilderness of humanintellect which on every side stretches around us--to know thatthousands of powerful minds are condemned by the hopeless degradation oftheir circumstances to struggle on in obscurity, without one gleam oflight. What a high and noble privilege has the Almighty conferred uponthe wealthy and well-educated portion of mankind, in giving them themeans of reclaiming and cultivating those barren minds, and of liftingthem from the mire of ignorance in which they at present wallow, toshare with them the moral dignity of thinking men!

A small portion of the wealth that is at present bestowed upon merearticles of luxury, or in scenes of riot and dissipation, would morethan effect this great purpose. The education of the poorer classes mustadd greatly to the well-being and happiness of the world, and tend todiminish the awful amount of crimes and misery, which up to the presentmoment has rendered it a vale of tears. 

The ignorance of the masses must, while it remains, for ever separatethem from their more fortunate brethren. Remove this stumbling blockout of the way, and the hard line of demarcation which now divides themwill soften, and gradually melt away. Their supposed inferiority liesin their situation alone. Turn to the history of those great men whomeducation has rescued from the very lowest walks of life, and you willfind a mighty host, who were in their age and day the companions, theadvisers, the friends of princes--men who have written their names withthe pen and sword upon the pillars of time, and, if immortality canexist in a world of constant change, have been rendered immortal bytheir words or deeds. 

Let poverty and bigotry do their utmost to keep such spirits, whileliving, in the shades of obscurity, death, the great equalizer, alwaysrestores to its possessors the rights of mind, and bids them triumph forever over the low prejudices of their fellow-men, who, when reading theworks of Burns, or gazing on the paintings of Raphael, reproach themwith the lowliness of their origin; yea, the proudest who have tasteto appreciate their glorious creations, rejoice that genius could thustriumph over temporary obstacles. 

It has often been asserted by the rich and nobly-born, that if thepoorer classes were as well educated as themselves, it would renderthem familiar and presumptuous, and they would no longer pay to theirsuperiors in station that deference which must exist for the well-beingof society. We view the subject with far other eyes, and conclude fromanalogy, that that which has conferred such incalculable benefits on therich, and helped mainly to place them in the position they now hold, could not be detrimental to the poor. The man who knows his duty, ismore likely to perform it well than the ignorant man, whose services arecompulsory, and whose actions are influenced by the moral responsibilitywhich a right knowledge must give. 

My earnest wish for universal education involves no dislike to royalrule, or for those distinctions of birth and wealth which I considernecessary for the well-being of society. It little matters by what namewe call them; men of talent and education will exert a certain influenceover the minds of their fellow-men, which will always be felt andacknowledged in the world if mankind were equalized to-morrow. Perfect, unadulterated republicanism, is a beautiful but fallacious chimera whichnever has existed upon the earth, and which, if the Bible be true, (andwe have no doubts on the subject, ) we are told never will exist inheaven. Still we consider that it would be true wisdom and policyin those who possess a large share of the good things of this world, to make labour honourable, by exalting the poor operative into anintelligent moral agent. Surely it is no small privilege to be able tobind up his bruised and broken heart--to wipe the dust from his brow, and the tears from his eyes--and bid him once more stand erect in hisMaker's image. This is, indeed, to become the benefactor both of hissoul and body; for the mind, once convinced of its own real worth andnative dignity, is less prone to fall into low and degrading vices, thanwhen struggling with ignorance and the galling chain of despisedpoverty. 

It is impossible for the most depraved votary of wealth and fashion_really_ to despise a poor, honest, well-informed man. There is anaristocracy of virtue as well as of wealth; and the rich man who daresto cast undeserved contempt upon his poor, but high-minded brother, hears a voice within him which, in tones which cannot be misunderstood, reproves him for blaspheming his Maker's image. A glorious missionis conferred on you who are rich and nobly born, which, if well andconscientiously performed, will make the glad arch of heaven ring withsongs of joy. Nor deem that you will be worse served because yourservant is a religious, well educated man, or that you will be treatedwith less respect and attention by one who knows that your stationentitles you to it, than by the rude, ignorant slave, who hates you inhis heart, and performs his appointed services with an envious, discontented spirit. 

When we consider that ignorance is the fruitful parent of crime, weshould unite with heart and voice to banish it from the earth. We shoulddevote what means we can spare, and the talents with which God hasendowed us, in furthering every national and benevolent institution seton foot for this purpose; and though the progress of improvement may atfirst appear slow, this should not discourage any one from endeavouringto effect a great and noble purpose. Many months must intervene, aftersowing a crop, before the husbandman can expect to reap the harvest. Thewinter snows must cover, the spring rains vivify and nourish, and thesummer sun ripen, before the autumn arrives for the ingathering of hislabour, and then the increase, after all his toil and watching, must bewith God. 

During the time of our blessed Lord's sojourn upon earth, he proclaimedthe harvest to be plenteous and the labourers few; and he instructed hisdisciples to pray to the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers intothe field. Does it not, therefore, behove those who live in a moreenlightened age--when the truth of the Gospel, which he sealed with hisblood, has been preached in almost every country--to pray the Father ofSpirits to proportion the labourers to the wants of his people, so thatChristian kindness, brotherly love, and moral improvement, may go handin hand, and keep pace with increasing literary and scientificknowledge?

A new country like Canada cannot value the education of her people toohighly. The development of all the talent within the province will inthe end prove her real worth, for from this source every blessing andimprovement must flow. The greatness of a nation can more truly beestimated by the wisdom and intelligence of her people, than by themere amount of specie she may possess in her treasury. The money, underthe bad management of ignorant rulers, would add but little to thewell-being of the community, while the intelligence which could make asmaller sum available in contributing to the general good, is in itselfan inexhaustible mine of wealth. 

If a few enlightened minds are able to add so much strength andimportance to the country to which they belong, how much greater mustthat country become if all her people possessed this intelligence! Howimpossible it would be to conquer a country, if she could rely upon theunited wisdom of an educated people to assist her in her hour of need!The force of arms could never subdue a nation thus held together by thestrong hands of intellectual fellowship. 

To the wisdom of her educated men, Britain owes the present position sheholds among the nations. The power of mind has subdued all the naturalobstacles that impeded her course, and has placed her above all hercompetitors. She did not owe her greatness to extent of territory. Lookat the position she occupies upon the map--a mere speck, when comparedwith several European nations. It was not to her superior courage, greatas that is acknowledged to be; the French, the Germans, the Spaniards, are as brave, as far as mere courage is concerned, are as ready toattack and as slow to yield, as the lion-hearted king himself. No, it is to the moral power of her educated classes that she owes hersuperiority. It is more difficult to overcome mind than matter. Tocontend with the former, is to contend with God himself, for all trueknowledge is derived from him; to contend with the latter, is to fightwith the grosser elements of the earth, which being corruptible in theirnature, are more easily overcome. From her educated men have sprung allthose wonderful discoveries in science, which have extended the commerceof Great Britain, enlarged her capacity for usefulness, and rendered herthe general benefactress of mankind. 

If education has accomplished these miracles--for they would have beenregarded as such in a more remote period of the world's history--thinkof what importance it is to Canada to bestow this inestimable gift uponher children. 

Yet I should be sorry to see the sons of the poor emigrant wastingtheir valuable time in acquiring Latin and Greek. A man may be highlyeducated, may possess the most lofty and comprehensive mind, withoutknowing one syllable of either. The best years of a boy's life are oftenthrown away in acquiring the Latin language, which often proves oflittle use to him in after life, and which, for the want of practice, becomes to him a dead letter, as well as a dead language. Let the boy betaught to think, to know the meaning thoroughly of what he learns, and, by the right use of his reflective faculties, be enabled to communicatethe knowledge thus acquired to others. A comprehensive knowledge of thearts and sciences, of history, geography, chemistry, and mathematics, together with a deep and unbigoted belief in the great truths ofChristianity, would render a man or woman a highly intellectual andrational companion, without going beyond the pale of plain English. "Light! give me more light!" were the dying words of Goethe; and thisshould be the constant prayer of all rational souls to the Father oflight. More crimes are committed through ignorance than through theinfluence of bad and malignant passions. An ignorant man is incapable ofjudging correctly, however anxious he may be to do so. He gropes in thedark, like a blind man; and if he should happen to stumble on the rightpath, it is more by accident than from any correct idea which has beenformed in his mind respecting it. 

The mind which once begins to feel a relish for acquiring knowledge isnot easily satisfied. The more it knows, the less it thinks of its ownacquirements, and the more anxious it becomes to arrive at the truth;and finding that perfection is not a growth of earth, it carries itsearnest longings beyond this world, and seeks it in communion with theDeity. If the young could once be fully persuaded that there was nodisgrace in labour, in honest, honourable poverty, but a deep andlasting disgrace in ignorance and immorality, their education would beconducted on the most enlightened plan, and produce the most beneficialresults. 

The poor man who could have recourse to a book for amusement, instead ofwasting a leisure hour in the barroom of a tavern, would be more likelyto promote the comfort and respectability of his family. Why should thelabourer be debarred from sharing with the rich the great world of thepast, and be able to rank amongst his best friends the distinguished menof all creeds and countries, and to feel for these dead worthies (who, thanks to the immortal art of printing, still live in their works) thewarmest gratitude and admiration? The very mention of some names awakenin the mind the most lively emotion. We recall their beautiful thoughtsto memory, and repeat them with as much earnestness as though the deadspake again through our lips. 

Of all the heaven-inspired inventions of man, there are none to which weare so greatly indebted as to the art of printing. To it we shall yetowe the emancipation of the larger portion of mankind from a state ofmental and physical slavery. What floods of light have dawned upon theworld since that silent orator, the press, set at liberty the imprisonedthoughts of men, and poured the wealth of mind among the famishing sonsof earth! Formerly few could read, because manuscript books, the laboursof the pen, were sold at such an enormous price that only men of rankor great wealth could afford to purchase them. The peasant, and thelandholder who employed him, were alike ignorant; they could not obtainbooks, and therefore learning to read might well be considered in thosedark ages a waste of time. This profound ignorance gave rise to allthose superstitions which in the present enlightened age are regardedwith such astonishment by thinking minds. 

"How could sensible, good men, condemn poor old women to death for beingwitches?" was a question once asked me by my nephew, a fine, intelligentboy, of eight years of age. 

Now this boy had read a good deal, young as he was, and thought more, and was wiser in his day and generation than these same pious bigots. And why? The boy had read the works of more enlightened men, and, makinga right use of his reason, he felt convinced that these men were inerror (although he had been born and brought up in the backwoods ofCanada)--a fact which the great Mathew Hale was taught by bitterexperience. 

I have said more on this subject than I at first intended, but I feeldeeply impressed with the importance of it; and, though I confessmyself wholly inadequate to do it the justice it deserves, I hope theobservations I have made will attract the attention of my Canadianreaders, and lead them to study it more profoundly for themselves. Thanks be to God! Canada is a free country; a land of plenty; a landexempt from pauperism, burdensome taxation, and all the ills whichcrush and finally sink in ruin older communities. While the vigour ofyoung life is yet hers, and she has before her the experience of allother nations, it becomes an act of duty and real _patriotism_ togive to her children the best education that lies in her power. 

The Poet. 

 "Who can read the Poet's dream, Shadow forth his glorious theme, And in written language tell The workings of the potent spell, Whose mysterious tones impart Life and vigour to his heart? 'Tis an emanation bright, Shooting from the fount of light; Flowing in upon the mind, Like sudden dayspring on the blind; Gilding with immortal dyes Scenes unknown to common eyes; Revealing to the mental sight Visions of untold delight. 'Tis the key by Fancy brought, That opens up the world of thought; A sense of power, a pleasing madness, A hope in grief, a joy in sadness, A taste for beauty unalloyed, A love of nature never cloyed; The upward soaring of a soul Unfetter'd by the world's control, Onward, heavenward ever tending, Its essence with the Eternal blending; Till, from 'mortal coil' shook free, It shares the seraph's ecstacy. "

CHAPTER IV

Amusements

 "Life hath its pleasures, stern Death hath its fears, Joy hath gay laughter, and Grief bitter tears; Rejoice with the one, nor shrink from the other, -- Yon cloud hides the sun, and death is life's brother! As the beam to the day, so the shade to the night-- Be certain that Heaven orders all for the right. " S. M. 

My dear reader, before we proceed further on our journey, it may be aswell to give you some idea of how the Canadian people in towns spendtheir time. I will endeavour to describe to you the various sources fromwhence they derive pleasure and amusement. 

In large cities, like Montreal and Toronto, the higher classes are asrefined and intellectual as ladies and gentlemen at home, and spendtheir lives much in the same manner. Their houses abound in all theelegancies and luxuries of life, and to step into their drawing-roomsyou would imagine yourself still in England. They drive handsomecarriages, and ride fine spirited horses; and if they are encumberedwith fewer domestic pests in the shape of pampered servants, they have, in this respect, a decided advantage over their European friends. Theydress well and expensively, and are very particular to have theirclothes cut in the newest fashion. Men and women adopt the reigning modeso universally, that they look all dressed alike. The moment a fashionbecomes at all obsolete, the articles of dress made to suit it arediscarded. In England, a lady may please herself in the choice ofcolours, and in adopting as much of a fashion as suits her style ofperson and taste, but in Canada they carry this imitation of thefashions of the day to extremes. If green was the prevailing colour, every lady would adopt it, whether it suited her complexion or no; and, if she was ever so stout, that circumstance would not prevent her fromwearing half-a-dozen more skirts than was necessary, because that absurdand unhealthy practice has for a long period prevailed. Music is taughtvery generally. Though very few attain any great perfection in thescience, a great many perform well enough to gratify their friends, andcontribute to the enjoyment of a social evening. You will find a pianoin every weathy Canadian's house, and even in the dwellings of most ofthe respectable mechanics. 

I never met with a Canadian girl who could not dance, and dance well. It seems born in them, and it is their favourite amusement. Polkas, waltzes, and quadrilles, are the dances most approved in their privateand public assemblies. The eight Scotch reel has, however, its admirers, and most parties end with this lively romping dance. 

Balls given on public days, such as the Queen's birthday, and bysocieties, such as the Freemasons', the Odd Fellows', and the Firemen's, are composed of very mixed company, and the highest and lowest areseen in the same room. They generally contrive to keep to their ownset--dancing alternately--rarely occupying the floor together. It issurprising the goodwill and harmony that presides in these mixedassemblies. As long as they are treated with civility, the lower classesshew no lack of courtesy to the higher. To be a spectator at one ofthese public balls is very amusing. The country girls carry themselveswith such an easy freedom, that it is quite entertaining to look at andlisten to them. At a freemasons' ball, some years ago, a very amusingthing took place. A young handsome woman, still in her girlhood, hadbrought her baby, which she carried with her into the ball-room. Onbeing asked to dance, she was rather puzzled what to do with the child;but, seeing a young lawyer, one of the _elite_ of the town, standing with folded arms looking on, she ran across the room, and, putting the baby into his arms, exclaimed--"You are not dancing, sir;pray hold my baby for me, till the next quadrille is over. " Away sheskipped back to her partner, and left the gentleman overwhelmed withconfusion, while the room shook with peals of laughter. Making the bestof it, he danced the baby to the music, and kept it in high good humourtill its mother returned. 

"I guess, " she said, "that you are a married man?"

"Yes, " said he, returning the child, "and a mason. "

"Well, I thought as much any how, by the way you acted with the baby. "

"My conduct was not quite free from selfishness--I expect a reward. "

"As how?"

"That you will give the baby to your husband, and dance the next setwith me. "

"With all my heart. Let us go a-head. "

If legs did not do their duty, it was no fault of their pretty owner, for she danced with all her strength, greatly to the amusement of heraristocratic partner. 

When we first came to Belleville, evening parties commenced at theprimitive and _rational_ hour of six o'clock, but now invitationsare issued for eight; the company, however, seldom assemble before nine, and those who wish to be very fashionable don't make their appearancebefore ten. This is rather absurd in a country, but Folly, as well asWisdom, is justified of her children. Evening parties always includedancing and music, while cards are provided for those gentlemen whoprefer whist to the society of the ladies. The evening generally closeswith a splendid supper, in which there is no lack of the good thingswhich the season affords. The ladies are always served first, thegentlemen waiting upon them at supper; and they never sit down to thetable, when the company is large, until after the ladies have returnedto the drawing-room. This custom would not be very agreeable to someEnglish epicures, but it is an universal one with Canadian gentlemen, whose politeness and attention to the other sex is one of the mostpleasing traits in their character. 

The opportunities of visiting the theatre occur very seldom, and onlycan be enjoyed by those who reside in the _cities_ of Canada. Theyoung men of the place sometimes get up an amateur performance, in whichthey act the part of both ladies and gentlemen, greatly to the delightand amusement of their audience. I must say that I have enjoyed a playin one of these private houses more than ever I did at Drury Lane orCovent Garden. The lads act with their whole hearts, and I have seenthem shed real tears over the sorrows they were called upon to pourtray. They did not feign--they really felt the part. Of course, there waslittle artistic skill, but a good deal of truth and nature. 

In the summer, riding and boating parties take the place of dancing. These are always regular picnics, each party contributing their share ofeatables and drinkables to the general stock. They commonly select somepretty island in the bay, or shady retired spot on the main land, forthe general rendezvous, where they light a fire, boil their kettles, andcook the vegetables to eat with their cold prog, which usually consistsof hams, fowls, meat pies, cold joints of meat, and abundance of tartsand cakes, while the luxury of ice is conveyed in a blanket at thebottom of one of the boats. 

These water parties are very delightful. The ladies stroll about andgather wild fruit and flowers, while the gentlemen fish. The weatherat that season of the year is sure to be fine, and the water scenerybeautiful in the extreme. Those who possess good voices sing, and theyoung folks dance on the greensward. A day spent thus happily withnature in her green domain, is one of pure and innocent enjoyment. Thereis always a reunion, in the evening, of the party, at the house of oneof the married ladies who were present at the picnic. 

In a riding party, some place is selected in the country, and thosewho are invited meet at a fixed hour on the appointed ground. TheOakhill pond, near the village of Rawdon, and about sixteen miles fromBelleville, is a very favourite spot, and is one of singular beauty. This Oakhill pond is a small, clear, and very deep lake, on the summitof a high hill. It is about two miles in circumference, and beingalmost circular, must nearly be as broad as it is long. The waters areintensely blue, the back-ground is filled up with groves of dark pine, while the woods in front are composed of the dwarf oaks and firs, which are generally found on these table lands, interspersed with lowbushes--the sandy soil abounding with every Canadian variety of wildfruits and flowers. 

There is an excellent plank road all the way from Belleville to Rawdon. The Oakhills lie a little to the left, and you approach them by a verysteep ascent, from the summit of which you obtain as fine a prospectas I have seen in this part of Canada. A vast country lies stretchedbeneath your feet, and you look down upon an immense forest, whosetree-tops, moved by the wind, cause it to undulate like a green ocean. From this spot you may trace the four windings of the bay, to itsjunction with the blue waters of the Ontario. The last time I gazed fromthe top of this hill a thunder-storm was frowning over the woods, andthe dense black clouds gave an awful grandeur to the noble picture. 

The village of Rawdon lies on the other side of this table land, quitein a valley. A bright, brisk little stream runs through it, and turnsseveral large mills. It is a very pretty rural place, and is fast risingtowards the dignity of a town. When we first came to Belleville, thespot on which Rawdon now stands belonged principally, if not altogether, to an enterprising Orkney man, Edward Fidlar, Esq. , to whose energy andindustry it mainly owes its existence. Mr. Fidlar might truly be termedthe father of the village. A witty friend suggested, that instead ofRawdon, it ought more properly to be called "Fidlar's Green. "

There is a clean country inn just at the foot of the long hill leadingto the Oakhill pond, kept by a respectable widow-woman of the name ofFairman. If the pic-nic party does not wish to be troubled with carryingbaskets of provisions so far, they send word to Mrs. Fairman the dayprevious, to prepare dinner for so many guests. This she always does inthe best possible country style, at the moderate charge of half-a-dollarper head. 

A dinner in the country in Canada, taken at the house of somesubstantial yeoman, is a very different affair from a dinner in thetown. The table literally groans with good cheer; and you cannot offer agreater affront to your hostess, than to eat sparingly of the daintiesset before you. 

They like to have several days' warning of your intended visit, thatthey may go "to trouble, " as they most truly term making suchmagnificent preparations for a few guests. I have sat down to a table ofthis kind in the country, with only Mr. M. And myself as guests, and wehave been served with a dinner that would have amply fed twenty people. Fowls of several sorts, ham, and joints of roast and boiled meat, besides quantities of pies, puddings, custards, and cakes. Cheese isinvariably offered to you with apple pie; and several little, glassdishes are ranged round your plate, for preserves, honey, and applesauce, which latter dainty is never wanting at a country feast. Themistress of the house constantly presses you to partake of all thesethings, and sometimes the accumulation of rich food on one plate, whichit is impossible for you to consume, is everything but agreeable. 

Two ladies, friends of mine, went to spend the day at one of these toohospitable entertainers. The weather was intensely hot. They had drivena long way in the sun, and both ladies had a headache, and very littleappetite in consequence. The mistress of the house went "to trouble, "and prepared a great feast for her guests; but, finding that theypartook very sparingly of her good cheer, her pride was greatly hurt, and rising suddenly from her seat, and turning to them with a sternbrow, she exclaimed, --

"I should like to know what ails my victuals, that you don't chooseto eat. "

The poor ladies explained the reason of their appetites having failedthem; but they found it a difficult matter to soothe their irritatedhostess, who declared that she would never go "to trouble" for themagain. It is of no use arguing against this amiable weakness, for aseating to uneducated people is one of the greatest enjoyments of life, they cannot imagine how they could make you more comfortable, byoffering you less food, and of a more simple kind. 

Large farmers in an old cleared country live remarkably well, and enjoywithin themselves all the substantial comforts of life. Many of themkeep carriages, and drive splendid horses. The contrast between the porkand potato diet, (and sometimes of potatoes alone without the pork), in the backwoods, is really striking. Before a gentleman from the oldcountry concludes to settle in the bush, let him first visit thesecomfortable abodes of peace and plenty. 

The Hon. R. B---, when canvassing the county, paid a round of visitsto his principal political supporters, and they literally almost killedhim with kindness. Every house provided a feast in honour of theirdistinguished guest, and he was obliged to eat at all. 

Coming to spend a quiet evening at our house, the first words he utteredwere--"If you have any regard for me, Mrs. M---, pray don't ask me toeat. I am sick of the sight of food. "

I can well imagine the amount of "trouble" each good wife hadtaken upon herself on this great occasion. 

One of the most popular public exhibitions is the circus, a sort oftravelling Astley's theatre, which belongs to a company in New York. This show visits all the large towns, once during the summer season. Theperformances consists of feats of horsemanship, gymnastics, dancing onthe tight and slack rope, and wonderful feats of agility and strength;and to those who have taste and nerve enough to admire such sights, itpossesses great attractions. The company is a large one, often exceedingforty persons; it is provided with good performers, and an excellentbrass band. The arrival of the circus is commonly announced severalweeks before it makes its actual entree, in the public papers;and large handbills are posted up in the taverns, containing coarsewoodcuts of the most exciting scenes in the performance. These uglypictures draw round them crowds of little boys, who know the whole ofthe programme by heart, long before the caravans containing the tentsand scenery arrive. Hundreds of these little chaps are up beforeday-break on the expected morning of the show, and walk out toShannonville, a distance of nine miles, to meet it. 

However the farmers may grumble over bad times and low prices, thecircus never lacks its quantum of visitors; and there are plenty ofhalf-dollars to be had to pay for tickets for themselves and theirfamilies. 

The Indians are particularly fond of this exhibition, and the town isalways full of them the day the circus comes in. 

A large tent is pitched on the open space between the Scotch church andthe old hospital, big enough to contain at least a thousand people, besides a wide area for the performance and the pit. An amphitheatre ofseats rise tier above tier, to within a few feet of the eaves of thetent, for the accommodation of the spectators; and the whole space islighted by a large chandelier, composed of tin holders, filled with verybad, greasy, tallow candles, that in the close crowded place emit a verydisagreeable odour. 

The show of horses and feats of horsemanship are always well worthseeing, but the rest grows very tiresome on frequent repetition. Personsmust be very fond of this sort of thing who can twice visit the circus, as year after year the clown repeats the same stale jests, and shows upthe same style of performers. 

The last time I went, in order to please my youngest son, I was moreamused by the antics of a man who carried about bull's-eyes andlemonade, than by any of the actors. Whenever he offered his tray ofsweets to the ladies, it was with such an affectedly graceful bend; andthrowing into his voice the utmost persuasion, he contrived to glancedown on the bulls'-eyes with half an eye, and to gaze up at the ladieshe addressed with all that remained of the powers of vision, exclaiming, with his hand on his heart, --"How sweet they a-r-e!" combining arecommendation of his bulls'-eyes with a compliment to the fair sex. 

The show opens at two o'clock, P. M. , and again at half-past seven in theevening. The people from a distance, and the young children, visit theexciting scene during the day; the town's-people at night, as it is lesscrowded, cooler, and the company more select. Persons of all ranks arethere; and the variety of faces and characters that nature exhibitsgratis, are far more amusing to watch than the feats of the Athletes. 

Then there is Barnham's travelling menagerie of wild animals, and oftame darkie melodists, who occupy a tent by themselves, and a _whitenigger_ whom the boys look upon with the same wonder they would do at awhite rat or mouse. Everybody goes to see the wild beasts, and to pokefun at the elephants. One man who, born and brought up in the Backwoods, had never seen an elephant before, nor even a picture of one, ran halffrightened home to his master, exclaiming as he bolted into the room, "Oh, sir! sir! you must let the childer go to the munjery. Shure there'ssix huge critters to be seen, with no eyes, and a tail before andbehind. "

The celebrated General Tom Thumb paid the town a visit last summer. His presence was hailed with enthusiastic delight, and people crowdedfrom the most remote settlements to gaze upon the tiny man. One poorIrishwoman insisted "that he was not a human crathur, but a poor fairychangeling, and that he would vanish away some day, and never be heardof again. " Signor Blitz, the great conjuror, occasionally pays us avisit, but his visits are like angel visits, few and far between. Hisperformance never fails in filling the large room in the court-house forseveral successive nights, and his own purse. Then we have lecturersfrom the United States on all subjects, who commonly content themselveswith hiring the room belonging to the Mechanics' Institute, wherethey hold forth, for the moderate sum of a York shilling a head, onmesmerism, phrenology, biology, phonography, spiritual communications, etc. 

These wandering lectures are often very well attended, and theirperformance is highly entertaining. Imagine a tall, thin, beardedAmerican, exhibiting himself at a small wooden desk between two dingytallow candles, and holding forth in the genuine nasal twang on thesehalf-supernatural sciences on which so much is advanced, and of which solittle is at present understood. Our lecturer, however, expresses nodoubts upon the subject of which he treats. He proves on the persons ofhis audience the truth of phrenology, biology, and mesmerism, and theindividuals he pitches upon to illustrate his facts perform their partsremarkably well, and often leave the spectators in a maze of doubt, astonishment, and admiration. 

I remember, about three years ago, going with my husband to hear thelecturers of a person who called himself Professor R---. He had beenlecturing for some nights running at the Mechanics' Institute fornothing; and had drawn together a great number of persons to hear him, and witness the strange things he effected by mesmerism on the personsof such of the audience, who wished to test his skill. This wouldhave been but a poor way of getting his living. But these Americanadventurers never give their time and labour for nothing. He obtainedtwo dollars for examining a head phrenologically, and drawing out achart; and as his lectures seldom closed without securing him a greatmany heads for inspection, our disinterested professor contrived topocket a great deal of money, and to find his cheap lectures anuncommonly profitable speculation. 

We had heard a great deal of his curing a blacksmith of _tic-douloureux_by mesmerizing him. The blacksmith, though a big, burly man, had turnedout an admirable clairvoyant, and by touching particular bumps in hiscranium, the professor could make him sing, dance, and fight all in abreath, or transport him to California, and set him to picking gold. I was very curious to witness this man's conduct under his allegedmesmeric state, and went accordingly. After a long lecture, during whichthe professor put into a deep sleep a Kentuckian giant, who travelledwith him, the blacksmith was called upon to satisfy the curiosity of thespectators. I happened to sit near this individual, and as he rose tocomply with the vociferous demands of the audience, I shall never forgetthe sidelong knowing glance he cast across the bench to a friend ofhis own; it was, without exception, the most intelligent telegraphicdespatch that it was possible for one human eye to convey to another, and said more plainly than words could--"You shall see how I can humbugthem all. " That look opened my eyes completely to the farce that wasacting before me, and entering into the spirit of the scene, I mustown that I enjoyed it amazingly. The blacksmith was mesmerised by a_look_ alone, and for half an hour went on in a most funny manner, keeping the spectators with their eyes open, and in convulsions oflaughter. After a while, the professor left him to enjoy his mesmericnap, and chose another subject, in the person of a man who had lectureda few nights before on the science of mnemonics, and had beendisappointed in a very scanty attendance. 

After a decent time had elapsed, the new subject yielded very easilyto the professor's magic passes, and fell into a profound sleep. Themesmerizer then led him, with his eyes shut, to the front of the stage, and pointed out to the spectators the phrenological development ofhis head; he then touched the bump of language, and set the seemingautomaton talking. But here the professor was caught in his own trap. After once setting him going, he of the mnemonics refused to hold histongue until he had given, to his weary listeners, the whole lecturehe had delivered a few nights before. He pranced to and fro on theplatform, declaiming in the most pedantic voice, and kept us for oneblessed hour before he would suffer the professor to deprive him of theunexpected opportunity thus afforded him of being heard. It was a drollscene: the sly blacksmith in a profound fox's sleep--the declaimerpretending to be asleep, and wide awake all the time--and the thin, long-faced American, too wise to betray his colleagues, but evidentlyannoyed beyond measure at the trick they had played him. 

I once went to hear a lecture at the Mechanics' Institute, deliveredby a very eccentric person, who styled himself the Hon. James SpencerLidstone--_the Great Orator of the West_. My astonishment may beguessed better than described, when he gave out for the subject of hislecture--"Great women, from Eve down to Mrs. M---. " Not wishing to makemyself a laughing-stock, to a pretty numerous audience, I left the room. Going up the street next morning, a venerable white-haired old man ranafter me, and pulling me by the shawl, said, "Mrs. M---, why did youleave us last night? He did you justice--indeed he did. You should havestayed and heard all the fine things he said of you. "

Besides scientific lecturers, Canada is visited by singers and musiciansof every country, and of every age and sex--from the celebrated JennyLind, and the once celebrated Braham, down to pretenders who can neithersing nor play, worth paying a York shilling to hear. Some of thesewandering musicians play with considerable skill, and are persons oftalent. Their life is one of strange vicissitudes and adventure, andthey have an opportunity of making the acquaintance of many oddcharacters. In illustration of this, I will give you a few of thetrials of a travelling musician, which I took down from the dictationof a young friend, since dead, who earned a precarious living by hisprofession. He had the faculty of telling his adventures withoutthe power of committing them to paper; and, from the simplicity andtruthfulness of his character, I have no doubt of the variety of all theamusing anecdotes he told. But he shall speak for himself in the nextchapter. 

A May-Day Carol. 

 "There's not a little bird that wings Its airy flight on high, In forest bowers, that sweetly sings So blithe in spring as I. I love the fields, the budding flowers, The trees and gushing streams; I bathe my brow in balmy showers, And bask in sunny beams. 

 "The wanton wind that fans my cheek, In fancy has a voice, In thrilling tones that gently speak-- Rejoice with me, rejoice! The bursting of the ocean-floods, The silver tinkling rills, The whispering of the waving woods, My inmost bosom fills. 

 "The moss for me a carpet weaves Of patterns rich and rare; And meekly through her sheltering leaves The violet nestles there. The violet!--oh, what tales of love, Of youth's sweet spring are thine! And lovers still in field and grove, Of thee will chaplets twine. 

 "Mine are the treasures Nature strews With lavish hand around; My precious gems are sparkling dews, My wealth the verdant ground. Mine are the songs that freely gush From hedge, and bush, and tree; The soaring lark and speckled thrush Discourse rich melody. 

 "A cloud comes floating o'er the sun, The woods' green glories fade; But hark! the blackbird has begun His wild lay in the shade. He hails with joy the threaten'd shower, And plumes his glossy wing; While pattering on his leafy bower, I hear the big drops ring. 

 "Slowly at first, but quicker now, The rushing rain descends; And to each spray and leafy bough A crown of diamonds lends. Oh, what a splendid sight appears! The sun bursts forth again; And, smiling through sweet Nature's tears, Lights up the hill and plain. 

 "And tears are trembling in my eyes, Tears of intense delight; Whilst gazing upward to the skies, My heart o'erflows my sight. Great God of nature! may thy grace Pervade my inmost soul; And in her beauties may I trace The love that form'd the whole!"

CHAPTER V

Trials of a Travelling Musician

 "The man that hath not music in his soul. "

I will say no more. The quotation, though but too true, I is too wellknown; but it will serve as the best illustration I can give to thevarious annoyances which beset the path of him who is musicallyinclined, and whose soul is in unison with sweet sounds. This was mycase. I loved music with all my heart and soul, and in order to givemyself wholly up to my passion, and claim a sort of moral right to enjoyit, I made it a profession. 

Few people have a better opportunity of becoming acquainted with theworld than the travelling musician; yet such is the absorbing nature ofhis calling, that few make use of it less. His nature is open, easy, andunsuspecting; pleased with his profession, he hopes always to convey thesame pleasure to his hearers; and though doubts will sometimes cross hismind, and the fear of ridicule make him awkward and nervous, yet, uponthe whole, he is generally sure of making a favourable impression on thesimple-hearted and generous among his hearers. 

The musician moves among his fellow-men as a sort of privileged person;for who ever suspects him of being a rogue? His first attempt to deceivewould defeat its own object, and prove him to be a mere pretender. Hishand and voice must answer for his skill, and form the only true test ofhis abilities. If tuneless and bad, the public will not fail to condemnhim. 

The adventures of the troubadours of old, if they were more full ofsentiment and romance than the every-day occurrences that beset the pathof the modern minstrel, were not more replete with odd chances andludicrous incident. Take the following for an example of the many drollthings which have happened to me during my travels. 

In the summer of 1846 I was making a professional tour through theUnited States, and had advertised a concert for the ensuing evening atthe small town of ---, and was busy making the necessary arrangements, when I was suddenly accosted, as I left the hotel, by a tall, thin, lack-a-daisical looking man, of a most unmusical and unprepossessingappearance: "How-do-ye-do? I'm highly tickled to see you. I s'pose youare going to give an extra sing here--ain't you?"

"Yes; I intend giving a concert here this evening. "

"Hem! How much dew you ax to come in? That is--I want to say--what areyou goin' to chearge a ticket?"

"Half a dollar--the usual price. "

"How?" inclining his ear towards me, as if he doubted the soundness ofthe organ. 

"Half a dollar?" repeated I, carelessly. 

"Tis tew much. You had better chearge twenty-five cents. If you dew, you'll have a pretty good house. If you make it twelve and a half cents, you'll have a _smasher_. If, mister, you'll lower that agin to six and aquarter cents, you'll have to take a field, --there ain't a house wouldhold 'em. " After a pause, scratching his head, and shuffling with hisfeet, "I s'pose you ginnerally give the profession tickets?"

"Sometimes. "

"I'm a _leetle_ in your line myself. Although I'm a shoe-maker bytrade, I leads the first Presbyterian choir upon the hill. I should liketo have you come up, if you stay long enough. "

"As that is the case, perhaps you can tell me if I am likely to have agood house to-night?"

"I kind a reckon as how you will; that is, if you don't chearge tewmuch. "

"Where shall I get the best room?"

"Well, I guess, you had better try the old meetin' house. "

"Thank you. Allow me, sir, to present you with a ticket. " I now thoughtthat I had got rid of him, and amply paid him for the information I hadreceived. The ticket was for a single admission. He took it, turned itslowly round, held it close to his eyes, spelt it carefully over, andthen stared at me. "What next?" thought I. 

"There's my wife. Well--I s'pose she'd like to come in. "

"You wish me to give you a double ticket?"

"I don't care if you dew, " again turning the new ticket in his hand;and, scratching his head more earnestly, he said, "I've one of thesmartest boys you ever seed; he's a fust-rate ear for music; he canwhistle any tune he hears right straight off. Then there's my wife'ssister a-staying with us jist now; she's very fond of music tew. "

"Perhaps, " said I, losing all patience, "you would prefer a familyticket?"

"Well; I'd be obliged. It don't cost you any, mister; and if we don'tuse it, I'll return it to-morrow. "

The stranger left me, and I saw no more of him, until I spied him in theconcert-room, with a small family of ten or twelve. Presently, anotherman and a dog arrived. Says he to the doorkeeper, "What's a-goin onhere?"

"It's a concert--admission, half-a-dollar. "

"I'm not a-goin' to give half-a-dollar to go in here. I hire a pew inthis here church by the year, and I've a right to go in whenever thedoor's open. " So in he went with his dog. 

The evening turned out very wet, and these people happened to form allmy audience; and as I did not feel at all inclined to sing for theirespecial benefit, I returned to my lodgings. I learned from mydoorkeeper the next morning, that my friends waited for an hour and ahalf for my reappearance, which could not reasonably have been expectedunder existing circumstances. 

I thought I had got rid of the musical shoemaker for ever, but no suchgood luck. Before I was out of my bed, he paid me a visit. 

"You will excuse my calling so early, " says he, "but I was anxious tosee you before you left the town. "

Wishing him at the bottom of the Mississippi, I put on my dressing gown, and slipped from my bed, whilst he continued his introductory address. 

"I was very sorry that you had not a better attendance last night; andI s'pose that accounted for your leaving us as you did. We were allkinder disappointed. You'd have had a better house, only the peoplethought there was a _leetle_ humbug about this, " and he handed me oneof my programmes. 

It is well known to most of my readers, that in writing these bills thename of the composer generally follows the song, particularly in anyvery popular compositions, such as

 Grand Introduction to Pianoforte .............. HENRY HERTZ. Life on the Ocean Wave ........................ HENRY RUSSELL. Old English Gentleman ......................... Melody by MART. LUTHER. 

"Humbug!" said I, attempting to take the bill, in order to see that nomistake had originated in the printing, but my tormentor held it fast. "Look, " said he; "Now where is Henry Hertz; and Henry Russell, where ishe? And the Old English Gentleman, Martin Luther, what has become ofhim? The folks said that he was dead, but I didn't believe that, for Ididn't think that you would have had the face to put his name in yourbill if he was. "

Thus ended my acquaintance with the enlightened shoemaker of theMississippi. I was travelling in one of the western canal boats the samesummer, and was sauntering to and fro upon the deck, admiring the beautyof the country through which we were passing, when I observed a verytall, thin-laced, sharp looking man, regarding me with very fixedattention. Not knowing who or what he was, I was at last a littleannoyed by the pertinacity of this steady stare. It was evident that hemeditated an attack upon me in some shape or other. Suddenly he came upto me, and extending his hand, exclaimed, --

"Why, Mister H---, is this you? I have not seen you since you gave your_consort_ at N---; it seems a tarnation long while ago. I thought, perhaps, you had got blowed up in one of those exploded steam-boats. But here you are as large as life--and that's not over large neither, (glancing at the slight dimensions of my figure, ) and as ready to raisethe wind as ever. I am highly gratified to meet with you, as I have oneof the greatest songs you ever he'rd to show you. If you can but set itto music, and sing it in New York city, it will immortalize you, andimmortalize me tew. "

Amused at the earnestness with which the fellow spoke, I inquired thesubject of his song. 

"Oh, 'tis des-crip-tive; 'tis tre-men-dous. It will make a sensation allover the Union. "

"But what is it about?--Have you got it with you?"

"No--no, mister; I never puts these things down on paper, lest otherfolk should find them and steal them. But I'll give you some _idee_of what it is. Look you, mister. I was going from Syracuse to Rochester, on the canal-boat. We met on our way a tre-men-dous storm. The windblew, and the rain came down like old sixty, and everything looked asblack as my hat; and the passengers got scared and wanted to get off, but the captain sung out, 'Whew--let 'em go, Jem!' and away we went atthe rate of tew miles an hour, and they could not stop. By and by westruck a rock, and down we went. "

"Indeed!" said I, "that's very unusual in a canal-boat; were any liveslost?"

"No, but we were all dreadfully sceared and covered with mud. I sat downby the _en-gine_ till I got dry, and then I wrote my pome. I will repeatwhat I can to you, and what I can't I will write right off when I getshum. --Hold on--hold on--" he continued, beating his forehead with theback of his hand, as if to awaken the powers of memory--"I have itnow--I have it now, --'tis tre-men-dous--"

 "Oh Lord, who know'st the wants of men, Guide my hand, and guide my pen, And help me bring the truth to light, Of that dread scene and awful night, Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu. There was Mister Cadoga in years a-bud, Was found next morning in tew feet mud; He strove--he strove--but all in vain, The more he got up, he fell down again. Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu. "

The poet paused for a moment to gain breath, evidently overcome bythe recollection of the awful scene. "Is not that bee-u-tiful?" heexclaimed. "What a fine effect you could give to that on the pee-a-ne, humouring the keys to imitate his squabbling about in the mud. Let metell you, mister, it would beat Russell's 'Ship on Fire' all hollow. "

Wiping the perspiration from his face, he recommenced--

 "The passengers rushed unto the spot, Together with the crew; We got him safe out of the mud, But he had lost his shoe. Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu. "

I could not listen to another line of this sublime effusion, thepassengers who had gathered around us drowning his nasal drawl in acomplete roar of laughter. Seeing that I was as much infected as therest, the poet turned to me, with an air of offended dignity, --

"I don't take the trouble, mister, to repeat any more of my _pomes_ toyou; nor do I take it kind at all, your laughing at me in that ere way. But the truth is, you can't comprehend nor appreciate anything that issublime, or out of the common way. Besides, I don't think you could setit to music; it is not in you, and you can't fix it no-how. "

This singular address renewed our mirth; and, finding myself unable tocontrol my inclination to laugh, and not wishing to hurt his feelings, Iwas about to leave him, when the man at the helm sung out, "Bridge!"

The passengers lowered their heads to ensure their safety--all but myfriend the poet, who was too much excited to notice the signal beforehe came in contact with the bridge, which sent him sprawling down thegangway. He picked himself up, clambered up the stairs, and beganstriding up and down the deck at a tremendous rate, casting from time totime indignant glances at me. 

I thought, for my part, that the man was not in his right senses, orthat the blow he had received had so dulled his bump of caution, that hecould no longer take care of himself; for the next moment he stumbledover a little child, and would have been hurt severely if I had notbroken his fall, by catching his arm before he again measured his lengthon the deck. My timely assistance mollified his anger, and he once morebecame friendly and confidential. 

"Here, take this piece of poetry, Mister H---, and see if you can set _it_to music. Mind you, it is none of mine; but though not _quite_ so good, itis som'at in my style. I cut it out of a newspaper down East. You arewelcome to it, " he continued, with a patronizing nod, "that is, if youare able to do justice to the subject. "

I took the piece of dirty crumpled newspaper from his hand; and, struckwith the droll quizzing humour of the lines, I have preserved them eversince. As I have never seen them before or since, I will give you themhere. 

To The Falls Of Niagara. 

 "I wonder how long you've been roarin' At this infernal rate; I wonder if all you've been pourin' Could be cipher'd on a slate. 

 "I wonder how such a thunderin' sounded When all New York was woods; 'Spose likely some Injins have been drownded, When the rains have raised your floods. 

 "I wonder if wild stags and buffaloes Have stood where now I stand; Well--s'pose being scared at first, they stubb'd their toes; I wonder where they'd land. 

 "I wonder if that rainbow has been shinin' Since sun-rise at creation; And this waterfall been underminin' With constant spatteration. 

 "That Moses never mention'd ye--I've wonder'd, While other things describin'; My conscience!--how ye must have foam'd and thunder'd When the deluge was subsidin'!

 "My thoughts are strange, magnificent, and deep, When I look down on thee;-- Oh, what a glorious place for washing sheep Niagara would be!

 "And oh, what a tremendous water power Is wash'd over its edge; One man might furnish all the world with flour, With a single privilege. 

 "I wonder how many times the lakes have all Been emptied over here; Why Clinton did not feed the grand Canal Up here--I think is queer. 

 "The thoughts are very strange that crowd my brain, When I look up to thee; Such thoughts I never expect to have again, To all eternity. "

After reading the lines, I begged my friend to excuse me, as I wantedto go below and take a nap. I had not been long in the cabin before hefollowed me. To get rid of him I pretended to be asleep. After passingme two or three times, and leaning over me in the most inquisitivemanner, until his long nose nearly went into my eye, and humming abow-wow tune in my ear to ascertain if I were really napping, he turnedfrom me with a dissatisfied grunt, flung himself into a settee, and notlong after was puffing and blowing like a porpoise. I was glad of thisopportunity to go on deck again, and "I left him alone in his glory. "But, while I was congratulating myself on my good fortune, I found himonce more at my side. 

Good heavens! how I wished him at the bottom of the canal, when hecommenced telling me some _awful_ dream he had had. I was too muchannoyed at being pestered with his company to listen to him, acircumstance I now rather regret, for had his dreams been equal tohis poetry, they certainly must have possessed the rare merit oforiginality; and I could have gratified my readers with somethingentirely out of the common way. 

Turning abruptly from him, I entered into conversation with anothergentleman, and quite forgot my eccentric friend until I retired for thenight, when I found him waiting for me in the cabin. 

"Ho, ho, mister, --is that you? I was afear'd we had put you ashore. What berth are you goin' to take?"

I pointed to No. 4. 

"Then, " said he, "would you have any objection to my locating in theone above you, as I feel a _leetle afear'd?_ It is so awful darkout-doors, and the clouds look tre-mend-ous black, as if they'd bea-pourin' all night. The reason why I prefer the upper berth is this, "he continued confidentially; "if we should fall in with a storm, and allgo to the bottom, I should have a better chance of saving myself. Butmind you, if she should sink I will give you half of my berth, if you'llcome up. "

I thanked him for his offer, and not being at all apprehensive, I toldhim that I preferred staying where I was. Soon after I retired, hopingto sleep, but I had not calculated on the powers of annoyance possessedby my quondam friend. I had just laid myself comfortably down, when Ifelt one of his huge feet on the side of my berth. Looking out, I espiedhim crawling up on all-fours to his place of security for the night. Hishead had scarcely touched the pillow before he commenced telling me somelong yarn; but I begged him, in no very gentle tone, to hold on till themorning, as I had a very severe headache, and wanted to go to sleep. 

I had fallen into a sort of doze, when I thought I heard some onetalking in a low voice close to my ear. I started into a sittingposture, and listened a moment. It was pitch dark; I could see nothing. I soon, however, discovered that the mysterious sounds proceeded fromthe berth above me. It was my friend reciting, either for my amusementor his own, the poem he had favoured me with in the morning. He wasapparently nearly asleep, and he drawled the half-uttered sentencesthrough his nose in the most ludicrous manner. He was recapitulatingthe disastrous condition of Mr. Cadoga:--

 "There was Mister Ca-do-ga--in years a-bud-- Next morning--tew--feet--mud-- He strove--he--but--in vain; The more he fell--down--he got up--a-g-a-in. Ri--tu--ri--tu. "

Here followed a tremendous snore, and I burst into a prolonged fit oflaughter, which fortunately did not put a stop to the sonorous bass ofmy companion overhead, whose snoring I considered far more tolerablethan his conversation. 

Just at this moment the boat struck the bank, which it frequently doesof a very dark night, which gave the vessel such a shock, that it brokethe cords that secured the poet's bed to the beam above, and down hecame, head foremost, to the floor. This accident occasioned me no smalldiscomfort, as he nearly took my berth with him. It was fortunate for methat I was awake, or he might have killed me in his descent; as it was, I had only time to throw myself back, when he rushed past me with thespeed of an avalanche, carrying bed and bed-clothes with him in oneconfused heap; and there he lay upon the floor, rolling and roaring likesome wild beast caught in a net. 

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wonder where I is; what a tre-men-dous storm--whata dreadful night--not a soul can be saved, --I knew it--I dreampt it all. Oh Lord! we shall all go to the bottom, and find eternity there--Captaincaptain--where be we?"

Here a child belonging to one of the passengers, awakened by hisbellowing, began to cry. 

"Oh, dear! Some one else sinking. --Captain--captain--confound him!I s'pose he's drownded, like the rest. Thank heaven! here's something tohold on to, to keep me from sinking;" and, clutching at the table in thedark, he upset it, and broke the large lamp that had been left upon it. Down came the broken glass upon him in a shower which, doubtless, hetook for the waves breaking over him, for he raised such a clatter withhis hands and feet, and uttered such doleful screams, that thepassengers started simultaneously from their sleep, --

"What's the matter? is that man mad or drunk?" exclaimed several voices. 

The gentleman beneath the bed-clothes again groaned forth, --"We areall lost. If I once get upon dry land, you'll never catch me in acanal-boat agin. "

Pitying his distress I got up, groped my way to the steward's berth, andsucceeded in procuring a light. When I returned to the cabin, I foundthe poet lying on the floor, with the table upon him, and he holding itfast with both hands, crying vehemently, "I will never let go. I willhang on to the last. "

"You are dreaming, " said I; "come, get up. The cords of your bed werenot strong enough to hold you, and you have got a tumble on to thefloor; nothing else is the matter with you. "

As I ceased speaking the vessel again struck the bank, and my friend, inhis eagerness to save himself, upset me, light and all. I again upsetall the small pieces of furniture in my reach, to the great amusement ofthe passengers, who were sitting up in their berths listening to; andlaughing at our conversation. We were all once more in the dark, and Ican assure my readers that my situation was everything but comfortable, as the eccentric gentleman had hold of both my legs. 

"You foolish fellow, " cried I, kicking with all my might to free myself. "There is no harm done; the boat has only struck again upon the bank. "

"Where is the bank?" said he, still labouring under the delusion that hewas in the water. "Give me a hold on it. If I can only get on the bank Ishall be safe. "

Finding it impossible to convince him how matters really stood, I lefthim to unroll himself to his full dimensions on the floor, and groping myway to a sofa, laid myself down once more to sleep. 

When the passengers met at the breakfast-table, the poor poet and hismisfortunes during the night gave rise to much quizzing and merriment, particularly when he made his appearance with a black eye, and the skinrubbed off the tip of his nose. 

One gentleman, who was most active in teasing him, cried out tome, --"Mr. H---, do try and set last night's adventures to music, andsing them this evening at your concert. They would make a _tre-men-doussensation_, I assure you. "

The poet looked daggers at us, and seizing his carpet-bag, sprang tothe deck, and from the deck to the shore, which he fortunately reachedin safety, without casting a parting glance at his tormentors. 

The Mountain Air. 

 "Rave not to me of your sparkling wine; Bid not for me the goblet shine; My soul is athirst for a draught more rare, A gush of the pure, fresh mountain air!

 "It wafts on its currents the rich perfume Of the purple heath, and the honied broom; The golden furze, and the hawthorn fair, Shed all their sweets to the mountain air. 

 "It plays round the bank and the mossy stone, Where the violet droops like a nun alone; Shrouding her eyes from the noon-tide glare, But breathing her soul to the mountain-air. 

 "It gives to my spirits a tone of mirth-- I bound with joy o'er the new-dress'd earth, When spring has scatter'd her blossoms there, And laden with balm the mountain air. 

 "From nature's fountain my nectar flows, 'Tis the essence of each sweet bud that blows; Then come, and with me the banquet share, Let us breathe together the mountain air!"

CHAPTER VI

The Singing Master

The Singing-School. 

 "Conceit's an excellent great-coat, and sticks Close to the wearer for his mortal life; It has no spot nor wrinkle in his eyes, And quite cuts out the coats of other men. " S. M. 

 "He had a fiddle sadly out of tune, A voice as husky as a raven croaking, Or owlet hooting to the clouded moon, Or bloated bull-frog in some mud-hole choking. "

During my professional journies through the country, I have often hadthe curiosity to visit the singing-schools in the small towns andvillages through which I passed. These are often taught by persons whoare perfectly ignorant of the common rules of music--men who havefollowed the plough all their lives, and know about as much of thedivine science they pretend to teach as one of their oxen. 

I have often been amused at their manner of explaining the principles oftheir art to their pupils, who profit so little by their instructions, that they are as wise at the end of their quarter as when they began. The master usually endeavours to impress upon them the importance ofmaking themselves heard, and calls him the smartest fellow who is ableto make the most noise. The constant vibration they keep up throughtheir noses gives you the idea that their teacher has been in the habitof raising sheep, and had caught many of their peculiar notes. Thisstyle he very kindly imparts to his pupils; and as apt scholarsgenerally try to imitate their master, choirs taught by theseindividuals resemble a flock of sheep going bahing one after anotherover a wall. 

I will give you a specimen of one of these schools, that I happened tovisit during my stay in the town of W---, in the western states. I donot mean to say that all music masters are like the one I am about todescribe, but he bears a very close resemblance to a great many of thesame calling, who practise their profession in remote settlements, wherethey are not likely to find many to criticise their performance. 

I had advertised a concert for the 2nd of January, 1848, to be given inthe town of W---. I arrived on the day appointed, and fortunately madethe acquaintance of several gentlemen amateurs, who happened to beboarding at the hotel to which I had been recommended. They kindlymanifested a lively interest in my success, and promised to do all intheir power to procure me a good house. 

While seated at dinner, one of my new friends received a note, which hesaid came from a singing master residing in a small village a few milesback of W---. After reading the epistle, and laughing heartily over itscontents, he gave it to me. To my great astonishment it ran as follows:--

"My Dear Roberts, "How do you do? I hope you will excuse me for troubling you on thisoccasion; but I want to ax you a partic'lar question. Is you acquaintedwith the man who is a-goin' to give a sing in your town to-night? If yoube, jist say to him, from me, that if he will come over here, we willget him up a house. If he will--or won't cum--please let me know. I amteaching a singing-school over here, and I can do a great deal for him, if he will only cum. 

 "Yours, most respectfully, "John Browne. "

"You had better go, Mr. H---, " said Roberts. "This John Browne is aqueer chap, and I promise you lots of fun. If you decide upon going wewill all accompany you, and help to fill your house. "

"By all means, " said I. "You will do me a great favour to return ananswer to the professional gentleman to that effect. I will send himsome of my programmes, and if he can get a tolerable piano, I will goover and give them a concert next Saturday evening. "

The note and the bills of performance were duly despatched to ---, andthe next morning we received an answer from the singing master to saythat all was right, and that Mr. Browne would be happy to give Mr. H---his valuable assistance; but, if possible, he wished that I could comeout on Friday, instead of Saturday, as his school met on that evening atsix o'clock, and he would like me to witness the performance of hisscholars, which would only last from five in the evening till six, andconsequently need not interfere at all with my concert, which was tocommence at eight. 

We ordered a conveyance immediately, and as it was the very daysignified in the note, we started off for the village of ---. On ourarrival we were met at the door of the only hotel in the place, by theman a "_leetle_ in my line. "

"Is this you, Mr. Thing-a-my. I can't for the life of me think of yourname. But no matter. Ain't you the chap as is a-goin' to give us thecon-sort this evening?"

I answered in the affirmative, and he continued--

"What a leetle fellow you be. Now I stand six feet four inches in myboots, and my voice is high in proportion. But I s'pose you can sing. Small fellows allers make a great noise. A bantam roaster allers crowsas loud as an game crower, to make folks believe that the dung-hill ishis'n. "

I was very much amused at his comparing me to a bantam cock, and feltalmost inclined to clap my wings and crow. 

"I have sent all your bills about town, " continued the odd man, "andinvited all the tip-tops to cum and hear you. I have engaged a goodroom, and a forty pound pee-a-ne. I s'pose it's worth as much, for 'tisa terrible smart one. It belongs to Deacon S---; and his two daughtersare the prettiest galls hereabouts. They play 'Old Dan Tucker, ' and allmanner of tunes. I found it deuced hard to get the old woman's consent;but I knew she wouldn't refuse me, as she is looking out to cotch me forone of the daughters. She made many objections--said that she wouldrather the cheese-press and the cook-stove, and all the rest of thefurniture went out of the house than the pee-a-ne, as she afear'd thatthe strings would break, and all the keys spill out by the way. Thestrings are rusty, and keys loose enough already. I told the old missusthat I would take good care that the right side was kept uppermost; andthat if any harm happened to the instrument, you could set it all rightagin. "

"I am sorry, " said I, "to hear such a poor account of the instrument. Itis impossible to sing well to a bad piano--"

"Phoo, phoo, man! there's nobody here that ever he'rd a better. Bad orgood, it's the only one in the village. I play on this pee-a-ne a_leetle_ myself, and that _ought_ to be some encouragement to you. I amgoin' to do a considerable business in the singing line here. I havestirred up all the _leetle_ girls and boys in the place, and set themwhistling an' playing on the Jew's harp. Then I goes to the old 'uns, and says to them, what genuses for music these young 'uns be! it is yourduty to improve a talent that providence has bestowed on your children. I puts on a long face, like a parson, when I talks of providence and thelike o'that, and you don't know how amazingly it takes with the oldfolks. They think that providence is allers on the look out to do themsome good turn. 

"'What do you charge, Mr. Browne?' says they, instanter. 

"Oh, a mere trifle, say I, instanter. Jist half-a-dollar a quarter--partin cash, part in _produce_. 

"''Tis cheap, ' says they agin. 

"Tew little, says I, by half. 

"'Well, the children shall go, ' says the old man. 'Missus, you see toit. '

"The children like to hear themselves called genuses, and they go intoit like smoke. When I am tuning my voice at my lodgings in the evening, just by way of recreation, the _leetle_ boys all gets round my winder tolisten to my singing. They are so fond of it I can't get them away. Theymake such a confounded noise, in trying to imitate my splendid style. But I'll leave you to judge of that for yourself. 'Spose you'll be upwith me to the singing-school, and then you will hear what I can do. "

"I shall be most happy to attend you. "

"You see, Mr. Thing-a-my, this is my first lesson, and you must make allallowances, if there should be any trouble, or that all should not goright. You see one seldom gets the hang of it the first night, no how. I have been farming most of my life, but I quits that about five weeksago, and have been studying hard for my profession ever since. I havegot a large school here, another at A--- and another at L---; andbefore the winter is over, I shall be qualified to teach at W---. Iplay the big bass fiddle and the violin right off, and--"

Here a little boy came running up to say that his father's sheep had gotout of the yard, and had gone down to Deacon S---; and, said he, "Thefolks have sent for you, Mister Browne, to cum and turn 'em out. "

"A merciful intervention of providence, " thought I, who was alreadyheartily weary of my new acquaintance, and began to be afraid that Inever should get rid of him. To tell the truth, I was so tired oflooking up at him, that I felt that I could not converse much longerwith him without endangering the elasticity of my neck, and he wouldhave been affronted if I had asked him to walk in and sit down. 

He was not very well pleased with Deacon S---'s message. 

"That comes of borrowing, mister. If I had not asked the loan of thepee-a-ne, they never would have sent for me to look arter their darnedsheep. I must go, however. I hope you'll be able to keep yourself alivein my absence. I have got to string up the old fiddle for to-night. Thesinging-school is about a mile from this. I will come down with my oldmare arter you, when its just time to be a-goin'. So good-bye. "

Away he strode at the rate of six miles an hour; his long legsaccomplishing at one step what would have taken a man of my dimensionsthree to compass. I then went into the hotel to order dinner for myfriends, as he had allowed me no opportunity to do so. The conceitedfellow had kept me standing a foot deep in snow for the last hour, whilelistening to his intolerably dull conversation. My disgust anddisappointment afforded great amusement to my friends; but in spite ofall my entreaties, they could not be induced to leave their punch and awarm fire to accompany me in my pilgrimage to the singing-school. 

We took dinner at four o'clock, and the cloth was scarcely drawn, whenmy musical friend made his appearance with the old mare, to take mealong to the school. 

Our turn-out was everything but prepossessing. A large unwieldy cutterof home manufacture, the boards of which it was composed unplained andunpainted, with rope harness, and an undressed bull's hide by way ofbuffalo's, formed our equipage. But no description that I could give youwould do justice to the old mare. A sorry beast she was--thick legged, rough coated, and of a dirty yellow-white. Her eyes, over one of which afilm was spread, were dull as the eyes of a stale fish, and her templesso hollow, that she looked as if she had been worn out by dragging thelast two generations to their graves. I was ashamed of adding one moreto the many burdens she must have borne in her day, and I almost wishedthat she had realized in her own person the well-known verse in theScotch song--

 "The auld man's mare's dead, A mile ayont Dundee, "

before I ever had set my eyes upon her. 

"Can she carry us?" said I, pausing irresolutely, with my foot on therough heavy runner of the cutter. 

"I guess she can, " quoth he. "She will skim like a bird over the snow;so get into the sleigh, and we will go straight off to thesinging-school. "

It was intensely cold. I drew the collar of my great-coat over my ears, and wrapped my half of the bull's hide well round my feet, and westarted. The old mare went better than could have been expected fromsuch a skeleton of a beast. To be sure, she had no weight of flesh toencumber her motions, and we were getting on pretty well, when the musicmaster drove too near a stump, which suddenly upset us both, and tumbledhim head foremost into a bank of snow. I fortunately rolled out a-top ofhim, and soon extricated myself from the difficulty; but I found it noeasy matter to drag my ponderous companion from beneath the snow, andthe old bull's hide in which he was completely enveloped. 

The old mare stood perfectly still, gazing with her one eye intently onthe mischief she had done, as if she never had been guilty of such abreach of manners before. After shaking the snow from our garments, and getting all right for a second start, my companion exclaimed in anagonized tone--

"My fiddle! Where, where is my fiddle? I can do nothing without myfiddle. "

We immediately went in search of it; but we did not succeed in findingit for some time. I had given it up in despair, and, half-frozen withcold, was stepping into the cutter to take the benefit of the old bull'shide, when, fortunately for the music master one of the strings of thelost instrument snapped with the cold. We followed the direction of thesound, and soon beheld the poor fiddle sticking in a snow-bank, andconcealed by a projecting stump. The instrument had sustained no otherinjury than the loss of three of the strings. 

"Well, arn't that too bad?" says he. "I have no more catgut withoutsending to W---. That's done for, at least for to-night. "

"It's very cold, " I cried, impatiently, seeing that he was in no hurryto move on. "Do let us be going. You can examine your instrument betterin the house than standing up to your knees in the snow. "

"I was born in the Backwoods, " say he; "I don't feel the cold. " Thenjumping into the cutter, he gave me the fiddle to take care of, andpointing with the right finger of his catskin gloves to a solitary houseon the top of a bleak hill, nearly a mile a-head, he said, "That whitebuilding is the place where the school is held. "

We soon reached the spot. "This is the old Methodist church, mister, anda capital place for the voice. There is no furniture or hangings tointerrupt the sound. Go right in, while I hitch the mare; I will bearter you in a brace of shakes. "

I soon found myself in the body of the old dilapidated church, andsubjected to the stare of a number of very unmusical-looking girls andboys, who, certainly from their appearance, would never have led you tosuppose that they ever could belong to a Philharmonic society. Presently, Mr. Browne made his debut. 

Assuming an air of great importance as he approached his pupils, hesaid--"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to your notice Mr. H---, the celebrated vocalist. He has cum all the way from New York onpurpose to hear you sing. "

The boys grinned at me and twirled their thumbs, the girls nudged oneanother's elbows and giggled, while their eloquent teacher continued--

"I don't know as how we shall be able to do much tonight; we upset, andthat spilt my fiddle into the snow. You see, "--holding it up--"it'sright full of it, and that busted the strings. A dropsical fiddle is nogood, no how. Jist look at the water dripping out of her. "

Again the boys laughed, and the girls giggled. Said he--

"Hold on, don't laugh; it's no laughing matter, as you'll find. "

After a long pause, in which the youngsters tried their best to lookgrave, he went on--

"Now all of you, girls and boys, give your attention to my instructionsthis evening. I'm goin' to introduce a new style, for your specialbenefit, called the Pest-a-lazy (Pestalozzi) system, now all thefashion. If you are all ready, produce your books. Hold them up. One--two--three! Three books for forty pupils? That will never do! Wecan't sing to-night; well, never mind. You see that black board; I willgive you a lesson to-night upon that. Who's got a piece of chalk?"

A negative shake of the head from all. To me: "Chalk's scarce in thesediggings. " To the boys: "What, nobody got a piece of chalk? That'sunlucky; a piece of charcoal out of the stove will do as well. "

"No 'ar won't, " roared out a boy with a very ragged coat. "They be boththe same colour. "

"True, Jenkins, for you; go out and get a lump of snow. Its darnationstrange if I can't fix it somehow. "

"Now, " thought I, "what is this clever fellow going to do?"

The boys winked at each other, and a murmur of suppressed laughter ranthrough the old church. Jenkins ran out, and soon returned with a lumpof snow. 

Mr. Browne took a small piece, and squeezing it tight, stuck it upon theboard. "Now, boys, that is Do, and that is Re, and that is Do again, andthat is Mi, this Do, and that Fa; and that, boys, is a part of what wecall a _scale_. " Then turning to a tall, thin, shabby-looking man, very much out at the elbows, whom I had not seen before, he said--"Mr. Smith, how is your _base viol?_ Hav'nt you got it tuned up yet?"

Well, squire, I guess it's complete. "

"Hold on; let me see, " and taking a tuning-fork from his pocket, andgiving it a sharp thump upon the stove, he cried out in a still louderkey--"Now, that's A; jist tune up to A. "

After Mr. Smith had succeeded in tuning his instrument, the teacherproceeded with his lucid explanations:--"Now, boys, start fair; give agrand chord. What sort of a noise do you call that? (giving a lucklessboy a thump over the head with his fiddle-stick). You bray through yournose like a jackass. I tell you to quit; I don't want discord. " The boyslunk out of the class, and stood blubbering behind the door. 

"Tune up again, young shavers! Sing the notes as I have made them onthe board, --Do, re-do, mi, do-fa. Now, when I count four commence. One--two--three--four. Sing! Hold on!--hold on! Don't you see that allthe notes are running off, and you can't sing running notes yet. "

Here he was interrupted by the noise of some one forcing their wayinto the church, in a very strange and unceremonious manner, and

 "The chorister's song, that late was so strong, Grew a quaver of consternation. "

The door burst open, and a ghastly head was protruded through theaperture. "A ghost!--a ghost!" shrieked out all the children in abreath; and jumping over the forms, they huddled around the stove, upsetting the solitary tallow candle, the desk, and the bass viol, in their flight. One lad sprang right upon the unfortunate instrument, which broke to pieces with a terrible crash. We were now left in thedark. The girls screamed, and clung round me for protection, whilethe ghastly apparition continued to stare upon us through the gloom, with its large, hollow eyes, I must confess that I felt rather queer;but I wisely kept my fears to myself, while I got as far from the dooras I possibly could. Just as our terror had reached a climax, thegrizzly phantom uttered a low, whining neigh. 

"It's the old mare! I'll be darned if it isn't!" cried one of theolder boys, at the top of his voice. This restored confidence to therest; and one rather bolder than his comrades at length ventured torelight the fallen candle at the stove, and holding it up, displayed toour view the old white mare, standing in the doorway. The poor beast hadforced her way into the porch to protect herself from the cold; and shelooked at her master, as much as to say, "I have a standing accountagainst you. " No doubt her sudden intrusion had been the means ofshortening her term of probation by at least half an hour, and ofbringing the singing-school to a close. She had been the innocent causeof disabling both the musical instruments, and Mr. Browne could notraise a correct note without them. Turning to his pupils, with a veryrueful countenance, and speaking in a very unmusical voice, but veryexpressive withal, he said--"Chore (meaning choir), you are dimissed. But, hold on!--don't be in such a darnation hurry to be off. I wasa-going to tell you, this ere gentleman, Mr. H--- (my name, for awonder, poppping into his head at that minute) is to give a _con-sort_to-morrow night. It was to have been to-night; but he changed his mindthat he might have the pleasure of hearing you. I shall assist Mr. H---in the singing department; so you must all be sure to cum. Tickets forboys over ten years, twenty-five cents; under ten, twelve and a halfcents. So you _leetle_ chaps will know what to do. The next time theschool meets will be when the fiddles are fixed. Now scamper. " Thechildren were not long in obeying the order. In the twinkling of an eyethey were off, and we heard them shouting and sky-larking in the lane. 

"Cum, Mr. H---, " said the music-master, buttoning his great-coat up tohis chin, "let us be a-goin'. "

On reaching the spot where we had left the cutter, to our greatdisappointment, we found only one-half of it remaining; the other half, broken to pieces, strewed the ground. Mr. Browne detained me for anotherhalf-hour, in gathering together the fragments. "Now you, Mr. Smith, youtake care of the crippled fiddles, while I take care of the bag of oats. The old mare has been trying to hook them out of the cutter, which hasbeen the cause of all the trouble. You, Mr. H---, mount up on the oldjade, and take along the bull's hide, and we will follow on foot. "

"Yes, " said I, "and glad of the chance, for I am cold and tired. "

Not knowing a step of the way, I let Mr. Browne and his companion goa-head; and making a sort of pack-saddle of the old hide, I curledmyself up on the back of the old mare, and left her to her own pace, which, however, was a pretty round trot, until we reached the outskirtsof the town, where, dismounting, I thanked my companions, veryinsincerely I'm afraid, for my evening's amusement, and joined myfriends at the hotel, who were never tired of hearing me recount myadventures at the singing-school. 

I had been obliged to postpone my own concert until the next evening, for I found the borrowed piano such a poor one, and so miserably out oftune, that it took me several hours rendering it at all fit for service. Before I had concluded my task, I was favoured with the company of Mr. Browne, who stuck to me closer than a brother, never allowing me out ofhis sight for a moment. This persevering attention, so little in unisonwith my feelings, caused me the most insufferable annoyance. A thousandtimes I was on the point of dismissing him very unceremoniously, byinforming him that I thought him a most conceited, impertinent puppy;but for the sake of my friend Roberts, who was in some way related tothe fellow, I contrived to master my anger. About four o'clock he jumpedup from the table, at which he had been lounging and sipping hot punchat my expense for the last hour, exclaiming--

"I guess it's time for me to see the pee-a-ne carried up to the con-sortroom. "

"It's all ready, " said I. "Perhaps, Mr. Browne, you will oblige me bysinging a song before the company arrives, that I may judge how far yourstyle and mine will agree;" for I began to have some horrible misgivingson the subject. "If you will step upstairs, I will accompany you on thepiano. I had no opportunity of hearing you sing last night. "

"No, no, " said he, with a conceited laugh; "I mean to astonish you byand by. I'm not one of your common amateurs, no how. I shall producequite a sensation upon your audience. "

So saying, he darted through the door, and left me to finish myarrangements for the night. 

The hour appointed for the concert at length arrived. It was a clear, frosty night, the moon shining as bright as day. A great number ofpersons were collected about the doors of the hotel, and I had everyreason to expect a full house. I was giving some directions to mydoor-keeper, when I heard a double sleigh approaching at an uncommonrate; and looking up the road, I saw an old-fashioned, high-backedvehicle, drawn by two shabby-looking horses, coming towards the hotel atfull gallop. The passengers evidently thought that they were too late, and were making up for lost time. 

The driver was an old farmer, and dressed in the cloth of the country, with a large capote of the same material drawn over his head andweather-beaten face, which left his sharp black eyes, red nose, and widemouth alone visible. He flourished in his hand a large whip of raw hide, which ever and anon descended upon the backs of his rawboned cattle likethe strokes of a flail. 

"Get up--go along--waye, " cried he, suddenly drawing up at the doorof the hotel. "Well, here we be at last, and jist in time for thecon-sort. " Then hitching the horses to the post, and flinging thebuffalo robes over them, he left the three females he was driving inthe sleigh, and ran directly up to me, --"Arn't you the con-sort man?I guess you be, by them ere black pants and Sunday-goin' gear. "

I nodded assent. 

"What's the damage?"

"Half a dollar. "

"Half a dollar? You don't mean to say that!"

"Not a cent less. "

"Well, it will be _expensive_. There's my wife and two darters, andmyself; and the galls never seed a con-sort. "

"Well, " said I, "as there are four of you, you may come in at a dollarand a half. "

"How; a dollar and a harf! I will go and have a talk with the old woman, and hear what she says to it. "

He returned to the sleigh, and after chatting for a few minutes with thewomen, he helped them out, and the four followed me into the commonreception room of the inn. The farmer placed a pail of butter on thetable, and said with a shrewd curl of his long nose, and a wink from oneof his cunning black eyes, "There's some pretty good butter, mister. "

I was amused at the idea, and replied, "Pretty good butter! What is thatto me? I do not buy butter. "

"Not buy butter! Why you don't say! It is the very best article in themarket jist now. "

For a bit of fun I said, --"Never mind; I will take your butter. Whatis it worth?"

"It was worth ten cents last week, mister; I don't know what it's worthnow. It can't have fallen, no-how. "

I took my knife from my pocket, and in a very business-like mannerproceeded to taste the article. "Why, " said I, "this butter is notgood. "

Here a sharp-faced woman stepped briskly up, and poking her head betweenus, said, at the highest pitch of her cracked voice, --"Yes, it is good;it was made this morning _express-ly_ for the _con-sort_. "

"I beg your pardon, madam. I am not in the habit of buying butter. Tooblige you, I will take this. How much is there of it?"

"I don't know. Where are your steelyards?"

"Oh, " said I, laughing, "I don't carry such things with me. I will takeit at your own valuation, and you may go in with your family. "

"'Tis a bargain, " says she. "Go in, galls, and fix yourselves for the_con-sort_. "

As the room was fast filling, I thought it time to present myself to thecompany, and made my entrance, accompanied by that incorrigible pest, the singing master, who, without the least embarrassment, took his seatby the piano. After singing several of my best songs, I invited him totry his skill. 

"Oh, certainly, " said he; "to tell you the truth, I am a _leetle_su rprised that you did not ask me to lead off. "

"I would have done so; but I could not alter the arrangement of theprogramme. "

"Ah, well, I excuse you this time, but it was not very polite, to saythe least of it. " Then, taking my seat at the piano with as muchconfidence as Braham ever had, he run his hand over the keys, exclaiming"What shall I sing? I will give you one of Russell's songs; they suit myvoice best. Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to favour you by singingHenry Russell's celebrated song, 'I love to roam, ' and accompany myselfupon the pee-a-ne-forty. "

This song is so well known to most of my readers, that I can describehis manner of singing it without repeating the whole of the words. Hestruck the instrument in playing with such violence that it shook hiswhole body, and produced the following ludicrous effect:

 "Some love to ro-o-o-a-me O'er the dark sea fo-o-ome, Where the shrill winds whistle fre-e-e; But a cho-o-sen ba-a-and in a mountain la-a-a-and, And life in the woo-o-ds for me-e-e. "

This performance was drowned in an uproar of laughter, which brought ourvocalist to a sudden stop. 

"I won't sing another line if you keep up that infernal noise, " heroared at the top of his voice. "When a fellow does his best, he expectshis audience to appreciate his performance; but I allers he'rd as howthe folks at W--- knew nothing about music. "

"Oh, do stop, " exclaimed an old woman, rising from her seat, and shakingher fist at the unruly company, --"can't yee's; he do sing _butiful_; andhis voice in the winds do sound so _natural_, I could almost hear them an'owling. It minds me of old times, it dew. "

This voluntary tribute to his genius seemed to console and reassure thesinging master, and, stemming with his stentorian voice the torrentof mistimed mirth, he sang his song triumphantly to the end; and theclapping of hands, stamping of feet, and knocking of benches, were trulydeafening. 

"What will you have now?" cried he. "I thought you would comprehend goodsinging at last. "

"Give them a comic song, " said I, in a whisper. 

"A comic song! (aloud) Do you think that I would waste my talentsin singing trash that any jackass could bray? No, sirra, my styleis purely _sentimental_. I will give the ladies and gentlemen the'Ivy Green. '"

He sang this beautiful original song, which is decidedly Russell's best, much in the same style as the former one, but, getting a little used tohis eccentricities, we contrived to keep our gravity until he came tothe chorus, "Creeping, creeping, creeping, " for which he substituted, "crawling, crawling, crawling, " when he was again interrupted by such aburst of merriment that he was unable to crawl any further. 

"Well, " said he, rising; "if you won't behave, I will leave theinstrument to Mr. H---, and make one of the audience. "

He had scarcely taken his seat, when the farmer from whom I had boughtthe butter forced his way up to the piano. Says he, "There's that pail;it is worth ten cents and a half. You must either pay the money, orgive me back the pail. --(Hitching up his nether garments)--I s'poseyou'll do the thing that's right. "

"Oh, certainly, there are twelve and a half cents. "

"I hav'nt change, " said he, with a knowing look. 

"So much the better; keep the difference. "

"Then we're square, mister, " and he sank back into his place. 

"Did he pay you the money?" I heard the wife ask in an anxious tone. 

"Yes, yes; more than the old pail was worth by a long chalk. I'd like todeal with that chap allers. "

I now proceeded with the concert. The song of the drowning child savedby the Newfoundland dog drew down thunders of applause. When theclamour had a little subsided, a tall man rose from his seat at theupper end of the room, and, after clearing his throat with several loudhems, he thus addressed me, --"How do you do, Mr. H---? I am glad, sir, to make your acquaintance. This is my friend, Mr. Derby, " drawinganother tall man conspicuously forward before all the spectators. "He, tew, is very happy to make your acquaintance. We both want to know ifthat dog you have been singing about belongs to you. If so, we should beglad to buy a pup. " He gravely took his seat, amid perfect yells ofapplause. It was impossible to be heard in such a riot, and I closed theadventures of the evening by giving out "'Hail, Columbia, ' to be sung byall present. " This _finale_ gave universal satisfaction, and thevoice of my friend the singing master might be heard far above the rest. 

I was forced, in common politeness, to invite Mr. Browne to partake ofthe oyster supper I had provided for my friends from W---. "Will youjoin our party this evening, Mr. Browne?"

"Oh, by all manner of means, " said he, rubbing his hands together in asort of ecstasy of anticipation; "I knew that you would do the thinghandsome at last. I have not tasted an i'ster since I sang at Niblo'sin New York. But did we not come on famously at the _con-sort?_Confess, now, that I beat you holler. You sing _pretty_ well, butyou want confidence. You don't give expression enough to your voice. The applause which followed my first song was tremendous. "

"I never heard anything like it, Mr. Browne. I never expect to meritsuch marks of public approbation. "

"All in good time, my _leetle_ friend, " returned he, clapping mefamiliarly on the shoulder. "Rome was not built in a day, and you area young man--a very young man--and very _small_ for your age. Your voicewill never have the volume and compass of mine. But I smell the i'sters:let's in, for I'm tarnation hungry. "

Gentle reader! you would have thought so to have seen him eat. Mycompanions looked rather disconcerted at the rapidity with which theydisappeared within his capacious jaws. After satisfying his enormousappetite, he washed down the oysters with long draughts of porter, untilhis brain becoming affected, he swung his huge body back in his chair, and, placing his feet on the supper-table, began singing in goodearnest, --not one song in particular, but a mixture of all that hadappeared in the most popular Yankee song books for the last ten years. 

I wish I could give you a specimen of the sublime and the ridiculous, thus unceremoniously huddled together. The effect was so irresistible, when contrasted with the grave exterior of the man; that we laugheduntil our side ached at his absurdities. Exhausted by his constantvociferations, the musician at length dropped from his chair in adrunken sleep upon the floor, and we carried him into the next room andput him to bed; and, after talking over the events of the evening, weretired about midnight to our respective chambers, which all opened intothe great room in which I held the concert. 

About two o'clock in the morning my sleep was disturbed by the mostdismal cries and groans, which appeared to issue from the adjoiningapartment. I rubbed my eyes, and sat up in the bed and listened, when Irecognized the well-known voice of the singing master, exclaiming intones of agony and fear--"Landlord! landlord! cum quick. Somebody cum. Landlord! landlord! there's a man under my bed. Oh, Lord! I shall bemurdered! a man under my bed!"

As I am not fond of such nocturnal visitors myself, not being muchgifted with physical strength or courage, I listened a moment to hear ifany one was coming. The sound of approaching footsteps along the passagegreatly aided the desperate effort I made to leave my comfortablepillow, and proceed to the scene of action. At the chamber door I metthe landlord, armed with the fire-tongs and a light. 

"What's all this noise about?" he cried in an angry tone. 

I assured him that I was as ignorant as himself of the cause of thedisturbance. Here the singing master again sung out--

"Landlord! landlord! there's a _man_ under the _bed_. Cum! somebody cum!"

We immediately entered his room, and were joined by two of my friendsfrom W---. Seeing our party strengthened to four, our courage roseamazingly, and we talked loudly of making mincemeat of the intruder, kicking him down stairs, and torturing him in every way we could devise. We found the singing master sitting bolt upright in his bed, hissmall-clothes gathered up under his arm ready for a start; his faceas pale as a sheet, his teeth chattering, and his whole appearanceindicative of the most abject fear. We certainly did hear verymysterious sounds issuing from beneath the bed, which caused the boldestof us to draw back. 

"He is right, " said Roberts; "there is some one under the bed. "

"What a set of confounded cowards you are!" cried the landlord; "can'tyou lift the valance and see what it is?"

He made no effort himself to ascertain the cause of the alarm. Roberts, who, after all, was the boldest man of the party, seized the tongs fromthe landlord, and, kneeling cautiously down, slowly raised the draperythat surrounded the bed. "Hold the light here, landlord. " He did so, but at arm's length. Roberts peeped timidly into the dark void beyond, dropped the valance, and looked up with a comical, quizzing expression, and began to laugh. 

"What is it?" we all cried in a breath. 

"Landlord! landlord!" he cried, imitating the voice of the singingmaster, "cum quick! Somebody cum! There's a dog under the bed! He willbite me! Oh, dear! oh, dear! I shall die of hydrophobia. I shall besmothered in a feather-bed!"

"A dog!" said the landlord. 

"A dog!" cried we all. 

"Aye, a black dog. "

"You don't say!" cried the singing master, springing from his bed. "Where is he? I'm able for _him_ any how. " And seizing a corn broom thatstood in a corner of the room, he began to poke at the poor animal, andbelabour him in the most unmerciful manner. 

The dog, who belonged to a drover who penned his cattle in the inn-yardfor the night, wishing to find a comfortable domicile, had taken aprivate survey of the premises when the people were out of the way, andmade his quarters under Mr. Browne's bed. When that worthy commencedsnoring, the dog, to signify his approbation at finding himself in thecompany of some one, amused himself by hoisting his tail up and down;now striking the sacking of the bed, and now tapping audibly against thefloor. These mysterious salutations became, at length, so frequent andvehement that they awoke the sleeper, who, not daring to ascertain thecause of the alarm, aroused the whole house with his clamours. 

Mr. Browne finding himself unable to thrash the poor brute out of hisretreat, and having become all of a sudden very brave, crawled under thebed and dragged the dog out by his hind legs. 

"You see I'm enough for him; give me the poker, and I'll beat out hisbrains. "

"You'll do no such thing, sir, " said the landlord, turning the animaldown the stairs. "The dog belongs to a quiet decent fellow, and a goodcustomer, and he shall meet with no ill usage here. Your mountain, Mr. Browne, has brought forth a mouse. "

"A dog sir, " quoth the singing master, not in the least abashed by thereproof. "If the brute had cut up such a dido under your bed, you wouldhave been as 'turnal sceared as I was. "

"Perhaps, Mr. Browne, " said I, "you took it for the ghost of the oldmare?"

"Ghost or no ghost, " returned the landlord, "he has given us a greatdeal of trouble, and nearly frightened himself into fits. "

"The fear was not all on my side, " said the indignant vocalist; "and Ilook upon you as the cause of the whole trouble. "

"As how?"

"If the dog had not cum to your house, he never would have found his wayunder my bed. When I pay for my night's lodging, I don't expect to haveto share it with a strange dog--no how. "

So saying he retreated, grumbling, back to his bed, and we gladlyfollowed his example. 

I rose early in the morning to accompany my friends to W---. At thedoor of the hotel I was accosted by Mr. Browne--

"Why, you arn't goin' to start without bidding me good-bye? Besides, youhave not paid me for my assistance at the _con-sort_. "

I literally started with surprise at this unexpected demand. "Do youexpect a professional price for your services?"

"Well, I guess the _con-sort_ would have been nothing without my help; butI won't be hard upon you, as you are a young beginner, and not likely tomake your fortune in that line any how. There's that pail of butter; ifyou don't mean to take it along, I'll take that; we wants butter to hum. Is it a bargain?"

"Oh, yes; if you are satisfied, I am well pleased. " (I could have added, to get rid of you at any price. ) "You will find it on the table in thehall. "

"Not exactly; I took it hum this morning--I thought how it would end. Good-bye to you, Mr. H---. If ever you come this way again, I shall behappy to lend you my assistance. "

I never visited that part of the countryside since, but I have no doubtthat Mr. Browne is busy in his vocation, and flattering himself that heis one of the first vocalists in the Union. I think he should change hisresidence, and settle down for life in _New Harmony_. 

To Adelaide, [1]A Beautiful Young Canadian Lady. 

 "Yes, thou art young, and passing fair; But time, that bids all blossoms fade, Will rob thee of the rich and rare; Then list to me, sweet Adelaide. He steals the snow from polish'd brow, From soft bewitching eyes the blue, From smiling lips their ruby glow, From velvet cheeks their rosy hue. 

 "Oh, who shall check the spoiler's power?-- 'Tis more than conquering love may dare; He flutters round youth's summer bower, And reigns o'er hearts like summer fair. He basks himself in sunny eyes, Hides 'mid bright locks, and dimpled smiles; From age he spreads his wings and flies, -- Forgets soft vows, and pretty wiles. 

 "The charms of mind are ever young, Their beauty never owns decay; The fairest form by poet sung, Before their power must fade away. The mind immortal wins from time Fresh beauties as its years advance; Its flowers bloom fresh in every clime-- They cannot yield to change and chance. 

 "E'en over love's capricious boy They hold an undiminish'd sway; For chill and storm can ne'er destroy The blossoms of eternal day. Then deem these charms, sweet Adelaide, The brightest gems in beauty's zone: Make these thine own, --all others fade; They live when youth and grace are flown. "

[1] The daughter of Colonel Coleman, of Belleville; now Mrs. Easton. 

CHAPTER VII

Camp Meetings

 "On--on!--for ever brightly on, Thy lucid waves are flowing: Thy waters sparkle as they run, Their long, long journey going. " S. M. 

We have rounded Ox Point, and Belleville is no longer in sight. Thesteamboat has struck into mid channel, and the bold shores of the PrinceEdward District are before us. Calmly we glide on, and islands andheadlands seem to recede from us as we advance; and now they are farin the distance, half seen through the warm purple haze that restsso dreamily upon woods and waters. Heaven is above us, and anotherheaven--more soft, and not less beautiful--lies mirrored beneath; andwithin that heaven are traced exquisite forms of earth--trees, andflowers, and verdant slopes, and bold hills, and barren rugged rocks. The scene is one of surpassing loveliness, and we open our hearts toreceive its sweet influences, while our eyes rest upon it with intensedelight, and the inner voice of the soul whispers--God is here! Dostthou not catch the reflection of his glory in this superb picture ofNature's own painting, while the harmony that surrounds his throne isfaintly echoed by the warm balmy wind that stirs the lofty branches ofthe woods, and the waves that swell and break in gentle undulationagainst these rocky isles?

 "So smiled the heavens upon the vestal earth, The morn she rose exulting from her birth; A living harmony, a perfect plan Of power and beauty, ere the rebel man Defiled with sin, and stain'd with kindred blood, The paradise his God pronounced as good. "

That rugged point to the left contains a fine quarry of limestone, whichsupplies excellent building materials. The stones are brought by themeans of a scow, a very broad flat-bottomed boat, to Belleville, wherethey are sawn into square blocks, and dressed for doors sills andfacings of houses. A little further on, the Salmon river discharges itswaters into the bay, and on its shores the village of Shannonville hasrisen, as if by magic, within a very few years. Three schooners are justnow anchored at its mouth, receiving cargoes of sawn lumber to carryover to Oswego. The timber is supplied from the large mill, the din ofwhose machinery can be heard distinctly at this distance. Lumber forms, at present, the chief article of export from this place. Upwards of onemillion of sawn lumber was shipped from this embryo town during the pastyear. 

Shannonville owes its present flourishing prospects to the energy andenterprise of a few individuals, who saw at a glance its capabilities, and purchased for a few hundred pounds the site of a town which is nowworth as many thousands. The steamboats do not touch at Shannonville, intheir trips to and from Kingston. The mouth of the river is too narrowto admit a larger vessel than a schooner, but as the place increases, wharfs will be built at its entrance into the bay. 

On the road leading from Belleville to this place, which is in thedirect route to Kingston, there is a large tract of plain land which isstill uncultivated. The soil is sandy, and the trees are low and farapart, a natural growth short grass and flowering shrubs giving it verymuch the appearance of a park. Clumps of butternut, and hiccory trees, form picturesque groups; and herds of cattle, belonging to the settlersin the vicinity, roam at large over these plains that sweep down to thewater's edge. This is a very favourite resort of summer parties, asyou can drive light carriages in all directions over this elevatedplatform. It used formerly to be a chosen spot for camp-meetings, andall the piously disposed came hither to listen to the preachers, and"get religion. "

I never witnessed one of these meetings, but an old lady gave me a verygraphic description of one of them that was held on this spot somethirty years ago. There were no churches in Belleville then, and thetravelling Methodist ministers used to pitch their tents on theseplains, and preach night and day to all goers and comers. A pulpit, formed of rough slabs of wood, was erected in a conveniently open spaceamong the trees, and they took it by turns to read, exhort, and pray, to the dwellers in the wilderness. At right they kindled large fires, which served both for light and warmth, and enabled the pilgrims tothis sylvan shrine to cook their food, and attend to their wants oftheir little ones. Large booths, made of the boughs of trees, shelteredthe worshippers from the heat of the sun during the day, or from theoccasional showers produced by some passing thunder cloud at night. 

"Our bush farm, " said my friend, "happened to be near the spot, and Iwent with a young girl, a friend and neighbour, partly out of curiosityand partly out of fun, to hear the preaching. It was the middle of July, but the weather was unusually wet for that time of year, and everytent and booth was crowded with men, women, and children, all huddledtogether to keep out of the rain. Most of these tents exhibited someextraordinary scene of fanaticism and religious enthusiasm; the noiseand confusion were deafening. Men were preaching at the very top oftheir voice; women were shrieking and groaning, beating their breastsand tearing their hair, while others were uttering the most franticoutcries, which they called _ejaculatory prayers_. One thought possessedme all the time, that the whole assembly were mad, and that theyimagined God to be deaf, and that he could not hear them without theirmaking this shocking noise. It would appear to you like the grossestblasphemy were I to repeat to you some of their exclamations; but oneor two were so absurdly ridiculous, that I cannot help giving them asI heard them. 

"One young woman, after lying foaming and writhing upon the ground, like a creature possessed, sprang up several feet into the air, exclaiming, 'I have got it! I have got it! I have got it!' To whichothers responded--'Keep it! keep it! keep it!' I asked a bystanderwhat she meant. He replied, 'she has got religion. It is the Spiritthat is speaking in her. ' I felt too much shocked to laugh out, yetcould scarcely retain my gravity. 

"Passing by one of the tents, I saw a very fat woman lying upon a benchon her face, uttering the most dismal groans, while two well-fed, sleek-looking ministers, in rusty black coats and very dirty-lookingwhite chokers, were drumming upon her fat back with their fists, exclaiming--'Here's glory! here's glory, my friends! Satan is departingout of this woman. Hallelujah!' This spectacle was too shocking toprovoke a smile. 

"There was a young lady dressed in a very nice silk gown. Silk was avery scarce and expensive article in those days. The poor girl gotdreadfully excited, and was about to fling herself down upon the wetgrass, to show the depth of her humility and contrition, when shesuddenly remembered the precious silk dress, and taking a shawl of lessvalue from her shoulders, carefully spread it over the wet ground. 

"Ah, my dear friend, " continued the old lady, "one had a deal to learnat that camp-meeting. A number of those people knew no more what theywere about than persons in a dream. They worked themselves up to a pitchof frenzy, because they saw others carried away by the same spirit; andthey seemed to try which could make the most noise, and throw themselvesinto the most unnatural positions. Few of them carried the religiouszeal they manifested in such a strange way at that meeting, into theirown homes. Before the party broke up it was forgotten, and they werelaughing and chatting about their worldly affairs. The young lads weresparking the girls, and the girls laughing and flirting with them. Iremarked to an old farmer, who was reckoned a very pious man, 'that suchconduct, in persons who had just been in a state of despair about theirsins, was very inconsistent, to say the least of it;' and he replied, with a sanctimonious smile--'It is only the Lord's lambs, playingwith each other. '"

These camp-meetings seldom take place near large towns, where the peoplehave the benefit of a resident minister, but they still occur on theborders of civilization, and present the same disorderly mixture offanaticism and vanity. 

More persons go for a frolic than to obtain any spiritual benefit. Inillustration of this, I will tell you a story which a very beautifulyoung married lady told to me with much glee, for the thing happenedto herself, and she was the principal actor in the scene. 

"I had an aunt, the wife of a very wealthy yeoman, who lived in one ofthe back townships of C---, on the St. Lawrence. She was a very piousand hospitable woman, and none knew it better than the travellingministers, who were always well fed and well lodged at her house, particularly when they assembled to hold a camp-meeting, which tookplace once in several years in that neighbourhood. 

"I was a girl of fifteen, and was staying with my aunt for the benefitof the country-air, when one of these great gatherings took place. Having heard a great deal about their strange doings at these meetings, I begged very hard to be allowed to make one of the spectators. My aunt, who knew what a merry, light-hearted creature I was, demurred for sometime before she granted my request. 

"'If the child does not _get religion_, ' she said, 'she will turn it allinto fun, and it will do her more harm than good. '

"Aunt was right enough in her conjunctures; but still she entertained alatent hope, that the zeal of the preachers, the excitement of thescene, and the powerful influence produced by the example of the pious, might have a beneficial effect on my young mind, and lead to myconversion. Aunt had herself been reclaimed from a state of carelessindifference by attending one of these meetings, and at last it wasdetermined that I was to go. 

"First came the ministers, and then the grand feed my aunt had preparedfor them, before they opened the campaign. Never shall I forget howthose holy men devoured the good things set before them. I stood gazingupon them in utter astonishment, wondering when their meal would come toan end. They none wore whiskers, and their broad fat faces literallyshone with high feeding. When I laughed at their being such excellentknife and fork men, aunt gravely reproved my levity, by saying, 'thatthe labourer was worthy of his hire; and that it would be a great sin tomuzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn; that field preaching was avery exhausting thing, and that these pious men required a great deal ofnourishment to keep up their strength for the performance of good work. '

"After they were gone, I dressed and accompanied my aunt to the scene ofaction. 

"It was a lovely spot, about a mile from the house. The land rose in agentle slope from the river, and was surrounded on three sides by loftywoods. The front gave us a fine view of the St. Lawrence, rushing alongin its strength, the distant murmur of the waves mingling with the sighof the summer breeze, that swept the dense foliage of the forest trees. The place had been cleared many years before, and was quite free fromstumps and fallen timber, the ground carpeted with soft moss and verdantfresh looking turf. 

"The area allotted for the meeting was fenced around with the long thintrunks of sapling trees, that were tied together with strips ofbass-wood. In the centre of the enclosure was the platform for thepreachers, constructed of rough slabs, and directly behind this ruralpulpit was a large tent connected with it by a flight of board steps. Here the preachers retired, after delivering their lectures, to rest andrefresh themselves. Fronting the platform was a sort of amphitheatreof booths, constructed of branches of trees, and containing benchesof boards supported at either end by a round log laid lengthwise atthe sides of the tent. Behind these rough benches persons had placedmattrasses, which they had brought with them in their waggons, that suchas came from a distance might not want for a bed during their stay--someof these meetings lasting over a week. 

"The space without the enclosure was occupied by a double line of carts, waggons, light carriages, and ox sleds, while the animals undivested oftheir harness were browsing peacefully among the trees. The inner spacewas crowded with persons of all classes, but the poorer certainlypredominated. Well dressed, respectable people, however, were notwanting; and though I came there to see and to be seen, to laugh and tomake others laugh, I must confess that I was greatly struck with theimposing and picturesque scene before me, particularly when a number ofvoices joined in singing the hymn with which the service commenced. "

There is something very touching in this blending of human voices in theopen air--this choral song of praise borne upwards from the earth, andascending through the clear atmosphere to heaven. Leaving my friend andher curious narrative for a few minutes, I must remark here the powerfuleffect produced upon my mind by hearing "God save the King, " sung by thethousands of London on the proclamation of William IV. It was impossibleto distinguish good or bad voices in such a mighty volume of sound, which rolled through the air like a peal of solemn thunder. It thrilledthrough my heart, and paled my cheek. It seemed to me the united voiceof a whole nation rising to the throne of God, and it was the grandestcombination of sound and sentiment that ever burst upon human ears. Long, long may that thrilling anthem rise from the heart of England, instrains of loyal thanksgiving and praise, to the throne of that EternalPotentate in whose hand is the fate of princes!

"There were numbers of persons who, like myself, came there foramusement, and who seemed to enjoy themselves quite as much as I did. The preaching at length commenced with a long prayer, followed by anadmonitory address, urging those present to see their danger, repentof their sins, and flee from the wrath to come. 

"Towards the middle of his discourse, the speaker wrought himself upinto such a religious fury that it became infectious, and cries andgroans resounded on all sides; and the prayers poured out by repentantsinners for mercy and pardon were heart-rending. The speaker at lengthbecame speechless from exhaustion, and stopping suddenly in the midst ofhis too eloquent harangue, he tied a red cotton handkerchief round hishead, and hastily descended the steps, and disappeared in the tentprovided for the accommodation of the ministers. His place was instantlysupplied by a tall, dark, melancholy looking man, who, improving uponhis reverend brother's suggestions, drew such an awful picture of thetorments endured by the damned, that several women fainted, while otherswere shrieking in violent hysterics. 

"I had listened to the former speaker with attention and respect, butthis man's violent denunciations rather tended to harden my heart, andmake me resist any religious feeling that had been growing up in mybreast. I began to tire of the whole thing, and commenced looking aboutfor some object that might divert my thoughts into a less gloomychannel. 

"The bench on which I, together with a number of persons, was sitting, was so insecurely placed on the round rolling logs that supported it, that I perceived that the least motion given to it at my end wouldcapsize it, and bring all the dear groaning creatures who were sittingupon it, with their eyes turned up to the preacher, sprawling on theground. 

"'Would it not be glorious fun?' whispered the spirit ofmischief--perhaps the old one himself--in my ears. 'I can _do it_, andI _will do it_--so here goes!' As I sat next to the round log thatsupported my end of the plank, I had only to turn my face that way, andapply my foot like a lever to the round trunk, on which the end of thebench had the slightest possible hold, and the contemplated downfallbecame a certainty. No sooner thought than done. The next moment old andyoung, fat and lean, women and children, lay sprawling together on theground, in the most original attitudes and picturesque confusion. I, formy part, was lying very comfortably on one of the mattrasses, laughinguntil real tears, but not of contrition, streamed down my face. 

"Never shall I forget a fat old farmer, who used to visit at my aunt's, as he crawled out of the human heap on all fours, and shook his head atme--

"'You wicked young sinner, this is all your doings. '

"Before the storm could burst upon me, I got up and ran laughing out ofthe tent, and hid myself among the trees to enjoy my wicked thoughtsalone. Here I remained for a long time, watching, at a safe distance, the mad gesticulations of the preacher, who was capering up and down onthe platform, and using the most violent and extravagant language, untilat length, overcome by his vehemence, he too tied the invariable redhandkerchief round his head, and tumbled back into the tent, to besucceeded by another and another. 

"Night, with all her stars, was now stealing upon us; but the lightfrom a huge pile of burning logs, and from torches composed of fat pine, and stuck in iron grates supported on poles in different parts of theplain, scattered the darkness back to the woods, and made it as light asnoon-day. 

"The scene was now wild in the extreme: the red light streamed upon themoving mass of human beings who pressed around the pulpit, glaring uponclenched fists and upturned faces, while the preacher standing abovethem, and thrown into strong relief, with his head held back and hishands raised towards heaven, looked like some inspired prophet of old, calling down fire from heaven to consume the ungodly. It was a spectacleto inspire both fear and awe, but I could only view it in the mostabsurd light, and laugh at it. 

"At length I was determined to know what became of the preachers, aftertying the red handkerchief round their heads and retreating to theirtents. I crept carefully round to the back of this holy of holies, andapplying my eyes to a little aperture in the canvas, I saw by the lightof a solitary candle several men lying upon mattrasses fast asleep, their noses making anything but a musical response to the hymns andprayers without. While I was gazing upon these prostrate forms, thussoundly sleeping after the hubbub and excitement their discourse hadoccasioned among their congregation, the last speaker hastily enteredthe tent, and flinging himself on to the floor, exclaimed, in a sort ofecstacy of gratitude--'Well, thank God my task is ended for the night;and now for a good sleep!'

"While I was yet pondering these things in my heart, I felt the grasp ofa hand upon my shoulder. I turned with a shriek; it was my aunt seekingme. 'What are you doing here?' she said, rather angrily. 

"'Studying my lesson, aunt, ' said I, gravely, pointing to the sleepers. 'Do these men preach for their own honour and glory, or for the glory ofGod? I have tried to find out, but I can't tell. '

"'The night's grown chilly, child, ' said my aunt, avoiding the answer Iexpected; 'it is time you were in bed. '

"We went home. I got a sound lecture for the trick I had played, and Inever went to a camp-meeting again; yet, in spite of my bad conduct as achild, I believe they often do good, and are the means of makingcareless people think of the state of their souls. "

Though the steamboats do not stop at Shannonville, they never fail to doso at the pretty town of Northport, on the other side of the bay, inorder to take in freight and passengers. 

Northport rises with a very steep slope from the water's edge, and thesteamer runs into the wharf which projects but a few feet froth theshore. Down the long hill which leads to the main street, men and boysare running to catch a sight of the steamboat, and hear the news. All isbustle and confusion. Barrels of flour are being rolled into the boat, and sheep and cattle are led off--men hurry on board with trunks andcarpet-bags--and women, with children in their arms or led by thehand, hasten on board;--while our passengers, descending to thewharf, are shaking hands with merchants and farmers, and talking overthe current prices of grain and merchandise at their respective towns. The bell rings--the cable that bound us to the friendly wharf is castoff and flung on the deck the steamer opens her deep lungs, and we areonce more stemming our way towards Kingston. 

While we sail up that romantic part of the Bay of Quinte, called the"Long Reach, " at the head of which stands the beautiful town of Picton, I will give you a few reminiscences of Northport. It is a most quiet andprimitive village, and one might truly exclaim with Moore--

 "And I said if there's peace to be found on the earth, The heart that is humble might hope for it here. "

No gentler picture of society in a new country could be found, than theone exhibited by the inhabitants of Northport. The distinctions, unavoidable among persons of wealth and education, are hardly felt orrecognised here. Every one is a neighbour in the strictest sense of theword and high and low meet occasionally at each other's houses. Even thedomestics are removed by such a narrow line of demarcation, that theyappear like members of one family. 

The Prince Edward district, one of the wealthiest rural districts inUpper Canada, was settled about sixty years ago by U. E. Loyalists; andits inhabitants are mainly composed of the descendants of Dutch andAmerican families. They have among them a large sprinkling of Quakers, who are a happy, hospitable community, living in peace and brotherlykindness with all men. 

The soil of this district is of the best quality for agriculturalpurposes; and though the march of improvement has been slow, whencompared with the rapid advance of other places that possessed fewerlocal advantages, it has gone on steadily progressing, and the surfaceof a fine undulating country is dotted over with large well-clearedfarms, and neat farmhouses. 

One of the oldest and wealthiest inhabitants of Northport, Captain---, is a fine specimen of the old school of Canadian settlers; one ofnature's gentlemen, a man respected and beloved by all who know him, whose wise head, and keen organs of observation, have rendered him ahighly intelligent and intellectual man, without having received thebenefit of a college education. His house is always open for thereception of friends, neighbours, and strangers. He has no childrenof his own, but has adopted several orphan children, on whom he hasbestowed all the affection and care of a real parent. 

This system of adopting children in Canada is one of great benevolence, which cannot be too highly eulogized. Many an orphan child, who would becast utterly friendless upon the world, finds a comfortable home withsome good neighbour, and is treated with more consideration, and enjoysgreater privileges, than if his own parents had lived. No differenceis made between the adopted child and the young ones of the family; itis clothed, boarded, and educated with the same care, and a strangerwould find it difficult to determine which was the real, which thetransplanted scion of the house. 

Captain --- seldom dines alone; some one is always going and coming, stepping in and taking pot-luck, by accident or invitation. But theCaptain can afford it. Sociable, talkative, and the soul of hospitality, he entertains his guests like a prince. "Is he not a glorious oldfellow?" said our beloved and excellent chief-justice Robinson;"Captain --- is a credit to the country. " We echoed this sentimentwith our whole heart. It is quite a treat to make one of his uninvitedguests, and share the good-humoured sociability of his bountiful table. 

You meet there men of all grades and conditions, of every partyand creed, --the well-educated, well-dressed clergymen of theEstablishment, and the travelling dispensers of gospel truths, withshabbier coats and less pretensions. No one is deemed an intruder--allfind excellent cheer, and a hearty welcome. 

Northport does not want its native poet, though the money-makingmerchants and farmers regard him with a suspicious and pitying eye. Themanner in which they speak of his unhappy malady reminds me of what anold Quaker said to me regarding his nephew, Bernard Barton--"FriendSusanna, it is a great pity, but my nephew Bernard is sadly addicted toliterature. "

So Isaac N---, gentleman farmer of the township of Ameliasburgh, issadly gifted with the genuine elements of poetry, and, like Burns, composes verses at the plough-tail. I have read with great pleasure somesweet lines by this rural Canadian bard; and were he now beside me, instead of "Big bay" lying so provokingly between, I would beg from hima specimen of his rhyming powers, just to prove to my readers that thegenuine children of song are distinguished by the same unmistakeablecharacteristics in every clime. 

I remember being greatly struck by an overcoat, worn by a clergyman Ihad the pleasure of meeting many years ago at this village, which seemedto me a pretty good substitute for the miraculous purse of Fortunatus. The garment to which I allude was long and wide, and cut round somewhatin the shape of a spencer. The inside lining formed one capaciouspocket, into which the reverend gentleman could conveniently stow awaynewspapers, books, and sermons, and, on a pinch, a fat fowl, a bottle ofwine, or a homebaked loaf of bread. On the present occasion, the kindmistress of the house took care that the owner should not travel withit empty; so, to keep him fairly balanced on his horse, she stowed awayinto this convenient garment such an assortment of good things, that Isat and watched the operation in curious amazement. 

Some time after I happened to dine with a dissenting minister at Mr. ---'s hous e. The man had a very repulsive and animal expression; heate so long and lustily of a very fat goose, that he began to look veryuncomfortable, and complained very much of being troubled with _dyspepsy_after his meals. He was a great teetotaller, or professed to be one, butcertainly had forgotten the text, "Be ye moderate in all things;" for heby no means applied the temperance system to the substantial creaturecomforts, of which he partook in a most immoderately voracious manner. 

"I know what would cure you, Mr. R---, " said my friend, who seemed toguess at a glance the real character of his visitor; "but then I knowthat you would never consent to make use of such a remedy. "

"I would take anything that would do me good, " said black-coat witha sigh. 

"What think you of a small wine-glass of brandy just before takingdinner?"

"Against my principles, Sir; it would never do, " with a lugubrious shakeof the head. 

"There is nothing on earth so good for your complaint. "

"Do you _reelly_ think it would serve me?" with a sudden twinkle ofhis heavy fishy eyes. 

"Not a doubt of the fact" (pouring out a pretty large dram); "it willkill the heartburn, and do away with that uncomfortable feeling youexperience after eating rich food. And as to principles, your pledgeallows it in case of disease. "

"True, " said black-coat, coquetting with the glass; "still I should besorry to try an _alcoholic_ remedy while another could be found. "

"Perhaps you would prefer _eating less_, " said my friend slyly, "which, I have been told by a medical man, is generally a certain cure ifpersevered in. "

"Oh, ah, yes. But, Sir, my constitution would never stand that. I thinkfor _once_ I will try the effect of your first prescription; but, remember, it is only _medicinally_. "

The next moment the glass was returned to the table empty, and the goodman took his leave. 

"Now, Mr. ---, was it not too bad of you to make that man break hispledge?" observed a person at table. 

"My dear Sir, that man requires very little temptation to do that. Thetotal abstinence of a glutton is entirely for the public. "

The houses built by the Dutch settlers have very little privacy, as onebed-chamber invariably opens into another. In some cases, the sleepingapartments all open into a common sitting-room occupied by the family. To English people, this is both an uncomfortable and very unpleasantarrangement. 

I slept for two nights at Mr. ---'s house, with my husband, and ourdormitory had no egress but through another bed-chamber; and as thathappened to be occupied on the first night by a clergyman, I had to waitfor an hour, after my husband was up and down stairs rejoicing in thefresh air of a lovely summer morning, before I could escape from mychamber, --my neighbour; who was young and very comely, taking a longtime for his prayers, and the business of the toilet. 

My husband laughed very heartily at my imprisonment, as he termed it;but the next day I had the laugh against him, for our sleepingneighbours happened to be a middle-aged Quaker, with a very sicklydelicate wife. I, of course, was forced to go to bed when she did, or beobliged to pass through her chamber after brother Jonathan had retiredfor the night. This being by no means desirable, I left a veryinteresting argument, in which my husband, the Quaker, and the poet werefighting an animated battle on reform principles, against the clergymanand my very much respected Tory host. How they got on I don't know, forthe debate was at its height when I was obliged to beat my retreat tobed. 

After an hour or so I heard Jonathan tumble upstairs to bed, andwhile undressing he made the following very innocent remark to hiswife, --"Truly, Hannah, I fear that I have used too many words tonight. My uncle is a man of many words, and one is apt to forget the rules ofprudence when arguing with him. "

If the use of many words was looked upon as a serious transgression byhonest Jonathan, my husband, my friend, and the poet, must have beenvery guilty men, for they continued their argument until the "sma' hoursayont the twal. "

My husband had to pass through the room occupied by the Friends, inorder to reach mine, but he put a bold face upon the matter, and plungedat once through the difficulty, the Quaker's nose giving unmistakeablenotice that he was in the land of Nod. The pale sickly woman just openedher dreamy black eyes, but hid them instantly beneath the bed-clothes, and the passage, not of arms, but of the bed-chamber, was won. 

The next morning we had to rise early to take the boat, and Jonathan wasup by the dawn of day; so that I went through as bold as a lion, and wasbusily employed in discussing an excellent breakfast, while my poorpartner was sitting impatiently nursing his appetite at the foot of hisbed, and wishing the pale Quakeress across the bay. The steamer was insight before he was able to join us at the breakfast-table. I had now myrevenge, and teased him all the way home on being kept a prisoner, withonly a sickly woman for a jailor. 

A young lady gave me an account of a funeral she witnessed in thisprimitive village, which may not be uninteresting to my English readers, as a picture of some of the customs of a new country. 

The deceased was an old and very respectable resident in the township;and as the Canadians delight in large funerals, he was followed to hislast home by nearly all the residents for miles round. 

The use of the hearse is not known in rural districts, and, indeed, isseldom used in towns or cities here. The corpse is generally carried tothe grave, the bearers being chosen from among the gentlemen of mostnote in the neighbourhood, who, to the honour of the country be itspoken, never refuse to act on these mournful occasions. These walkingfunerals are far more imposing and affecting spectacles than the hearsewith its funeral plumes; and the simple fact of friends and neighboursconveying a departed brother to his long home, has a more solemn andtouching effect upon the mind, than the train of hired mourners andempty state-carriages. 

When a body is brought from a distance for interment, it is conveyed ina waggon, if in summer, spring, or autumn, and on a sleigh during thewinter season, and is attended to the grave by all the respectableyeomen in the township. 

I cannot resist the strong temptation of digressing from my presentsubject, in order to relate a very affecting instance I witnessed at oneof these funerals of the attachment of a dog to his deceased master, which drew tears from my eyes, and from the eyes of my children. 

The body of a farmer had been brought in a waggon from one of the backtownships, a distance of twenty or thirty miles, and was, as usual insuch cases, attended by a long train of country equipages. My housefronted the churchyard, and from the windows you could witness the wholeof the funeral ceremonial, and hear the service pronounced over thegrave. When the coffin was lifted by the stalwart sons of the deceasedfrom the waggon, and the procession formed to carry it into the church, I observed a large, buff Flemish dog fall into the ranks of themourners, and follow them into the sacred edifice, keeping as near thecoffin as those about it would permit him. After the service in thechurch was ended, the creature persevered in following the belovedremains to the grave. When the crowd dispersed, the faithful animalretired to some distance, and laid himself quietly down upon a grave, until the sexton had finished his mournful task, and the last sod wasplaced upon the fresh heap that had closed for ever over the form heloved. 

When the man retired, the dog proceeded to the spot, walked carefullyround it, smelt the earth, lifted his head, and uttered the mostunearthly howls. He then endeavoured to disinter the body, by digging alarge hole at one end of the grave; but finding that he could not effecthis purpose, he stretched himself at full length over it, as if to guardthe spot, with his head buried between his fore-paws, his wholeappearance betokening the most intense dejection. 

All that day and night, and the next day and night, he never quitted hispost for an instant, at intervals smelling the earth, and uttering thosemournful, heart-rending cries. My boys took him bread and meat, andtried to coax him from the grave; but he rejected the food and theircaresses. The creature appeared wasted and heartbroken with grief. Towards noon of the third day, the eldest son of his late master came insearch of him; and the young man seemed deeply affected by this instanceof the dog's attachment to his father. Even his well-known voice failedto entice him from the grave, and he was obliged to bring a collar andchain, and lift him by force into his waggon, to get him from his post. 

Oh, human love! is thy memory and thy faith greater than the attachmentof this poor, and, as we term him, unreasoning brute, to his deadmaster? His grief made an impression on my mind, and on that of mychildren, which will never be forgotten. 

But to return to the village funeral. The body in this case was borne tothe church by the near relatives of the deceased; and a clergyman ofthe establishment delivered a funeral sermon, in which he enumeratedthe good qualities of the departed, his long residence among them, anddescribed the trials and hardships he had encountered as a first settlerin that district, while it was yet in the wilderness. He extolled hisconduct as a good citizen, and faithful Christian, and a public-spiritedman. His sermon was a very complete piece of rural biography, verycurious and graphic in its way, and was listened to with the deepestattention by the persons assembled. 

When the discourse was concluded, and the blessing pronounced, one ofthe sons of the deceased rose and informed the persons present, that ifany one wished to take a last look of the dear old man, now was thetime. 

He then led the way to the aisle, in which the coffin stood upon thetressels, and opening a small lid in the top, revealed to theastonishment of my young friend the pale, ghastly face of the dead. Almost every person present touched either the face, hands, or brow ofthe deceased; and after their curiosity had been fully satisfied, theprocession followed the remains to their last resting-place. This partof the ceremony concluded, the indifferent spectators dispersed to theirrespective homes, while the friends and relations of the dead manreturned to dine at the house of one of his sons, my friend making oneof the party. 

In solemn state the mourners discussed the merits of an excellentdinner, --the important business of eating being occasionally interruptedby remarks upon the appearance of the corpse, his age, the disease ofwhich he died, the probable division of his property, and the meritsof the funeral discourse. This was done in such a business-likematter-of-fact manner, that my friend was astonished how the bloodrelations of the deceased could join in these remarks. 

After the great business of eating was concluded the spirits of theparty began to flag. The master of the house perceiving how matters weregoing, left the room, and soon returned with a servant bearing a traywith plates and fork, and a large dish of hiccory nuts. The mournersdried their tears, and set seriously to work to discuss the nuts, andwhile deeply engaged with their mouse-like employment, forgot for awhiletheir sorrow for the dead, continuing to keep up their spirits until theannouncement of tea turned their thoughts into a new channel. By thetime all the rich pies, cakes, and preserves were eaten, their feelingsseemed to have subsided into their accustomed everyday routine. 

It is certain that death is looked upon by many Canadians more as amatter of business, and a change of property into other hands, than asa real domestic calamity. I have heard people talk of the approachingdissolution of their nearest ties with a calm philosophy which I nevercould comprehend. "Mother is old and delicate; we can't expect her tolast long, " says one. "My brother's death has been looked for theseseveral months past; you know he's in the consumption. " My husband askedthe son of a respectable farmer, for whom he entertained an esteem, howhis father was, for he had not seen him for some time? "I guess, " wasthe reply, "that the old man's fixing for the other world. " Anotheryoung man, being asked by my friend, Captain ---, to spend the eveningat his house, replied--"No, can't--much obliged; but I'm afear'dthat grandfather will give the last kicks while I'm away. "

Canadians flock in crowds to visit the dying, and to gaze upon the dead. A doctor told me that being called into the country to visit a very sickman, he was surprised on finding the wife of his patient sitting alonebefore the fire ill the lower room, smoking a pipe. He naturallyinquired if her husband was better?

"Oh, no, sir, far from that; he is dying!"

"Dying! and _you_ here?"

"I can't help that, sir. The room is so crowded with the neighbours, that I can't get in to wait upon him. "

"Follow me, " said the doctor. "I'll soon make a clearance for you. "

On ascending the stairs that led to the apartment of the sick man, hefound them crowded with people struggling to get in, to take a peep atthe poor man. It was only by telling them that he was the doctor, thathe forced his way to the bedside. He found his patient in a high fever, greatly augmented by the bustle, confusion, and heat, occasioned by somany people round him. With great difficulty he cleared the room ofthese intruders, and told the brother of his patient to keep every onebut the sick man's wife out of the house. The brother followed thedoctor's advice, and the man cheated the curiosity of the death-seekers, and recovered. 

The Canadians spend a great deal of money upon their dead. An old ladytold me that her nephew, a very large farmer, who had the misfortuneto lose his wife in childbed, had laid out a great deal of money--alittle fortune she termed it--on her grave-clothes. "Oh, my dear, " shesaid, "it is a thousand pities that you did not go and see her beforeshe was buried. She was dressed so expensively, and she made such abeautiful corpse! Her cap was of real thread lace, trimmed with whiteFrench ribbons, and her linen the finest that could be bought in thecountry. "

The more ostentatious the display of grief for the dead, the less I havealways found of the reality. I heard two young ladies, who had recentlylost a mother, not more than sixteen years older than the eldest of thetwain, lamenting most pathetically that they could not go to a publicball, because they were in mourning for ma'! Oh, what a pitiful farce isthis, of wearing mourning for the dead! But as I have a good deal to sayto sensible people on that subject, I will defer my long lecture untilthe next chapter. 

Random Thoughts. 

 "When is Youth's gay heart the lightest?-- When the torch of health burns brightest, And the soul's rich banquet lies In air and ocean, earth and skies; Till the honied cup of pleasure Overflows with mental treasure. 

 "When is Love's sweet dream the sweetest?-- When a kindred heart thou meetest, Unpolluted with the strife, The selfish aims that tarnish life; Ere the scowl of care has faded The shining chaplet Fancy braided, And emotions pure and high Swell the heart and fill the eye; Rich revealings of a mind Within a loving breast enshrined, To thine own fond bosom plighted, In affection's bonds united: The sober joys of after years Are nothing to those smiles and fears. 

 "When is Sorrow's sting the strongest?-- When friends grow cold we've loved the longest, And the bankrupt heart would borrow Treacherous hopes to cheat the morrow; Dreams of bliss by reason banish'd, Early joys that quickly vanish'd, And the treasured past appears Only to augment our tears; When, within itself retreating, The spirit owns life's joys are fleeting, Yet, racked with anxious doubts and fears, Trusts, blindly trusts to future years. 

 "Oh, this is grief, the preacher saith, -- The world's dark woe that worketh death! Yet, oft beneath its influence bowed, A beam of hope will burst the cloud, And heaven's celestial shore appears Slow rising o'er the tide of years, Guiding the spirit's darkling way Through thorny paths to endless day. Then the toils of life are done, Youth and age are both as one; Sorrow never more can sting, Neglect or pain the bosom wring; And the joys bless'd spirits prove, Far exceeds all earthly love!"

CHAPTER VIII

Wearing Mourning for the Dead

 "What is death?--my sister, say. " "Ask not, brother, breathing clay. Ask the earth on which we tread, That silent empire of the dead. Ask the sea--its myriad waves, Living, leap o'er countless graves!" "Earth and ocean answer not, Life is in their depths forgot. " Ask yon pale extended form, Unconscious of the coming storm, That breathed and spake an hour ago, Of heavenly bliss and penal woe;-- Within yon shrouded figure lies "The mystery of mysteries!" S. M. 

Among the many absurd customs that the sanction of time and thearbitrary laws of society have rendered indispensable, there is not onethat is so much abused, and to which mankind so fondly clings, asthat of _wearing mourning for the dead!_--from the ostentatious publicmourning appointed by governments for the loss of their rulers, down tothe plain black badge, worn by the humblest peasant for the death ofparent or child. 

To attempt to raise one feeble voice against a practice sanctioned byall nations, and hallowed by the most solemn religious rites, appearsalmost sacrilegious. There is something so beautiful, so poetical, sosacred, in this outward sign of a deep and heartfelt sorrow, that todeprive death of his sable habiliments--the melancholy hearse, funeralplumes, sombre pall, and a long array of drooping night-clad mourners, together with the awful clangour of the doleful bell--would rob thestern necessity of our nature of half its terrors, and tend greatly todestroy that religious dread which is so imposing, and which affordssuch a solemn lesson to the living. 

Alas! Where is the need of all this black parade? Is it not a reproachto Him, who, in his wisdom, appointed death to pass upon all men? Werethe sentence confined to the human species, we might have more reasonfor these extravagant demonstrations of grief; but in every objectaround us we see inscribed the mysterious law of change. The verymountains crumble and decay with years; the great sea shrinks and growsagain; the lofty forest tree, that has drank the dews of heaven, laughedin the sunlight, and shook its branches at a thousand storms, yields tothe same inscrutable destiny, and bows its tall forehead to the dust. 

Life lives upon death, and death reproduces life, through endlesscircles of being, from the proud tyrant man down to the blind worm hisiron heel tramples in the earth. Then wherefore should we hang out thisblack banner for those who are beyond the laws of change and chance?

 "Yea, they have finish'd: For them there is no longer any future. No evil hour knocks at their door With tidings of mishap--far off are they, Beyond desire or fear. "

It is the dismal adjuncts of death which have invested it with thosesuperstitious terrors that we would fain see removed. The gloom arisingfrom these melancholy pageants forms a black cloud, whose dense shadowobscures the light of life to the living. And why, we ask, should deathbe invested with such horror? Death in itself is not dreadful; it is butthe change of one mode of being for another--the breaking forth of thewinged soul from its earthly chrysalis; or, as an old Latin poet has sohappily described it--

 "Thus life for ever runs its endless race, Death as a line which but divides the space-- A stop which can but for a moment last, A _point_ between the _future_ and the _past_. "

Nature presents in all her laws such a beautiful and wonderful harmony, that it is as impossible for death to produce discord among them, asfor night to destroy, by the intervention of its shadow, the splendourof the coming day. Were men taught from infancy to regard death as anatural consequence, a fixed law of their being, instead as an awfulpumshment for sin--as the friend and benefactor of mankind, not theremorseless tyrant and persecutor--to die would no longer be consideredan evil. Let this hideous skeleton be banished into darkness, andreplaced by a benignant angel, wiping away all tears, healing allpain, burying in oblivion all sorrow and care, calming every turbulentpassion, and restoring man, reconciled to his Maker, to a state ofpurity and peace; young and old would then go forth to meet him withlighted torches, and hail his approach with songs of thanksgiving andwelcome. 

And this is really the case with all but the desperately wicked, whoshow that they despise the magnificent boon of life by the bad use theymake of it, by their blasphemous defiance of God and good, and theirunwillingness to be renewed in his image. 

The death angel is generally met with more calmness by the dying thanby surviving friends. By the former, the dreaded enemy is hailed as amessenger of peace, and they sink tranquilly into his arms, with a smileupon their lips. 

The death of the Christian is a beautiful triumph over the fears oflife. In Him who conquered death, and led captivity captive, he findsthe fruition of his being, the eternal blessedness promised to him inthe Gospel, which places him beyond the wants and woes of time. Thedeath of such a man should be celebrated as a sacred festival, notlamented as a dreary execution, --as the era of a new birth, not theextinction of being. 

It is true that death is a profound sleep, from which no one can awakento tell his dreams. But why on that account should we doubt that it isless blessed than its twin brother, whose resemblance it bears, andwhose presence we all sedulously court? Invest sleep, however, with thesame dismal garb; let your bed be a coffin, your canopy a pall, yournight-dress a shroud; let the sobs of mourners, and the tolling of bellslull you to repose, --and few persons would willingly, or tranquilly, close their eyes to sleep. 

And then, this absurd fashion of wearing black for months and years forthe dead; let us calmly consider the philosophy of the thing, its useand abuse. Does it confer any benefit on the dead? Does it afford anyconsolation to the living? Morally or physically, does it produce theleast good? Does it soften one regretful pang, or dry one bitter tear, or make the wearers wiser or better? If it does not produce any ultimatebenefit, it should be at once discarded as a superstitious relic of morebarbarous times, when men could not gaze on the simple, unveiled face oftruth, but obscured the clear daylight of her glance under a thousandfantastic masks. 

The ancients were more consistent in their mourning than the civilizedpeople of the present day. They sat upon the ground and fasted, withrent garments, and ashes strewn upon their heads. This mortification ofthe flesh was a sort of penance inflicted by the self-tortured mournerfor his own sins, and those of the dead. If this grief were not of adeep or lasting nature, the mourner found relief for his mental agoniesin humiliation and personal suffering. He did not array himself in silk, and wool, and fine linen, and garments cut in the most approved fashionof the day, like our modern beaux and belles, when they testify to thepublic their grief for the loss of relation or friend, in the mostexpensive and becoming manner. 

Verily, if we must wear our sorrow upon our sleeve, why not return tothe sackcloth and ashes, as the most consistent demonstration of thatgrief which, hidden in the heart, surpasseth show. 

But, then, sackcloth is a most unmanageable material. A handsome figurewould be lost, buried, annihilated, in a sackcloth gown; it would be sohorribly rough; it would wound the delicate skin of a fine lady; itcould not be confined in graceful folds by clasps of jet, and pearl, and ornaments in black and gold. "Sackcloth? Faugh!--away with it. Itsmells of the knotted scourge and the charnel-house. " We, _too_, say, "Awaywith it!" True grief has no need of such miserable provocatives to woe. 

The barbarians who cut and disfigured their faces for the dead, showed anoble contempt of the world, by destroying those personal attractionswhich the loss of the beloved had taught them to despise. But who nowwould have the fortitude and self-denial to imitate such an example?The mourners in crape, and silk, and French merino, would rather _diethemselves_ than sacrifice their beauty at the shrine of such a monstroussorrow. 

How often have I heard a knot of gossips exclaim, as some widow of agentleman in fallen circumstances glided by in her rusty weeds, "Whatshabby black that woman wears for her husband! I should be ashamed toappear in public in such faded mourning. "

And yet, the purchase of that _shabby black_ may have cost the desolatemourner and her orphan children the price of many a necessary meal. Ah, this putting of a poor family into black, and all the funeral trappingsfor pallbearers and mourners, what a terrible affair it is! what anxiousthoughts! what bitter heartaches it costs!

But the usages of society demand the sacrifice, and it must be made. Thehead of the family has suddenly been removed from his earthly toils, ata most complicated crisis of his affairs, which are so involved thatscarcely enough can be collected to pay the expenses of the funeral, andput his family into decent mourning, but every exertion must be made todo this. The money that might, after the funeral was over, have paid therent of a small house, and secured the widow and her young family fromactual want, until she could look around and obtain some situation inwhich she could earn a living for herself and them, must all be sunk inconforming to a useless custom, upheld by pride and vanity in the nameof grief. 

"How will the funeral expenses ever be paid?" exclaims the anxious, weeping mother. "When it is all over, and the mourning bought, therewill not remain a single copper to find us in bread. " The sorrow ofobtaining this useless outward show of grief engrosses all the availablemeans of the family, and that is expended upon the dead which might, with careful management, have kept the living from starving. Oh, vanityof vanities! there is no folly on earth that exceeds the vanity of this!

There are many persons who put off their grief when they put on theirmourning, and it is a miserable satire on mankind to see thesesomber-clad beings in festal halls mingling with the gay and happy, their melancholy garments affording a painful contrast to lightlaughter, and eyes sparkling with pleasure. 

Their levity, however, must not be mistaken for hypocrisy. The world isin fault, not they. Their grief is already over, --gone like a cloudfrom before the sun; but they are forced to wear black for a _giventime_. They are true to their nature, which teaches them that "nogrief with man is permanent, " that the storms of to-day will not darkenthe heavens to-morrow. It is complying with a _lying custom_ makesthem _hypocrites_; and, as the world always judges by appearances, it so happens that by adhering to one of its conventional rules, appearances in this instance are against them. 

Nay, the very persons who, in the first genuine outburst of naturalgrief besought them to moderate their sorrow, to dry their tears, and becomforted for the loss they had sustained, are among the _first_ tocensure them for following advice so common and useless. Tears are asnecessary to the afflicted as showers are to the parched earth, and arethe best and sweetest remedy for excessive grief. 

To the mourner we would say--Weep on; nature requires your tears. Theyare sent in mercy by Him who wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus. The man of sorrows himself taught us to weep. 

We once heard a very beautiful volatile young lady exclaim, withsomething very like glee in her look and tone, after reading a lettershe had received by the post, with its ominous black bordering andseal--"Grandmamma is dead! We shall have to go into deep mourning. I am so glad, for black is so becoming to me!"

An old aunt, who was present, expressed her surprise at this indecorousavowal; when the young lady replied, with great _naivete_--"I neversaw grandmamma in my life. I cannot be expected to feel any grief forher death. "

"Perhaps not, " said the aunt. "But why, then, make a show of that whichyou do not feel?"

"Oh, it's the custom of the world. You know we must. It would beconsidered _shocking_ not to go into very _deep_ mourning for such anear relation. "

The young lady inherited a very nice legacy, too, from her grandmamma;and, had she spoken the truth, she would have said, "I cannot weep forjoy. "

Her mourning, in consequence, was of the deepest and most expensivekind; and she really did look charming in her "love of a black crapebonnet!" as she skipped before the glass, admiring herself and it, whenit came home fresh from the milliner's. 

In contrast to the pretty young heiress, we knew a sweet orphan girlwhose grief for the death of her mother, to whom she was devotedlyattached, lay deeper than this hollow tinsel show; and yet the painfulthought that she was too poor to pay this mark of respect to the memoryof her beloved parent, in a manner suited to her birth and station, added greatly to the poignancy of her sorrow. 

A family who had long been burthened with a cross old aunt, who was amartyr to rheumatic gout, and whose violent temper kept the whole housein awe, and whom they dared not offend for fear of her leaving herwealth to strangers, were in the habit of devoutly wishing the old ladya happy release from her sufferings. When this long anticipated event atlength took place, the very servants were put into the deepest mourning. What a solemn farce--we should say, lie--was this!

The daughters of a wealthy farmer had prepared everything to attend thegreat agricultural provincial show. Unfortunately, a grandfather towhom they all seemed greatly attached died most inconveniently the daybefore, and as they seldom keep a body in Canada over the second day, hewas buried early in the morning of the one appointed for their journey. They attended the remains to the grave, but after the funeral was overthey put off their black garments and started for the show, and did notresume them again until after their return. People may think this veryshocking, but it was not the laying aside the black that was so, but thefact of their being able to go from a grave to a scene of confusion andgaiety. The black clothes had nothing to do with this want of feeling, which would have remained the same under a black or a scarlet vestment. 

A gentleman in this neighbourhood, since dead, who attended a publicball the same week that he had seen a lovely child consigned to theearth, would have remained the same heartless parent dressed in thedeepest sables. 

No instance that I have narrated of the business-like manner inwhich Canadians treat death, is more ridiculously striking than thefollowing:--

The wife of a rich mechanic had a brother lying, it was supposed, atthe point of death. His sister sent a note to me, requesting me torelinquish an engagement I had made with a sewing girl in her favour, asshe wanted her immediately to make up her mourning, the doctor havingtold her that her brother could not live many days. 

"Mrs. --- is going to be beforehand with death, " I said, as I gave thegirl the desired release. "I have known instances of persons being toolate with their mourning to attend a funeral, but this is the first timeI ever heard of it being made in anticipation. "

After a week the girl returned to her former employment. 

"Well, Anne, is Mr. --- dead?"

"No, ma'am, nor likely to die this time; and his sister is so vexed thatshe bought such expensive mourning, and all for no purpose!"

The brother of this provident lady is alive to this day, the husband ofa very pretty wife, and the father of a family, while she, poor body, has been consigned to the grave for more than three years. 

During her own dying illness, a little girl greatly disturbed her sickmother with the noise she made. Her husband, as an inducement to keepthe child quiet, said, "Mary, if you do not quit that, I'll whip you;but if you keep still like a good girl, you shall go to ma's funeral. "

An artist cousin of mine was invited, with many other members of theRoyal Academy, to attend the funeral of the celebrated Nollekens thesculptor. The party filled twelve mourning coaches, and were furnishedwith silk gloves, scarfs, and hatbands, and a dinner was provided afterthe funeral was over at one of the large hotels. "A merrier set than wewere on that day, " said my cousin, "I never saw. We all got jovial, andit was midnight before any of us reached our respective homes. The wholeaffair vividly brought to my mind that description of the 'Gondola, 'given so graphically by Byron, that it

 'Contain'd much fun, Like mourning coaches when the funeral's done. '"

Some years ago I witnessed the funeral of a young lady, the only childof very wealthy parents, who resided in of Bedford-square. The heiressof their enviable riches was a very delicate, fragile-looking girl, andon the day that she attained her majority her parents gave a largedinner party, followed by a ball in the evening, to celebrate the event. It was during the winter; the night was very cold, the crowded roomsoverheated, the young lady thinly but magnificently clad. She tooka chill in leaving the close ballroom for the large, ill-warmedsupper-room, and three days after, the hope of these rich people layinsensible on her bier. 

I heard from every one that called upon Mrs. L---, the relative andfriend with whom I was staying, of the magnificent funeral would begiven to Miss C---. Ah, little heeded that pale crushed flower ofyesterday, the pomp that was to convey her from the hot-bed of luxury tothe cold, damp vault of St. Giles's melancholy looking church! I stoodat Mrs. L---'s window, which commanded a view of the whole square, towatch the procession pass up Russell-street to the place of interment. The morning was intensely cold, and large snow-flakes fell lazily andheavily to the earth. The poor dingy sparrows, with their feathersruffled up, hopped mournfully along the pavement in search of food;they, "In spite of all their feathers, were a-cold. "

The mutes that attended the long line of mourning coaches stoodmotionless, leaning on their long staffs wreathed with white, like somany figures that the frost-king had stiffened into stone. The hearse, with its snowy plumes, drawn by six milk-white horses, might have servedfor the regal car of his northern majesty, so ghost-like and chillywere its sepulchral trappings. At length the coffin, covered with blackvelvet, and a pall lined with white silk and fringed with silver, wasborne from the house and deposited in the gloomy depths of the statelyhearse. The _hired_ mourners, in their sable dresses and long whitehatbands and scarfs, rode slowly forward mounted on white horses, toattend this bride of death to her last resting place. The first threecarriages that followed contained the family physician and surgeon, aclergyman, and the male servants of the house, in deep sables. Thefamily carriage too was there, but _empty_, and of a procession in which145 private carriages made a conspicuous show, all but those enumeratedabove were _empty_. Strangers drove strange horses to that vast funeral, and _hired servants_ were the only members of the family that conductedthe last scion of that family to the grave. Truly, it was the mostdismal spectacle we ever witnessed, and we turned from it sick at heart, and with eyes moist with tears not shed for the dead, for she hadescaped from this vexatious vanity, but from the heartless mockery ofall this fictitious woe. 

The expense of such a funeral probably involved many hundred pounds, which had been better bestowed on charitable purposes. 

Another evil arising out of this absurd custom, is the high priceattached to black clothing, on account of the necessity that compelspeople to wear it for so long a period after the death of a nearrelation, making it a matter of still greater difficulty for the poorerclass to comply with the usages of society. 

"But who cares about the poor, whether they go into mourning for theirfriends or no? it is a matter of no consequence. "

Ah, there it is. And this is not the least forcible argument we have toadvance against this useless custom. If it becomes a moral duty forthe rich to put on black for the death of a friend, it must be morallynecessary for the poor to do the same. We see no difference in thedegrees of moral feeling; the soul of man is of no rank, but of equalvalue in our eyes, whether belonging to rich or poor. But this usage isso general, and the neglect of it considered such a disgrace, that itleaves a very wide door open for the entrance of false pride. 

Poverty is an evil which most persons, however humble their stations maybe, most carefully endeavour to conceal. To avoid an exposure of theirreal circumstances, they will deprive themselves of the commonnecessaries of life, and incur debts which they have no prospect ofpaying, rather than allow their neighbours to suspect that they cannotafford a _handsome funeral_ and good _mournings_ for anydeceased member of their family. If such persons would but follow thedictates of true wisdom, honesty, and truth, no dread of the opinion ofothers should tempt them to do what they cannot afford. Their grief forthe dead would not be less sincere if they followed the body of thebeloved in their ordinary costume to the grave; nor is the spectacleless imposing divested of all the solemn foppery which attends thefuneral of persons who move in respectable society. 

Some years ago, when it was the fashion in England (and may be itremains the fashion still) to give black silk scarfs and hatbands atfunerals, mean and covetous persons threw themselves in the way ofpicking up these stray loaves and fishes. A lady, who lived in the sametown with me after I was married, boasted to me that her husband (whoalways contrived to be a necessary attendant on such occasions) foundher in all the black silk she required for articles of dress, and thathe had not purchased a pair of gloves for many years. 

About two years before old King George the Third died, a report gotabout that he could not survive many days. There was a general rushamong all ranks to obtain mourning. Up went the price of black goods;Norwich crapes and bombazines rose ten per cent, and those who were ableto secure a black garment at any price, to shew their loyalty, weredeemed very fortunate. And after all this fuss, and hurry, andconfusion, the poor mad old king disappointed the speculators in sables, and lived on in darkness and mental aberration for two whole years. Themourning of some on that occasion was _real_, not imaginary. The sorrowwith them was not for the _kings' death_, but that he had _not died_. On these public occasions of grief, great is the stir and bustle ineconomical families, who wish to show a decent concern for the death ofthe monarch, but who do not exactly like to go to the expense of buyingnew clothes for such a short period as a court mourning. All the oldfamily stores are rummaged carefully over, and every stuff gown, wornribbon, or shabby shawl, that can take a black dye, is handed over tothe vat; and these second-hand black garments have a more _mournfulappearance_ than the glossy suits of the gay and wealthy, for it isactually humiliating to wear such, as they are both unbecoming to theyoung and old. Black, which is the most becoming and convenient colourfor general wear, especially to the old and middle-aged; would no longerbe regarded with religious horror as the type of mortality and decay, but would take its place on the same shelf with the gay tints that formthe motley groups in our handsome stores. Could influential people befound to expose the folly and vanity of this practice, and refuse tocomply with its demands, others would soon be glad to follow theirexample, and, before many years, it would sink into contempt and disuse. 

If the Americans, the most practical people in the world, would but oncetake up the subject and publicly lecture on its absurdity, this dismalshadow of a darker age would no longer obscure our streets and scare ourlittle ones. Men would wear their grief in their hearts and not aroundtheir hats; and widows would be better known by their serious deportmentthan by their weeds. I feel certain that every thinking person, whocalmly investigates the subject, will be tempted to exclaim with me, "Oh, that the good sense of mankind would unite in banishing it for everfrom the earth!"

The Song Of Faith. 

 "House of clay!--frail house of clay! In the dust thou soon must lie; Spirit! spread thy wings--away, Strong in immortality; To worlds more bright Oh wing thy flight, To win the crown and robe of light. 

 "Hopes of dust!--false hopes of dust! Smiling as the morning fair; Why do we confiding trust In trifles light as air? Like flowers that wave Above the grave, Ye cheer, without the power to save. 

 "Joys of earth!--vain joys of earth! Sandy your foundations be; Mortals overrate your worth, Sought through life so eagerly. Too soon we know That tears must flow, -- That bliss is still allied to woe!

 "Human love!--fond human love! We have worshipp'd at thy shrine; Envying not the saints above, While we deem'd thy power divine. But ah, thy light, So wildly bright, Is born of earth to set in night. 

 "Love of heaven!--love of heaven! Let us pray for thine increase; Happiness by thee is given, Hopes and joys that never cease. With thee we'll soar Death's dark tide o'er, Where earth can stain the soul no more. "

CHAPTER IX

Odd Characters

 "Dear merry reader, did you ever hear, Whilst travelling on the world's wide beaten road, The curious reasoning, and opinions queer, Of men, who never in their lives bestow'd One hour on study; whose existence seems A thing of course--a practical delusion-- A day of frowning clouds and sunny gleams-- Of pain and pleasure, mix'd in strange confusion; Who feel they move and breathe, they know not why-- Are born to eat and drink, and sleep and die. " S. M. 

The shores of the Prince Edward District become more bold and beautifulas the steamer pursues her course up the "Long Reach. " Magnificent treesclothe these rugged banks to their very summits, and cast dense shadowsupon the waters that slumber at their feet. The slanting rays of theevening sun stream through their thick foliage, and weave a network ofgold around the corrugated trunks of the huge oak and maple trees thattower far above our heads. The glorious waters are dyed with a thousandchangeful hues of crimson and saffron, and reflect from their unruffledsurface the gorgeous tints of a Canadian sunset. The pines, with theirhearse-like plumes, loom out darkly against the glowing evening sky, andfrown austerely upon us, their gloomy aspect affording a strikingcontrast to the sun-lighted leaves of the feathery birch and the rockelm. It is a lonely hour, and one that nature seems to have set apartfor prayer and praise; a devotional spirit seems to breathe over theearth, the woods, and waters, softening and harmonising the whole intoone blessed picture of love and peace. 

The boat has again crossed the bay, and stops to take in wood at"Roblin's wharf. " We are now beneath the shadow of the "Indian woods, " areserve belonging to the Mohawks in the township of Tyendenaga, abouttwenty-four miles by water from Belleville. A broad belt of forest landforms the background to a cleared slope, rising gradually from the wateruntil it reaches a considerable elevation above the shore. The frontageto the bay is filled up with neat farm houses, and patches of buck-wheatand Indian corn, the only grain that remains unharvested at this seasonof the year. We have a fine view of the stone church built by theIndians, which stands on the top of the hill about a mile from thewater. Queen Anne presented to this tribe three large marble tabletsengraved with the Ten Commandments, which, after following them in alltheir ramblings for a century and a half, now grace the altar of thischurch, and are regarded with great veneration by the Indian settlers, who seem to look upon them with a superstitious awe. The church is builtin the gothic style, and is one of the most picturesque village churchesthat I have seen in Canada. The Indians contributed a great part ofthe funds for erecting this building. I was never within the wallsof the sacred edifice; but I have wandered round the quiet peacefulburial-ground, and admired the lovely prospect it commands of the bayand the opposite shores. 

One side of the churchyard is skirted by a natural grove of foresttrees, which separates it from the parsonage, a neat white building thatfronts the water, and stands back from it at the head of a noble sweepof land covered with velvet turf, and resembling greatly a gentleman'spark at home, by the fine groups of stately forest trees scattered overit, and a semicircular belt of the original forest, that, sloping fromthe house on either side, extends its wings until it meets the bluewaters of the bay, leaving between its green arms a broad space ofcleared land. 

The first time my eyes ever rested on this beautiful spot it appeared tome a perfect paradise. It was a warm, balmy, moonlight evening in June. The rich resinous odour of the woods filled the air with deliciousperfume; fire-flies were glancing like shooting stars among the darkfoliage that hung over the water, and the spirit of love and peace satbrooding over the luxurious solitude, whose very silence was eloquentwith praise of the great Maker. How I envied the residents of theparsonage their lovely home! How disappointed I felt, when Mrs. G---told me that she felt it dull and lonely, that she was out of society, and that the Indians were very troublesome neighbours! Now, I have nodoubt that this was all very true, and that I should have felt the samewant that she did, after the bewitching novelty of the scene had becomefamiliar; but it sadly destroyed the romance and poetry of it to me atthe time. 

This part of the township of Tyendenaga belongs almost exclusively tothe Mohawk Indians, who have made a large settlement here, while thegovernment has given them a good school for instructing their childrenin the Indian and English languages; and they have a resident clergymanof the Establishment always at hand, to minister to them the spiritualconsolations of religion, and impart to them the blessed truths of thegospel. The Rev. S. G--- was for some years the occupant of the prettyparsonage-house, and was greatly beloved by his Indian congregation. 

The native residents of these woods clear farms, and build and plantlike their white neighbours. They rear horses, cattle, and sheep, andsow a sufficient quantity of grain to secure them from want. But thereis a great lack of order and regularity in all their agriculturalproceedings. They do not make half as much out of their lands--whichthey suffer to be overgrown with thorns and thistles--as their whiteneighbours; and their domestic arrangements within doors are nevermarked by that appearance of comfort and cleanliness, which is to beseen in the dwellings of the native Canadians and emigrants from Europe. 

The red man is out of his element when he settles quietly down to afarm, and you perceive it at a glance. He never appears to advantageas a resident among civilized men; and he seems painfully conscious ofhis inferiority, and ignorance of the arts of life. He has lost hisidentity, as it were, and when he attempts to imitate ihe customs andmanners of the whites, he is too apt to adopt their vices withoutacquiring their industry and perseverance, and sinks into a sottish, degraded savage. The proud independence we admired so much in the man ofthe woods, has disappeared with his truthfulness, honesty, and simplemanners. His pure blood is tainted with the dregs of a lower humanity, degenerated by the want and misery of over-populous European cities. Hislight eyes, crisp hair, and whitey-brown complexion, too surely betrayhis mixed origin; and we turn from the half educated, half-caste Indian, with feelings of aversion and mistrust. 

There is a Mohawk family who reside in this township of the name ofLoft, who have gained some celebrity in the colony by their cleverrepresentations of the manners and customs of their tribe. They singIndian songs, dance the war-dance, hold councils, and make gravespeeches, in the characters of Indian chiefs and hunters, in an artisticmanner that would gain the applause of a more fastidious audience. 

The two young squaws, who were the principal performers in thistravelling Indian opera, were the most beautiful Indian women I everbeheld. There was no base alloy in their pure native blood. They had thelarge, dark, humid eyes, the ebon locks tinged with purple, so peculiarto their race, and which gives such a rich tint to the clear olive skinand brilliant white teeth of the denizens of the Canadian wilderness. 

Susannah Loft and her sister were the _beau ideal_ of Indian women; andtheir graceful and symmetrical figures were set off to great advantageby their picturesque and becoming costume, which in their case wascomposed of the richest materials. Their acting and carriage weredignified and queen-like, and their appearance singularly pleasing andinteresting. 

Susannah, the eldest and certainly the most graceful of these trulyfascinating girls, was unfortunately killed last summer by the collisionof two steam-carriages, while travelling professionally with her sisterthrough the States. Those who had listened with charmed ears to hersweet voice, and gazed with admiring eyes upon her personal charms, weregreatly shocked at her untimely death. 

A little boy and girl belonging to the same talented family have beenbrought before the public, in order to supply her place, but they havenot been able to fill up the blank occasioned by her loss. 

The steamboat again leaves the north shore, and stands across from thestone mills, which are in the Prince Edward district, and form one ofthe features of the remarkable scenery of what is called the "highshore. " This mountainous ridge, which descends perpendicularly to thewater's edge, is still in forest; and, without doubt, this is the mostromantic portion of the bay, whose waters are suddenly contracted tohalf their former dimensions, and glide on darkly and silently betweenthese steep wood-crowned heights. 

There is a small lake upon the highest portion of this table-land, whosewaters are led down the steep bank, and made to work a saw-mill, whichis certainly giving a very unromantic turn to them. But here, as in theStates, the beautiful and the ideal are instantly converted into thereal and the practical. 

This "lake of the mountains" is a favourite place for picnics andpleasure trips from Northport and Belleville. Here the Sabbath-schoolchildren come, once during the summer, to enjoy a ramble in the woods, and spread their feast beneath the lordly oaks and maples that crownthese heights. And the teetotallers marshall their bands of converts, and hold their cold water festival, beside the blue deep waters of thismysterious mountain-lake. 

Strange stories are told of its unfathomable depth; of the quicksandsthat are found near it, and of its being supplied from the far-offinland ocean of Lake Huron. But like the cove in Tyendenaga, of whicheverybody in the neighbourhood has heard something, but which nobody hasseen, these accounts of the lake of the mountain rest only upon hearsay. 

The last rays of the sun still lingered on wood and stream when wearrived at Picton, which stands at the head of the "long reach. " The bayhere is not wider than a broad river. The banks are very lofty, andenclose the water in an oblong form, round which that part of the townwhich is near the shore is built. 

Picton is a very beautiful place viewed from the deck of the steamer. Its situation is novel and imposing, and the number of pretty cottagesthat crown the steep ridge that rises almost perpendicularly from thewater, peeping out from among fine orchards in full bearing, and trimgardens, give it quite a rural appearance. The steamboat enters thisfairy bay by a very narrow passage; and, after delivering freight andpassengers at the wharf, backs out by the way she came in. There is noturning a large vessel round this long half-circle of deep blue water. Few spots in Canada would afford a finer subject for the artist's pencilthan this small inland town, which is so seldom visited by strangers andtourists. 

The progress to wealth and importance made by this place is strikinglybehind that of Belleville, which far exceeds it in size and population. Three years ago a very destructive fire consumed some of the principalbuildings in the town, which has not yet recovered from its effects. Trade is not so brisk here as in Belleville, and the streets are dulland monotonous, when compared with the stir and bustle of the latter, which, during the winter season, is crowded with sleighs from thecountry. The Bay of Quinte during the winter forms an excellent road toall the villages and towns on its shores. The people from the oppositeside trade more with the Belleville merchants than with those in theirown district; and during the winter season, when the bay is completelyfrozen from the mouth of the Trent to Kingston, loaded teams are passingto and fro continually. It is the favourite afternoon drive of young andold, and when the wind, sweeping over such a broad surface of ice, isnot _too cold_, and you are well wrapped up in furs and buffalo robes, asleigh ride on the ice is very delightful. Not that I can ever whollydivest myself of a vague, indistinct sense of danger, whilst rapidlygliding over this frozen mirror. I would rather be out on the bay, ina gale of wind in a small boat, than overtaken by a snow storm on itsfrozen highways. Still it is a pleasant sight of a bright, glowing, winter day, when the landscape glitters like a world composed ofcrystals, to watch the handsome sleighs, filled with well-dressed menand women, and drawn by spirited horses, dashing in all directions overthis brilliant field of dazzling white. 

Night has fallen rapidly upon us since we left Picton in the distance. A darker shade is upon the woods, the hills, the waters, and by the timewe approach Fredericksburg it will be dark. This too is a very prettyplace on the north side of the bay; beautiful orchards and meadows skirtthe water, and fine bass-wood and willow-trees grow beside, or bendover the waves. The green smooth meadows, out of which the black stumpsrotted long ago, show noble groups of hiccory and butter-nut, and sleekfat cows are reposing beneath them, or standing mid-leg in the smallcreek that wanders through them to pour its fairy tribute into the broadbay. 

We must leave the deck and retreat into the ladies' cabin, for the airfrom the water grows chilly, and the sense of seeing can no longer begratified by remaining where we are. But if you open your eyes to see, and your ears to hear, all the strange sayings and doings of the oddpeople you meet in a steamboat, you will never lack amusement. 

The last time I went down to Kingston, there was a little girl in thecabin who rejoiced in the possession of a very large American doll, made so nearly to resemble an infant, that at a distance it was easy tomistake it for one. To render the deception more striking, you couldmake it cry like a child by pressing your hand upon its body. A thin, long-laced farmer's wife came on board, at the wharf we have justquitted, and it was amusing to watch her alternately gazing at thelittle girl and her doll. 

"Is that your baby, Cissy?"

"No; it's my doll. "

"Mi! what a strange doll! Isn't that something _oncommon?_ I tookit for a real child. Look at its bare feet and hands, and bald head. Well, I don't think it's 'zactly right to make a piece of wood look solike a human critter. "

The child good-naturedly put the doll into the woman's hands, who, happening to take it rather roughly, the wooden baby gave a loud squall;the woman's face expressed the utmost horror, and she dropped it on thefloor as if it had been a hot coal. 

"Gracious, goodness me, the thing's alive!"

The little girl laughed heartily, and, taking up the discarded doll, explained to the woman the simple method employed to produce the sound. 

"Well, it do sound quite _nataral_, " said her astonished companion. "Whatwill they find out next? It beats the railroad and the telegraphholler. "

"Ah, but I saw a big doll that could speak when I was with mamma in NewYork, " said the child, with glistening eyes. 

"A doll that could speak? You don't say. Oh, do tell!"

While the young lady described the automaton doll, it was amusing towatch the expressions of surprise, wonder, and curiosity, that flittedover the woman's brig cadaverous face. She would have made a good studyfor a painter. 

A young relative of mine went down in the steamboat, to be present atthe Provincial Agricultural Show that was held that year in the town ofBuckville, on the St. Lawrence. It was the latter end of September; theweather was wet and stormy, and the boat loaded to the water's edge withcattle and passengers. The promenade decks were filled up with pigs, sheep and oxen. Cows were looking sleepily in at the open doors of theladies' cabin, and bulls were fastened on the upper deck. Such a motleygroup of bipeds and quadrupeds were never before huddled into such anarrow space; and, amidst all this din and confusion, a Scotch piper wasplaying lustily on the bagpipes, greatly to the edification, I've nodoubt, of himself and the crowd of animal life around him. 

The night came on very dark and stormy, and many of the women sufferedas much from the pitching of the boat as if they had been at sea. Theladies' cabin was crowded to overflowing; every sofa, bed, and chair wasoccupied; and my young friend, who did not feel any inconvenience fromthe storm, was greatly entertained by the dialogues carried on acrossthe cabin by the women, who were reposing in their berths, and lamentingover the rough weather and their own sufferings in consequence. Theywere mostly the wives of farmers and respectable mechanics, and thelanguage they used was neither very choice nor grammatical. 

"I say, Mrs. C---, how be you?"

"I feel bad, any how, " with a smothered groan. 

"Have you been sick?"

"Not yet; but feel as if I was going to. "

"How's your head coming on, Mrs. N---?"

"It's just splitting, I thank you. "

"Oh, how awful the boat do pitch!" cries a third. 

"If she should sink, I'm afeard we shall all go to the bottom. "

"And think of all the poor sheep and cattle!"

"Well, of course, they'd have to go too. "

"Oh, mi! I'll get up, and be ready for a start, in case of the worst, "cried a young girl. 

"Mrs. C---, do give me something good out of your basket, to keep up myspirits. "

"Well, I will. Come over here, and you and I will have some talk. Mybasket's at the foot of my berth. You'll find in it a small bottle ofbrandy and some crulls. "

So up got several of the sick ladies, and kept up their spirits byeating cakes, chewing gum, and drinking cold brandy punch. 

"Did Mrs. H--- lose much in the fire last night?" said one. 

"Oh, dear, yes; she lost all her clothes, and three large jars ofpreserves she made about a week ago, and _sarce in accordance!_"[A common Yankee phrase, often used instead of the word proportion. ]

There was an honest Yorkshire farmer and his wife on board, and when themorning at length broke through pouring rain and driving mist, and theport to which they were bound loomed through the haze, the women werevery anxious to know if their husbands, who slept in the gentlemen'scabin, were awake. "

"They arn't stirring yet, " said Mrs. G---, "for I hear Isaac (meaningher husband) _breezing_ below"--a most expressive term for very hardsnoring. 

The same Isaac, when he came up to the ladies' cabin to take his wife onshore, complained, in his broad Yorkshire dialect, that he had been keptawake all night by a jovial gentleman who had been his fellow-travellerin the cabin. 

"We had terrible noisy chap in t'cabin. They called him Mr. D---, andsaid he 'twas t'mayor of Belleville; but I thought they were a-fooning. He wouldn't sleep himself, nor let t'others sleep. He gat piper, an' puthim top o' table, and kept him playing all t'night. "

One would think that friend Isaac had been haunted by the vision of thepiper in his dreams; for, certes, the jovial buzzing of the pipes hadnot been able to drown the deep drone of his own nasal organ. 

A gentleman who was travelling in company with Sir A--- told me ananecdote of him, and how he treated an impertinent fellow on board oneof the lake boats, that greatly amused me. 

The state cabins in these large steamers open into the great saloon; andas they are often occupied by married people, each berth contains twobeds, one placed above the other. Now it often happens, when the boatis greatly crowded, that two passengers of the same sex are forced tooccupy the same sleeping room. This was Sir A---'s case, and he wasobliged, though very reluctantly, to share his sleeping apartment witha well-dressed American, but evidently a man of low standing, from thefamiliarity of his manners and the bad grammar he used. 

In the morning, it was necessary for one gentleman to rise before theother, as the space in front of their berths was too narrow to allow ofmore than one performing his ablutions at a time. 

Our Yankee made a fair start, and had nearly completed his toilet, whenhe suddenly spied a tooth-brush and a box of tooth-powder in thedressing-case his companion had left open on the washstand. Upon these hepounced, and having made a liberal use of them, flung them back into thecase, and sat down upon the only chair the room contained, in order togratify his curiosity by watching how his sleeping partner went throughthe same process. 

Sir A---, greatly annoyed by the fellow's assurance, got out of bed; andplacing the washhand basin on the floor, put his feet into the water, and commenced scrubbing his toe-nails with the desecrated tooth-brush. Jonathan watched his movements for a few seconds in silent horror; atlength, unable to contain himself, he exclaimed. 

"Well, stranger! that's the dirtiest use I ever see a toothbrush put to, any how. "

"I saw it put to a dirtier, just now, " said Sir A--- very coolly. "I always use that brush for cleaning my toes. "

The Yankee turned very green, and fled to the deck, but his nausea wasnot sea-sickness. 

The village of Nappanee, on the north side of the Bay, is situated on avery pretty river that bears the same name, --Nappanee, in the Mohawklanguage, signifying flour. The village is a mile back from the bay, andis not much seen from the water. There are a great many mills here, bothgrist and saw mills, from which circumstance it most likely derives itsname. 

Amherst Island, which is some miles in extent, stands between Ontarioand the Bay of Quinte, its upper and lower extremity forming the twostraits that are called the Upper and Lower Gap, and the least breeze, which is not perceptible in the other portions of the bay, is felt here. Passing through these gaps on a stormy day creates as great a nausea asa short chopping sea on the Atlantic, and I have seen both men and womenretreat to their berths to avoid disagreeable consequences. AmherstIsland is several miles in extent, and there are many good farms inhigh cultivation upon it, while its proximity on all sides to the wateraffords excellent sport to the angler and gunner, as wild ducks aboundin this vicinity. 

Just after you pass the island and enter the lower gap, there are threevery small islands in a direct line with each other, that are known asthe three brothers. A hermit has taken up his abode on the centre one, and built a very Robinson Crusoe looking hut near the water, composedof round logs and large stones cemented together with clay. He gets hisliving by fishing and fowling, and you see his well-worn, weather-beatenboat, drawn up in a little cove near his odd dwelling. I was verycurious to obtain some particulars of the private history of thiseccentric individual, but beyond what I have just related, my informantscould tell me nothing, or why he had chosen this solitary abode in suchan exposed situation, and so far apart from all the comforts of sociallife. 

The town of Bath is the last place of any note on this portion of theBay, until you arrive at Kingston. 

A Morning Song. 

 "The young wheat is springing All tender and green, And the blackbird is singing The branches between; The leaves of the hawthorn Have burst from their prison, And the bright eyes of morn On the earth have arisen. 

 "While sluggards are sleeping, Oh hasten with me; While the night mists are weeping Soft showers on each tree, And nature is glowing Beneath the warm beam, The young day is throwing O'er mountain and stream. 

 "And the shy colt is bounding Across the wide mead, And his wild hoofs resounding, Increases his speed; Now starting and crossing At each shadow he sees, Now wantonly tossing His mane in the breeze. 

 "The sky-lark is shaking The dew from her wing, And the clover forsaking, Soars upwards to sing, In rapture outpouring Her anthem of love, Where angels adoring Waft praises above. 

 "Shake dull sleep from your pillow, Young dreamer arise, On the leaves of the willow The dew-drop still lies, And the mavis is trilling His song from the brake, And with melody filling The wild woods--awake!"

CHAPTER X

Grace Marks

 "I dare not think--I cannot pray; To name the name of God were sin: No grief of mine can wash away The consciousness of guilt within. The stain of blood is on my hand, The curse of Cain is on my brow;-- I see that ghastly phantom stand Between me and the sunshine now! That mocking face still haunts my dreams, That blood-shot eye that never sleeps, In night and darkness--oh, it gleams, Like red-hot steel--but never weeps! And still it bends its burning gaze On mine, till drops of terror start From my hot brow, and hell's fierce blaze Is kindled in my brain and heart. I long for death, yet dare not die, Though life is now a weary curse; But oh, that dread eternity May bring a punishment far worse!"

So much has been written about the city of Kingston, so lately the seatof government, and so remarkable for its fortifications, and theimportance it ever must be to the colony as a military depot andplace of defence, that it is not my intention to enter into a minutedescription of it here. I was greatly pleased, as I think every strangermust be, with its general aspect, particularly as seen from the water, in which respect it has a great advantage over Toronto. The number ofvessels lying at the different wharfs, and the constant arrival of noblesteamers both from the United States and the Upper and Lower Province, give it a very business-like appearance. Yet, upon landing, you arestruck with the want of stir and bustle in the principal thoroughfares, when contrasted with the size and magnitude of the streets. 

The removal of the seat of government has checked the growth of Kingstonfor a while; but you feel, while examining its commanding position, thatit must always be the key of the Upper Province, the great rallyingpoint in case of war or danger. The market house is a very finebuilding, and the wants of the city could be supplied within its area, were it three times the size that it is at present. The market isdecidedly one of the chief attractions of the place. 

The streets are wide and well paved, and there are a great many finetrees in and about Kingston, which give to it the appearance of aEuropean town. The houses are chiefly of brick and stone along thepublic thoroughfares, and there are many neat private dwellingsinclosed in trim well-kept gardens. The road leading to the ProvincialPenitentiary runs parallel with the water, and forms a delightful drive. 

It is about three years ago that I paid a visit with my husband to thePenitentiary, and went over every part of it. I must own that I felt agreater curiosity to see the convicts than the prison which containedthem, and my wishes were completely gratified, as my husband wasdetained for several hours on business, and I had a long interval ofleisure to examine the workshops, where the convicts were employed attheir different trades, their sleeping cells, chapel, and places ofpunishment. The silence system is maintained here, no conversationbeing allowed between the prisoners. I was surprised at the neatness, cleanliness, order, and regularity of all the arrangements in the vastbuilding, and still more astonished that forty or fifty strong activelooking men, unfettered, with the free use of their limbs, could becontrolled by one person, who sat on a tall chair as overseer of eachward. In several instances, particularly in the tailoring and shoemakingdepartment, the overseers were small delicate-looking men; but suchis the force of habit, and the want of moral courage which generallyaccompanies guilt, that a word or a look from these men was sufficientto keep them at work. 

The dress of the male convicts was warm and comfortable, thoughcertainly not very elegant, consisting (for it was late in the fall) ofa thick woollen jacket, one side of it being brown, the other yellow, with trowsers to correspond, a shirt of coarse factory cotton, but veryclean, and good stout shoes, and warm knitted woollen socks. The lettersP. P. For "Provincial Penitentiary, " are sewed in coloured cloth upon thedark side of the jacket. Their hair is cut very short to the head, andthey wear a cloth cap of the same colours that compose their dress. 

The cells are narrow, just wide enough to contain a small bed, a stool, and a wash-bowl, and the prisoners are divided from each other by thickstone walls. They are locked in every night at six o'clock, and theircell is so constructed, that one of the keepers can always look in uponthe convict without his being aware of the scrutiny. The bedding wasscrupulously clean, and I saw a plain Bible in each cell. 

There is a sort of machine resembling a stone coffin, in which mutinousconvicts are confined for a given time. They stand in an uprightposition; and as there are air holes for breathing, the look and name ofthe thing is more dreadful than the punishment, which cannot be theleast painful. I asked the gentleman who showed us over the building, what country sent the most prisoners to the Penitentiary? He smiled, and told me "guess. " I did so, but was wrong. 

"No, " said he; "we have more French Canadians and men of colour. ThenIrish, English, and run-a-way loafers from the States. Of the Scotch wehave very few; but they are very bad--the most ungovernable, sullen, anddisobedient. When a Scotchman is bad enough to be brought here, he islike Jeremiah's bad figs--only fit for the gallows. "

Mr. Moodie's bailiffs had taken down a young fellow, about twenty yearsof age, who had been convicted at the assizes for stealing curious coinsfrom a person who had brought them out to this country as old familyrelics. The evidence was more circumstantial than positive, and manypersons believed the lad innocent. 

He had kept up his spirits bravely on the voyage, and was treated withgreat kindness by the men who had him in custody; but when once withinthe massy walls of the huge building, his courage seemed to forsake himall at once. We passed him as he sat on the bench, while the barber wascutting his hair and shaving off his whiskers. His handsome suit hadbeen removed--he was in the party-coloured dress before described. Therewas in his face an expression of great anguish, and tears were rollingin quick succession down his cheeks. Poor fellow! I should hardly haveknown him again, so completely was he humbled by his present position. 

Mr. M---y told me that they had some men in the Penitentiary who hadreturned three different times to it, and had grown so attached to theirprison that they preferred being there, well clothed and well fed, togaining a precarious living elsewhere. 

Executions in Canada are so rare, even for murder, that many atrociouscriminals are found within these walls--men and women--who could notpossibly have escaped the gallows in England. 

At twelve o'clock I followed Mr. M--- to the great hall, to see theprisoners dine. The meal consisted of excellent soups, with a portionof the meat which had been boiled in it, potatoes, and brown bread, allvery clean and good of their kind. I took a plate of the soup and apiece of the bread, and enjoyed both greatly. 

I could not help thinking, while watching these men in their comfortabledresses, taking their wholesome, well-cooked meal, how much better theywere fed and lodged than thousands of honest industrious men, who hadto maintain large families upon a crust of bread, in the greatmanufacturing cities at home. 

Most of these men had very bad countenances, and I never felt so muchconvinced of the truth of phrenology as while looking at their heads. The extraordinary formation, or rather mal-formation, of some of them, led me to think that their possessors were hardly accountable for theiractions. One man in particular, who had committed a very atrociousmurder, and was confined for life, had a most singular head, such asone, indeed, as I never before saw on a human body. It was immenselylarge at the base, and appeared perfectly round, while at the crownit rose to a point like a sugar-loaf. He was of a dull, drab-colouredcomplexion, with large prominent eyes of a pale green colour;his expression, the most repulsively cruel and sinister. The eyeinvoluntarily singled him out among all his comrades, as something tooterrible to escape observation. 

Among such a number of men, 448, who were there present, I was surprisedat seeing so few with red or fair hair. I noticed this to my companion. He had never observed it before, but said it was strange. The convictswere mostly of a dull grey complexion, large eyed, stolid looking men, or with very black hair, and heavy black brows. 

I could only account for this circumstance from the fact, that thoughfair-haired people are often violently passionate and easily excited, their anger is sudden and quick, never premeditated, but generally thework of the moment. Like straw on a fire, it kindles into a fierceblaze, but it is over in an instant. They seldom retain it, or bearmalice. Not so the dull, putty-coloured, sluggish man. He is slow toact, but he broods over a supposed affront or injury, and never forgetsit. He plans the moment of retaliation, and stabs his enemy when leastprepared. There were many stolid, heavy-looking men in that prison--manywith black, jealous, fiery-looking eyes, in whose gloomy depthssuspicion and revenge seemed to lurk. Even to look at these men as theypassed on, seemed to arouse their vindictive feelings, and they scowleddisdainfully upon us as they walked on to their respective places. 

There was one man among these dark, fierce-looking criminals, who, fromhis proud carriage and bearing, particularly arrested my attention. Ipointed him out to Mr. ---. "That man has the appearance of an educatedperson. He looks as if he had been a gentleman. "

"You are right, " was his reply. "He was a gentleman, the son of adistrict judge, and brought up to the law. A clever man too; but thesewalls do not contain a worse in every respect. He was put in here forarson, and an attempt to murder. Many a poor man has been hung with halfhis guilt. "

"There are two men near him, " I said, "who have not the appearance ofcriminals at all. What have they done?"

"They are not felons, but two soldiers put in here for a week fordisorderly conduct. "

"What a shame, " I cried, "to degrade them in this manner! What good canit do?"

"Oh, " said he, laughing; "it will make them desert to the States themoment they get out. "

"And those two little boys; what are they here for?"

"For murder!" whispered he. 

I almost sprang from my seat; it appeared too dreadful to be true. 

"Yes, " he continued. "That child to the right is in for shooting hissister. The other, to the left, for killing a boy of his own age witha hoe, and burying him under the roots of a fallen tree. Both of theseboys come from the neighbourhood of Peterboro'. Your district, by thebye, sends fewer convicts to the Penitentiary than any part of theUpper Province. "

It was with great pleasure I heard him say this. During a residence ofthirteen years at Belleville, there has not been one execution. Thecounty of Hastings is still unstained with the blood of a criminal. There is so little robbery committed in this part of the country, thatthe thought of thieves or housebreakers never for a moment disturbs ourrest. This is not the case in Hamilton and Toronto, where daring acts ofhousebreaking are of frequent occurrence. 

The constant influx of runaway slaves from the States has added greatlyto the criminal lists on the frontier. The addition of these people toour population is not much to be coveted. The slave, from his previoushabits and education, does not always make a good citizen. During thelast assizes at Cobourg, a black man and his wife were condemned to behung for a most horrible murder, and their son, a young man of twentyyears of age, offered the sheriff to hang his own father and mother fora new suit of clothes. Those who laud the black man, and place him abovethe white, let them produce in the whole annals of human crime a moreatrocious one than this! Yet _it was not a hanging matter_. 

I heard a gentleman exclaim with honest indignation, when this anecdotewas told in his hearing--"If a man were wanting to hang that monster, Iwould do it myself. "

But leaving the male convicts, I must now introduce my reader to thefemale inmates of this house of woe and crime. At the time of my visit, there were only forty women in the Penitentiary. This speaks much forthe superior moral training of the feebler sex. My chief object invisiting their department was to look at the celebrated murderess, Grace Marks, of whom I had heard a great deal, not only from the publicpapers, but from the gentleman who defended her upon her trial, andwhose able pleading saved her from the gallows, on which her wretchedaccomplice closed his guilty career. 

As many of my English readers may never have heard even the name of thisremarkable criminal, it may not be uninteresting to them to give a briefsketch of the events which placed her here. 

About eight or nine years ago--I write from memory, and am not verycertain as to dates--a young Irish emigrant girl was hired into theservice of Captain Kinnaird, an officer on half-pay, who had purchaseda farm about thirty miles in the rear of Toronto; but the name of thetownship, and the county in which it was situated, I have forgotten; butthis is of little consequence to my narrative. Both circumstances couldbe easily ascertained by the curious. The captain had been living forsome time on very intimate terms with his housekeeper, a handsome youngwoman of the name of Hannah Montgomery, who had been his servant of allwork. Her familiarity with her master, who, it appears, was a very finelooking, gentlemanly person, had rendered her very impatient of herformer menial employments, and she soon became virtually the mistress ofthe house. Grace Marks was hired to wait upon her, and perform all thecoarse drudgery that Hannah considered herself too fine a lady to do. 

While Hannah occupied the parlour with her master, and sat at his table, her insolent airs of superiority aroused the jealousy and envy of GraceMarks, and the man-servant, MacDermot; who considered themselves quitesuperior to their self-elected mistress. MacDermot was the son ofrespectable parents; but from being a wild, ungovernable boy, he becamea bad, vicious man, and early abandoned the parental roof to enlist fora soldier. He was soon tired of his new profession, and, deserting fromhis regiment, escaped detection, and emigrated to Canada. Having nomeans of his own, he was glad to engage with Captain Kinnaird as hisservant, to whom his character and previous habits were unknown. 

These circumstances, together with what follows, were drawn from hisconfession, made to Mr. Mac--ie, who had conducted his defence, thenight previous to his execution. Perhaps it will be better to make himthe narrator of his own story. 

"Grace Marks was hired by Captain Kinnaird to wait upon his housekeeper, a few days after I entered his service. She was a pretty girl, andvery smart about her work, but of a silent, sullen temper. It was verydifficult to know when she was pleased. Her age did not exceed seventeenyears. After the work of the day was over, she and I generally were leftto ourselves in the kitchen, Hannah being entirely taken up with hermaster. Grace was very jealous of the difference made between herand the house-keeper, whom she hated, and to whom she was often veryinsolent and saucy. Her whole conversation to me was on this subject. 'What is she better than us?' she would say, 'that she is to be treatedlike a lady, and eat and drink of the best. She is not better born thanwe are, or better educated. I will not stay here to be domineered overby her. Either she or I must soon leave this. ' Every little complaintHannah made of me, was repeated to me with cruel exaggerations, till mydander was up, and I began to regard the unfortunate woman as our commonenemy. The good looks of Grace had interested me in her cause; andthough there was something about the girl that I could not exactly like, I had been a very lawless, dissipated fellow, and if a woman was youngand pretty, I cared very little about her character. Grace was sullenand proud, and not very easily won over to my purpose; but in order towin her liking, if possible, I gave a ready ear to all her discontentedrepinings. 

"One day Captain Kinnaird went to Toronto, to draw his half-year's pay, and left word with Hannah that he would be back by noon the next day. She had made some complaint against us to him, and he had promised topay us off on his return. This had come to the ears of Grace, and herhatred to the housekeeper was increased to a tenfold degree. I takeheaven to witness, that I had no designs against the life of theunfortunate woman when my master left the house. 

"Hannah went out in the afternoon, to visit some friends she had inthe neighbourhood, and left Grace and I alone together. This was anopportunity too good to be lost, and, instead of minding our work, wegot recapitulating our fancied wrongs over some of the captain's whisky. I urged my suit to Grace; but she would not think of anything, or listento anything, but the insults and injuries she had received from Hannah, and her burning thirst for revenge. 'Dear me, ' said I, half in jest, 'ifyou hate her so much as all that, say but the word, and I will soon ridyou of her for ever. '

"I had not the least idea that she would take me at my word. Her eyesflashed with a horrible light. 'You dare not do it!' she replied, with ascornful toss of her head. 

"'Dare not do what?'

"'Kill that woman for me!' she whispered. 

"'You don't know what I dare, or what I dar'n't do!' said I, drawinga little back from her. 'If you will promise to run off with meafterwards, I will see what I can do with her. '

"'I'll do anything you like; but you must first kill her. '

"'You are not in earnest, Grace?'

"'I mean what I say!'

"'How shall we be able to accomplish it? She is away now, and she maynot return before her master comes back. '

"'Never doubt her. She will be back to see after the house, and that weare in no mischief. '

"'She sleeps with you?'

"'Not always. She will to-night. '

"'I will wait till you are asleep, and then I will kill her with a blowof the axe on the head. It will be over in a minute. Which side of thebed does she lie on?'

"'She always sleeps on the side nearest the wall and she bolts the doorthe last thing before she puts out the light. But I will manage boththese difficulties for you. I will pretend to have the toothache verybad, and will ask to sleep next the wall to-night. She is kind to thesick, and will not refuse me; and after she is asleep, I will steal outat the foot of the bed, and unbolt the door. If you are true to yourpromise, you need not fear that I shall neglect mine. '

"I looked at her with astonishment. 'Good God!' thought I, 'can this bea woman? A pretty, soft-looking woman too--and a mere girl! What a heartshe must have!' I felt equally tempted to tell her she was a devil, andthat I would have nothing to do with such a horrible piece of business;but she looked so handsome, that somehow or another I yielded to thetemptation, though it was not without a struggle; for conscience loudlywarned me not to injure one who had never injured me. 

"Hannah came home to supper, and she was unusually agreeable, and tookher tea with us in the kitchen, and laughed and chatted as merrily aspossible. And Grace, in order to hide the wicked thoughts working in hermind, was very pleasant too, and they went laughing to bed, as if theywere the best friends in the world. 

"I sat by the kitchen fire after they were gone, with the axe between myknees, trying to harden my heart to commit the murder; but for a longtime I could not bring myself to do it. I thought over all my pastlife. I had been a bad, disobedient son--a dishonest, wicked man; butI had never shed blood. I had often felt sorry for the error of myways, and had even vowed amendment, and prayed God to forgive me, andmake a better man of me for the time to come. And now, here I was, at the instigation of a young girl, contemplating the death of afellow-creature, with whom I had been laughing and talking on apparentlyfriendly terms a few minutes ago. Oh, it was dreadful, too dreadful tobe true! and then I prayed God to remove the temptation from me, and toconvince me of my sin. 'Ah, but, ' whispered the devil, 'Grace Marks willlaugh at you. She will twit you with your want of resolution, and saythat she is the better man of the two. '

"I sprang up, and hastened at their door, which opened into the kitchen. All was still. I tried the door;--for the damnation of my soul, it wasopen. I had no need of a candle, the moon was at full; there was nocurtain to their window, and it shone directly upon the bed, and I couldsee their features as plainly as by the light of day. Grace was eithersleeping, or pretending to sleep--I think the latter, for there was asort of fiendish smile upon her lips. The housekeeper had yielded to herrequest, and was lying with her head out over the bed-clothes, in thebest possible manner for receiving a death-blow upon her temples. Shehad a sad, troubled look upon her handsome face; and once she moved herhand, and said 'Oh dear!' I wondered whether she was dreaming of anydanger to herself and the man she loved. I raised the axe to give thedeath-blow, but my arm seemed held back by an invisible hand. It was thehand of God. I turned away from the bed, and left the room; I could notdo it. I sat down by the embers of the fire, and cursed my own folly. I made a second attempt--a third--and fourth; yes, even to a ninth--andmy purpose was each time defeated. God seemed to fight for the poorcreature; and the last time I left the room I swore, with a great oath, that if she did not die till I killed her, she might live on till theday of judgment. I threw the axe on to the wood heap in the shed, andwent to bed, and soon fell fast asleep. 

"In the morning, I was coming into the kitchen to light the fire, andmet Grace Marks with the pails in her hand, going out to milk the cows. As she passed me, she gave me a poke with the pail in the ribs, andwhispered with a sneer, 'Arn't you a coward!'

"As she uttered those words, the devil, against whom I had fought allnight, entered into my heart, and transformed me into a demon. Allfeelings of remorse and mercy forsook me from that instant, and darkerand deeper plans of murder and theft flashed through my brain. 'Go andmilk the cows, ' said I with a bitter laugh, 'and you shall soon seewhether I am the coward you take me for. ' She went out to milk, and Iwent in to murder the unsuspicious housekeeper. 

"I found her at the sink in the kitchen, washing her face in a tinbasin. I had the fatal axe in my hand, and without pausing for aninstant to change my mind--for had I stopped to think, she would havebeen living to this day I struck her a heavy blow on the back of thehead with my axe. She fell to the ground at my feet without uttering aword; and, opening the trap-door that led from the kitchen into a cellarwhere we kept potatoes and other stores, I hurled her down, closed thedoor, and wiped away the perspiration that was streaming down my face. I then looked at the axe and laughed. 'Yes; I have tasted blood now, and this murder will not be the last. Grace Marks, you have raised thedevil--take care of yourself now!'

"She came in with her pails, looking as innocent and demure as the milkthey contained. She turned pale when her eye met mine. I have no doubtbut that I Iooked the fiend her taunt had made me. 

"'Where's Hannah?' she asked, in a faint voice. 

"'Dead, ' said I. 'What! are you turned coward now?'

"'Macdermot, you look dreadful. I am afraid of you, not of her. '

"'Aha, my girl! you should have thought of that before. The hound thatlaps blood once will lap again. You have taught me how to kill, and Idon't care who, or how many I kill now. When Kinnaird comes home I willput a ball through his brain, and send him to keep company below withthe housekeeper. '

"She put down the pails, --she sprang towards me, and, clinging to myarm, exclaimed in frantic tones--

"'You won't kill him?'

"'By ---, I will! why should he escape more than Hannah? And hark you, girl, if you dare to breathe a word to any one of my intention, or tellto any one, by word or sign, what I have done, I'll kill you!'

"She trembled like a leaf. Yes, that young demon trembled. 'Don't killme, ' she whined, 'don't kill me, Macdermot! I swear that I will notbetray you; and oh, don't kill him!'

"'And why the devil do you want me to spare him?'

"'He is so handsome!'

"'Pshaw!'

"'So good-natured!'

"'Especially to you. Come, Grace; no nonsense. If I had thought that youwere jealous of your master and Hannah, I would have been the last manon earth to have killed her. You belong to me now; and though I believethat the devil has given me a bad bargain in you, yet, such as you are, I will stand by you. And now, strike a light and follow me into thecellar. You must help me to put Hannah out of sight. '

"She never shed a tear, but she looked dogged and sullen, and did as Ibid her. 

"That cellar presented a dreadful spectacle. I can hardly bear to recallit now; but then, when my hands were still red with her blood, it wasdoubly terrible. Hannah Montgomery was not dead, as I had thought; theblow had only stunned her. She had partially recovered her senses, andwas kneeling on one knee as we descended the ladder with the light. Idon't know if she heard us, for she must have been blinded with theblood that was flowing down her face; but she certainly heard us, andraised her clasped hands, as if to implore mercy. 

"I turned to Grace. The expression of her livid face was even moredreadful than that of the unfortunate woman. She uttered no cry, but sheput her hand to her head, and said, --

"'God has damned me for this. '

"'Then you have nothing more to fear, ' says I. 'Give me that handkerchiefoff your neck. ' She gave it without a word. I threw myself upon the bodyof the housekeeper, --and planting my knee on her breast, I tied thehandkerchief round her throat in a single tie, giving Grace one end tohold, while I drew the other tight enough to finish my terrible work. Her eyes literally started from her head, she gave one groan, and allwas over. I then cut the body in four pieces, and turned a large washtubover them. 

"'Now, Grace, you may come up and get my breakfast. '

"Yes, Mr. M---. You will not perhaps believe me, yet I assure you thatwe went upstairs and ate a good breakfast; and I laughed with Grace atthe consternation the captain would be in when he found that Hannah wasabsent. 

"During the morning a pedlar called, who travelled the country withsecond-hand articles of clothing, taking farm produce in exchange forhis wares. I bought of him two good linen-breasted shirts, which hadbeen stolen from some gentleman by his housekeeper. While I was chattingwith the pedlar, I remarked that Grace had left the house, and I saw herthrough the kitchen-window talking to a young lad by the well, who oftencame across to borrow an old gun from my master to shoot ducks. I calledto her to come in, which she appeared to me to do very reluctantly. Ifelt that I was in her power, and I was horribly afraid of her betrayingme in order to save her own and the captain's life. I now hated her frommy very soul, and could have killed her without the least pity orremorse. 

"'What do you want, Macdermot!' she said sullenly. 

"'I want you. I dare not trust you out of my sight. I know what youare, --you are plotting mischief against me; but if you betray me I willbe revenged; if I have to follow you to--for that purpose. '

"'Why do you doubt my word, Macdermot? Do you think I want to hangmyself?'

"'No, not yourself, but me. You are too bad to be trusted. What were yousaying just now to that boy?'

"'I told him that the captain was not at home, and I dared not lend himthe gun. '

"'You were right. The gun will be wanted at home. '. 

"She shuddered and turned away. It seems that she had had enough ofblood, and shewed some feeling at last. I kept my eye upon her, andwould not suffer her for a moment out of my sight. 

"At noon the captain drove into the yard, and I went out to take thehorse. Before he had time to alight, he asked for Hannah. I told himthat she was out, that she went off the day before, and had notreturned, but that we expected her in every minute. 

"He was very much annoyed, and said that she had no business to leavethe house during his absence, --that he would give her a good rating whenshe came home. 

"Grace asked if she should get his breakfast?

"He said, 'He wanted none. He would wait till Hannah came back, andthen he would take a cup of coffee. '

"He then went into the parlour; and throwing himself down upon the sofa, commenced reading a magazine he had brought with him from Toronto. 

"'I thought he would miss the young lady, ' said Grace. 'He has no ideahow close she is to him at this moment. I wonder why I could not makehim as good a cup of coffee as Hannah. I have often made it for him whenhe did not know it. But what is sweet from her hand, would be poisonfrom mine. But I have had my revenge!'

"Dinner time came, and out came the captain to the kitchen, book inhand. 

"'Isn't Hannah back yet?'

"'No, --Sir. '

"'It's strange. Which way did she go?'

"'She did not tell us where she was going; but said that, as you wereout, it would be a good opportunity of visiting an old friend. '

"'When did she say she would be back?'

"'We expected her last night, ' said Grace. 

"'Something must have happened to the girl, Macdermot, ' turning to me. 'Put the saddle on my riding horse. I will go among the neighbours, andinquire if they have seen her. '

"Grace exchanged glances with me. 

"'Will you not stay till after dinner, Sir?'

"'I don't care, ' he cried impatiently, 'a --- for dinner. I feel toouneasy about the girl to eat. Macdermot, be quick and saddle Charley;and you, Grace, come and tell me when he is at the door. '

"He went back into the parlour, and put on his riding-coat; and I wentinto the harness-house, not to obey his orders, but to plan hisdestruction. 

"I perceived that it was more difficult to conceal a murder than I hadimagined; that the inquiries he was about to make would arouse suspicionamong the neighbours, and finally lead to a discovery. The only way toprevent this was to murder him, take what money he had brought with himfrom Toronto, and be off with Grace to the States. Whatever repugnanceI might have felt at the commission of this fresh crime, was drowned inthe selfish necessity of self-preservation. My plans were soon matured, and I hastened to put them in a proper train. 

"I first loaded the old duck gun with ball, and, putting it behind thedoor of the harness-house, I went into the parlour. I found the captainlyinig on the sofa reading, his hat and gloves beside him on the table. He started up as I entered. 

"'Is the horse ready?'

"'Not yet, Sir. Some person has been in during the night, and cut yournew English saddle almost to pieces. I wish you would step out and lookat it. I cannot put it on Charley in its present state. '

"'Don't bother me, he cried angrily; 'it is in your charge, --you areanswerable for that. Who the devil would think it worth their whileto break into the harness house to cut a saddle, when they could havecarried it off entirely? Let me have none of your tricks, Sir! You musthave done it yourself!'

"'That is not very likely, Captain Kinnaird. At any rate, it would be asatisfaction to me if you would come and look at it. '

"'I'm in too great a hurry. Put on the old one. '

"I still held the door in my hand. 'It's only a step from here to theharness-house. '

"He rose reluctantly, and followed me into the kitchen. Theharness-house formed part of a lean-to off the kitchen, and you wentdown two steps into it. He went on before me, and as he descended thesteps, I clutched the gun I had left behind the door, took my aimbetween his shoulders, and shot him through the heart. He staggeredforward and fell, exclaiming as he did so, 'O God, I am shot!'

"In a few minutes he was lying in the cellar, beside our other victim. Very little blood flowed from the wound; he bled internally. He had on avery fine shirt; and after rifling his person, and possessing myself ofhis pocketbook, I took off his shirt, and put on the one I had bought ofthe pedlar. "

"Then, " cried Mr. Mac--ie, to whom this confession was made, "that washow the pedlar was supposed to have had a hand in the murder. Thatcircumstance confused the evidence, and nearly saved your life. "

"It was just as I have told you, " said Macdermot. 

"And tell me, Macdermot, the reason of another circumstance that puzzledthe whole court. How came that magazine, which was found in thehousekeeper's bed saturated with blood, in that place, and so far fromthe spot where the murder was committed?"

"That, too, is easily explained, though it was such a riddle to yougentlemen of the law. When the captain came out to look at the saddle, he had the book open in his hand. When he was shot, he clapped the bookto his breast with both his hands. Almost all the blood that flowed fromit was caught in that book. It required some force on my part to take itfrom his grasp after he was dead. Not knowing what to do with it, Iflung it into the housekeeper's bed. While I harnessed the riding-horseinto his new buggy, Grace collected all the valuables in the house. Youknow, Sir, that we got safe on board the steamer at Toronto; but, owingto an unfortunate delay, we were apprehended, sent to jail, andcondemned to die. 

"Grace, you tell me, has been reprieved, and her sentence commuted intoconfinement in the Penitentiary for life. This seems very unjust to me, for she is certainly more criminal than I am. If she had not instigatedme to commit the murder, it never would have been done. But the priesttells me that I shall not be hung, and not to make myself uneasy on thatscore. "

"Macdermot, " said Mr. Mac--ie, "it is useless to flatter you with falsehopes. You will suffer the execution of your sentence to-morrow, ateight o'clock, in front of the jail. I have seen the order sent by thegovernor to the sheriff, and that was my reason for visiting youto-night. I was not satisfied in my own mind of your guilt. What youhave told me has greatly relieved my mind; and I must add, if ever mandeserved his sentence, you do yours. "

"When this unhappy man was really convinced that I was in earnest--thathe must pay with his life the penalty of his crime, " continued Mr. Mac--ie, "his abject cowardice and the mental agonies he endured weretoo terrible to witness. He dashed himself on the floor of his cell, andshrieked and raved like a maniac, declaring that he could not, and wouldnot die; that the law had no right to murder a man's soul as well as hisbody, by giving him no time for repentance; that if he was hung like adog, Grace Marks, in justice, ought to share his fate. Finding that allI could say to him had no effect in producing a better frame of mind Icalled in the chaplain, and left the sinner to his fate. 

"A few months ago I visited the Penitentiary; and as my pleading hadbeen the means of saving Grace from the same doom, I naturally feltinterested in her present state. I was permitted to see and speak to her;and Mrs. M---, I never shall forget the painful feelings I experiencedduring this interview. She had been five years in the Penitentiary, butstill retained a remarkably youthful appearance. The sullen assurancethat had formerly marked her countenance, had given place to a sad andhumbled expression. She had lost much of her former good looks, andseldom raised her eyes from the ground. 

"'Well, Grace, ' I said, 'how is it with you now?'

"'Bad enough, Sir, ' she answered, with a sigh; 'I ought to feel gratefulto you for all the trouble you took on my account. I thought you myfriend then, but you were the worst enemy I ever had in my life. '

"'How is that, Grace?'

"'Oh, Sir, it would have been better for me to have died with Macdermotthan to have suffered for years, as I have done, the torments of thedamned. Oh, Sir, my misery is too great for words to describe! I wouldgladly submit to the most painful death, if I thought that it would putan end to the pangs I daily endure. But though I have repented of mywickedness with bitter tears, it has pleased God that I should neveragain know a moment's peace. Since I helped Macdermot to strangle HannahMontgomery, her terrible face and those horrible bloodshot eyes havenever left me for a moment. They glare upon me by night and day, andwhen I close my eyes in despair, I see them looking into my soul--it isimpossible to shut them out. If I am at work, in a few minutes thatdreadful head is in my lap. If I look up to get rid of it, I see it inthe far corner of the room. At dinner, it is in my plate, or grinningbetween the persons who sit opposite to me at table. Every object thatmeets my sight takes the same dreadful form; and at night--at night--inthe silence and loneliness of my cell, those blazing eyes make my prisonas light as day. No, not as day--they have a terribly hot glare, thathas not the appearance of anything in this world. And when I sleep, --thatface just hovers above my own, its eyes just opposite to mine; sothat when I awake with a shriek of agony, I find them there. Oh! this ishell, Sir--these are the torments of the damned! Were I in that fieryplace, my punishment could not be greater than this. '

"The poor creature turned away, and I left her, for who could say aword of comfort to such grief? it was a matter solely between her ownconscience and God. "

Having heard this terrible narrative, I was very anxious to behold thisunhappy victim of remorse. She passed me on the stairs as I proceeded tothe part of the building where the women were kept; but on perceiving astranger, she turned her head away, so that I could not get a glimpse ofher face. 

Having made known my wishes to the matron, she very kindly called herin to perform some trifling duty in the ward, so that I might have anopportunity of seeing her. She is a middle-sized woman, with a slightgraceful figure. There is an air of hopeless melancholy in her facewhich is very painful to contemplate. Her complexion is fair, and must, before the touch of hopeless sorrow paled it, have been very brilliant. Her eyes are a bright blue, her hair auburn, and her face would berather handsome were it not for the long curved chin, which gives, asit always does to most persons who have this facial defect, a cunning, cruel expression. 

Grace Marks glances at you with a sidelong stealthy look; her eye nevermeets yours, and after a furtive regard, it invariably bends itsgaze upon the ground. She looks like a person rather above her humblestation, and her conduct during her stay in the Penitentiary was sounexceptionable, that a petition was signed by all the influentialgentlemen in Kingston, which released her from her long imprisonment. She entered the service of the governor of the Penitentiary, but thefearful hauntings of her brain have terminated in madness. She is nowin the asylum at Toronto; and as I mean to visit it when there, I maychance to see this remarkable criminal again. Let us hope that all herprevious guilt may be attributed to the incipient workings of thisfrightful malady. 

To The Wind. 

 "Stern spirit of air, wild voice of the sky! Thy shout rends the heavens, and earth trembles with dread; In hoarse hollow murmurs the billows reply, And ocean is roused in his cavernous bed. 

 "On thy broad rushing pinions destruction rides free, Unfettered they sweep the wide deserts of air; The hurricane bursts over mountain and sea, And havoc and death mark thy track with despair. 

 "When the thunder lies cradled within its dark cloud, And earth and her tribes crouch in silence and dread, Thy voice shakes the forest, the tall oak is bowed, That for ages had shook at the tempest its head. 

 "When the Lord bowed the heavens, and came down in his might, Sublimely around were the elements cast; At his feet lay the dense rolling shadows of night, But the power of Omnipotence rode on the blast. 

 "From the whirlwind he spake, when man wrung with pain, In the strength of his anguish dare challenge his God; 'Mid its thunders he told him his reasoning was vain, Till he bowed to correction, and kiss'd the just rod. 

 "When call'd by the voice of the prophet of old, In the 'valley of bones, ' to breathe over the dead; Like the sands of the sea, could their number be told, They started to life when the mandate had sped. 

 "Those chill mouldering ashes thy summons could bind, And the dark icy slumbers of ages gave way; The spirit of life took the wings of the wind, Rekindling the souls of the children of clay. 

 "Shrill trumpet of God! I shrink at thy blast, That shakes the firm hills to their centre with dread, And have thought in that conflict--earth's saddest and last-- That thy deep chilling sigh will awaken the dead!"

CHAPTER XI

Michael Macbride

 "His day of life is closing--the long night Of dreamless rest a dusky shadow throws, Between the dying and the things of earth, Enfolding in a chill oblivious pall The last sad struggles of a broken heart. Yes! ere the rising of to-morrow's sun, The bitter grief that brought him to this pass Will be forgotten in the sleep of death. " S. M. 

We left Kingston at three o'clock, P. M. , in the "Passport, " forToronto. From her commander, Captain Towhy, a fine British heart ofoak, we received the kindest attention; his intelligent conversation, and interesting descriptions of the many lands he had visited during along acquaintance with the sea, greatly lightening the tedium of thevoyage. 

When once fairly afloat on the broad blue inland sea of Ontario, yousoon lose sight of the shores, and could imagine yourself sailing ona calm day on the wide ocean. There is something, however, wanting tocomplete the deception, --the invigorating freshness--the peculiar smellof the salt water, that is so exhilarating, and which produces asensation of freedom and power that is never experienced on thesefresh-water lakes. They want the depth, the fulness, the grandeur ofthe ocean, though the wide expanse of water and sky are, in all otherrespects, the same. 

The boat seldom touches at any place before she reaches Cobourg, whichis generally at night. We stopped a short time at the wharf to putpassengers and freight on shore, and to receive fresh passengers andfreight in return. The sight of this town, which I had not seen for manyyears, recalled forcibly to my mind a melancholy scene in which Ichanced to be an actor. I will relate it here. 

When we first arrived in Canada, in 1832, we remained for three weeks atan hotel in this town, though, at that period, it was a place of muchless importance than it is at present, deserving little more than thename of a pretty rising village, pleasantly situated on the shores ofLake Ontario. The rapid improvement of the country has converted Cobourginto a thriving, populous town, and it has trebled its populationduring the lapse of twenty years. A residence in a house of publicentertainment, to those who have been accustomed to the quiet andretirement of a country life, is always unpleasant, and to strangers aswe were, in a foreign land, it was doubly repugnant to our feelings. Inspite of all my wise resolutions not to give way to despondency, but tobattle bravely against the change in my circumstances, I found myselfdaily yielding up my whole heart and soul to that worst of all maladies, home-sickness. 

It was during these hours of loneliness and dejection, while my husbandwas absent examining farms in the neighbourhoods that I had the goodfortune to form an quaintance with Mrs. C---, a Canadian lady, whoboarded with her husband in the same hotel. My new friend was a youngwoman agreeable in person, and perfectly unaffected in her manners, which were remarkably frank and kind. Hers was the first friendly faceI had seen in the colony, and it will ever be remembered by me withaffection and respect. 

One afternoon while alone in my chamber, getting my baby, a little girlof six months old, to sleep, and thinking many sad thoughts, andshedding some bitter tears for the loss of the dear country and friendsI had left for ever, a slight tap at the door roused me from my painfulreveries, and Mrs. C--- entered the room. Like most of the Canadianwomen, my friend was small of stature, slight and delicately formed, anddressed with the smartness and neatness so characteristic of the femalesof this continent, who, if they lack some of the accomplishments ofEnglish women, far surpass them in their taste in dress, their choice ofcolours, and the graceful and becoming manner in which they wear theirclothes. If my young friend had a weakness, it was on this point; but asher husband was engaged in a lucrative mercantile business, and they hadno family, it was certainly excusable. At this moment her pretty neatlittle figure was a welcome and interesting object to the home-sickemigrant. 

"What! always in tears, " said she, carefully closing the door. "Whatpleasure it would give me to see you more cheerful! This constantrepining will never do. "

"The sight of you has made me feel better already, " said I, wiping myeyes, and trying to force a smile. "M--- is away on a farm-huntingexpedition, and I have been alone all day. Can you wonder, then, thatI am so depressed? Memory is my worst companion; for by constantlyrecalling scenes of past happiness, she renders me discontented with thepresent, and hopeless of the future, and it will require all your kindsympathy to reconcile me to Canada. "

"You will like it better by and by; a new country always improves uponacquaintance. "

"Ah, never! Did I only consult my own feelings, I would be off by thenext steam-boat for England; but then my husband, my child, our scantymeans. Yes! yes! I must submit, but I find it a hard task. "

"We have all our trials, Mrs. M---; and, to tell you the truth, I do notfeel in the best spirits myself this afternoon. I came to ask you what Iam certain you will consider a strange question. "

This was said in a tone so unusually serious, that I looked up from thecradle in surprise, which her solemn aspect, and pale, tearful face, didnot tend to diminish. Before I could ask the cause of her dejection, sheadded quickly--

"Dare you read a chapter from the Bible to a dying man?"

"Dare I? Yes, certainly! Who is ill? Who is dying?"

"It's a sad story, " she continued, wiping the tears from her kindeyes. "I will tell you, however, what I know of it, just to satisfy youas to the propriety of my request. There is a poor young man in thishouse who is very sick--dying, I believe, of consumption. He came hereabout three weeks ago, without food, without money, and in a dreadfullyemaciated state. He took our good landlord, Mr. S---, on one side, and told him how he was situated, and begged that he would give himsomething to eat and a night's lodging, promising that if ever he wasrestored to health, he would repay the debt in work. You know what akind, humane man, Mr. S--- is, although, " she added, with a sly smile, "_he is a Yankee_, and so am I by right of parentage, though not of birth. Mr. S--- saw at a glance that the suppliant was an object of realcharity, and instantly complied with his request. Without asking furtherparticulars, he gave him a good bed, sent him up a bowl of hot soup, andbade him not distress himself about the future, but try and get a goodnight's rest. The next day, the young man was too ill to leave hischamber. Mr. S--- sent for old Dr. Morton, who, after examining thelad, informed his employer that he was in the last stage of consumption, and had not many days to live, and it would be advisable for Mr. S--- tohave him removed to the hospital (a pitiful shed erected for emigrantswho may chance to arrive ill with the cholera). Mr. S--- not onlyrefused to send the young man away, but has nursed him with the greatestcare, his wife and daughters taking it by turns to sit up nightly withthe poor patient. "

My friend said nothing about her own attendance on the invalid, which, I afterwards learned from Mrs. S--- had been unremitting. 

"And what account does the lad give of himself?" said I. 

"All that we know about him is, that his name is Macbride, [MichaelMacbride was not the real name of this poor young man, but is onesubstituted by the author. ] and that he is nephew to Mr. C---, ofPeterboro', an Irishman by birth, and a Catholic by religion. Someviolent altercation took place between him and his uncle a short timeago, which induced Michael to leave his house, and look out for asituation for himself. Hearing that his parents had arrived in thiscountry, and were on their way to Peterboro', he came down as far asCobourg in the hope of meeting them, when his steps were arrested bypoverty and sickness on this threshold. 

"By a singular coincidence, his mother came to the hotel yesterdayevening to inquire the way to Peterboro', and Mr. S--- found out, fromher conversation, that she was the mother of the poor lad, and heinstantly conducted her to the bedside of her son. I was sitting withhim when the interview between him and his mother took place, andI assure you that it was almost too much for my nerves--his joy andgratitude were so great at once more beholding his parent, while thegrief and distraction of the poor woman, on seeing him in a dyingstate, was agonising; and she gave vent to her feelings in uttering themost hearty curses against the country, and the persons who by theirunkindness had been the cause of his sickness. The young man seemedshocked at the unfeminine conduct of his mother, and begged me toexcuse the rude manner in which she answered me; 'for, ' says he, 'sheis ignorant and beside herself, and does not know what she is sayingor doing. '

"Instead of expressing the least gratitude to Mr. S--- for the attentionbestowed on her son, by some strange perversion of intellect she seemsto regard him and us as his especial enemies. Last night she ordered usfrom his room, and declared that her 'precious _bhoy_ was not going to dielike a _hathen_, surrounded by a parcel of heretics;' and she sent off aman on horseback for the priest and for his uncle--the very man fromwhose house he fled, and whom she accuses of being the cause of herson's death. Michael anticipates the arrival of Mr. C--- with feelingsbordering on despair, and prays that God may end his sufferings beforehe reaches Cobourg. 

"Last night Mrs. Macbride sat up with Michael herself, and would notallow us to do the least thing for him. This morning her fierce temperseems to have subsided, until her son awoke from a broken and feverishsleep, and declared that he would not die a Roman Catholic, andearnestly requested Mr. S--- to send for a Protestant clergyman. Thisgave rise to a violent scene between Mrs. Macbride and her son, whichended in Mr. S--- sending for Mr. B---, the clergyman of our village, who, unfortunately, had left this morning for Toronto, and is notexpected home for several days. Michael eagerly asked if there was anyperson present who would read to him from the Protestant Bible. Thisexcited in the mother such a fit of passion, that none of us daredattempt the task. I then thought of you, that, as a perfect stranger, she might receive you in a less hostile manner. If you are not afraid toencounter the fierce old woman, do make the attempt for the sake of thedying creature, who languishes to hear the words of life. I will watchthe baby while you are gone. "

"She is asleep, and needs no watching. I will go as you seem so anxiousabout it, " and I took my pocket Bible from the table. "But you must gowith me, for I do not know my way in this strange house. "

Carefully closing the door upon the sleeping child, I followed thelight steps of Mrs. C--- along the passage, until we reached the headof the main staircase, then, turning to the right, we entered the largepublic ballroom. In the first chamber of many that opened into thisspacious apartment we found the object that we sought. 

Stretched upon a low bed, with a feather fan in his hand, to keep offthe flies that hovered in tormenting clusters round his head, lay thedying Michael Macbride. 

The face of the young man was wasted by disease and mental anxiety; andif the features were not positively handsome, they were well andharmoniously defined, and a look of intelligence and sensibilitypervaded his countenance, which greatly interested me in his behalf. His face was deathly pale, as pale as marble, and his large sunkeneyes shone with unnatural brilliancy, their long dark lashes adding anexpression of intense melancholy to the patient endurance of sufferingthat marked his fine countenance. His nose was shrunk and drawn in aboutthe nostrils, his feverish lips apart, in order to admit a free passagefor the labouring breath, their bright red glow affording a painfulcontrast to the ghastly glitter of the brilliant white teeth within. Thethick black curls that clustered round his high forehead were moist withperspiration, and the same cold unwholesome dew trickled in large dropsdown his hollow temples. It was impossible to mistake these signs ofapproaching dissolution--it was evident to all present that death wasnot far distant. 

An indescribable awe crept over me. He looked so tranquil, so sublimedby suffering, that I felt my self unworthy to be his teacher. 

"Michael, " I said, taking the long thin white hand that lay solistlessly on the coverlid, "I am sorry to see you so ill. "

He looked at me attentively for a few minutes. --"Do not say sorry, Ma'am; rather say glad. I am glad to get away from this bad world--youngas I am--I am so weary of it. "

He sighed deeply, and tears filled his eyes. 

"I heard that you wished some one to read to you. "

"Yes, the Bible!" he cried, trying to raise himself in the bed, whilehis eager eyes were turned to me with an earnest, imploring expression. 

"I have it here. Are you able to read it for yourself?"

"I can read--but my eyes are so dim. The shadows of death float betweenme and the world; I can no longer see objects distinctly. But oh, Madam, if my soul were light, I should not heed this blindness. But all is darkhere, " laying his hand on his breast, --"dark as the grave. "

I opened the sacred book, but my own tears for a moment obscured thepage. While I was revolving in my own mind what would be the best toread to him, the book was rudely wrenched from my hand by a tall, gauntwoman, who just then entered the room. 

"Och! what do you mane by disturbing him in his dying moments wid yerthrash? It is not the likes o' you that shall throuble his sowl! Thepraste will come and administher consolation to him in his lastexthremity. "

Michael shook his head, and turned his face sorrowfully to the wall. 

"Oh, mother, " he murmured, "is that the way you treat the lady?"

"Lady, or no lady, and I mane no disrispict; it is not for the like o'her to take this on hersel'. If she will be rading, let her rade this, "and she tried to force a book of devotional prayers into my hand. Michael raised himself, and with an impatient gesture exclaimed--

"Not that--not that! It speaks no comfort to me. I will not listen toit. Mother, mother! do not stand between me and my God. I know thatyou love me--that what you do is done for the best; but the voice ofconscience will be heard above your voice. I hunger and thirst tohear the word as it stands in the Bible, and I cannot die in peaceunsatisfied. For the love of Christ, Ma'am, read a few words of comfortto a dying sinner!"

Here the mother again interposed. 

"My good woman, " I said gently putting her back, "you hear your son'searnest request. If you really love him, you will offer no oppositionto his wishes. It is not a question of creeds that is here to bedetermined, as to which is the best--yours or mine. I trust that all thefaithful followers of Christ, however named, hold the same faith, andwill be saved by the same means. I shall make no comment on what I readto your son. The Bible is its own interpreter. The Spirit of God, bywhom it was dictated, will make it clear to his comprehension. Michael, shall I commence now?"

"Yes, " he replied, "with the blessing of God!"

After putting up a short prayer I commenced reading, and continued to doso until night, taking care to select those portions of Scripture mostapplicable to his case. Never did human creature listen with moreearnestness to the words of truth. Often he repeated whole texts afterme, clasping his hands together in a sort of ecstasy, while tearsstreamed from his eyes. The old woman glared upon me from a far corner, and muttered over her beads, as if they were a spell to secure heragainst some diabolical art. When I could no longer see to read, Michaeltook my hand, and said with great earnestness--

"May God bless you, Madam! You have made me very happy. It is all clearto me now. In Christ alone I shall obtain mercy and forgiveness for mysins. It is his righteousness, and not any good works of my own, thatwill save me. Death no longer appears so dreadful to me. I can now diein peace. "

"You believe that God will pardon you, Michael, for Christ's sake; buthave you forgiven all your enemies?"

I said this in order to try his sincerity, for I had heard that heentertained hard thoughts against his uncle. 

He covered his face with his thin, wasted hands, and did not answer forsome minutes; at length he looked up with a calm smile upon his lips, and said--

"Yes, I have forgiven all--even _him_!--"

Oh, how much was contained in the stress laid so strongly and sadlyupon that little word _Him!_ How I longed to hear the story of his wrongsfrom his own lips! but he was too weak and exhausted for me to urge sucha request. Just then Dr. Morton came in, and after standing for someminutes at the bed-side, regarding his patient with fixed attention, hefelt his pulse, spoke a few kind words, gave some trifling order to hismother and Mrs. C---, and left the room. Struck by the solemnity of hismanner, I followed him into the outer apartment. 

"Excuse the liberty I am taking Dr. Morton; but I feel deeply interestedin your patient. Is he better or worse?"

"He is dying. I did not wish to disturb him in his last moments. I canbe of no further use to him. Poor lad, it's a pity! he is really a fineyoung fellow. "

I had judged from Michael's appearance that he had not long to live, butI felt inexpressibly shocked to find his end so near. On returning tothe sick room, Michael eagerly asked what the doctor thought of him?

I did not answer--I could not. 

"I see, " he said, "that I must die. I will prepare myself for it. If Ilive until the morning, will you, Madam, come and read to me again?"

I promised him that I would--or during the night, if he wished it. 

"I feel very sleepy, " he said. "I have not slept for many nights, butfor a few minutes at a time. Thank God, I am entirely free from pain: itis very good of Him to grant me this respite. "

His mother and I adjusted his pillows, and in a few seconds he wasslumbering as peacefully as a little child. 

The feelings of the poor woman seemed softened towards me, and for thefirst time since I entered the room she shed tears. I asked the age ofher son? She told me that he was two-and-twenty. She wrung my hand hardas I left the room, and thanked me for my kindness to her poor _bhoy_. 

It was late that night when my husband returned from the country, and wesat for several hours talking over our affairs, and discussing the soiland situation of the various farms he had visited during the day. It waspast twelve when we retired to rest, but my sleep was soon disturbedby some one coughing violently, and my thoughts instantly reverted toMichael Macbride, as the hoarse sepulchral sounds echoed through thelarge empty room beyond which he slept. The coughing continued for someminutes, and I was so much overcome by fatigue and the excitement of theevening that I fell asleep, and did not awake until six o'clock thefollowing morning. 

Anxious to hear how the poor invalid had passed the night, I dressedmyself and hurried to his chamber. 

On entering the ball-room I found the doors and windows all open, aswell as the one that led to the sick man's chamber. My foot was arrestedon the threshold--for death was there. Yes! that fit of coughing hadterminated his life--Michael had expired without a struggle in the armsof his mother. 

The gay broad beams of the sun were not admitted into that silent room. The window was open, but the green blinds were carefully closed, admitting a free circulation of air, and just light enough to render theobjects within distinctly visible. The body was laid out upon the bedenveloped in a white sheet; the head and hands alone were bare. Alltraces of sorrow and disease had passed away from the majestic face, that, interesting in life, now looked beautiful and holy in death--andhappy, for the seal of heaven seemed visibly impressed upon the purepale brow. He was at peace, and though tears of human sympathy for amoment dimmed my sight, I could not regret that it was so. 

While I still stood in the door-way, Mrs. Macbride, whom I had notobserved until then, rose from her knees beside the bed. She seemedhardly in her right mind, and began talking and muttering to herself. 

"Och hone! he is dead--my fine bhoy is dead--widout a praste to pray widhim, or bless him in the last hour--wid none of his frinds and relationsto lamint iver him, or wake him, but his poor heartbroken mother--Ochhone! och hone! that I should ever live to see this day. Get up, my finebhoy--get up wid ye! Why do you lie there?--owlder folk nor youare abroad in the sunshine. --Get up, and show them how supple you are!"

Then laying her cheek down to the cold cheek of the dead, she exclaimed, amid broken sobs and groans--

"Oh, spake to me--spake to me, Mike--my own Mike--'tis the mother thataxes ye. "

There was a deep pause, when the bereaved parent again broke forth--

"Mike, Mike--why did your uncle rare you like a jintleman to bring youto this. Och hone! och hone!--oh, never did I think to see your head lieso low. --My bhoy! my bhoy!--why did you die?--Why did You lave yourfrinds, and your money, and your good clothes, and your poor owldmother?"

Convulsive sobs again choked her utterance. She flung herself upon theneck of the corpse, and bathed the face and hands of him, who had oncebeen her own, with burning tears. 

I now came forward, and offered a few words of consolation. Vain--all invain. The ear of sorrow is deaf to all save its own agonised moans. Grief is as natural to the human mind as joy, and in their own appointedhour both will have their way. 

The grief of this unhappy Irish mother, like the down-pouring of athunder shower, could not be restrained. But her tears soon flowed inless violent gushes--exhaustion rendered her more calm. She sat upon thebed, and looked cautiously round--"Hist!--did not you hear a voice? Itwas him who spake--yes--it was his own swate voice. I knew he was notdead. See, he moves!" This was the fond vain delusion of maternal love. She took his cold hand, and clasped it to her heart. 

"Och hone!--he is gone, and left me for ever and ever. Oh, that my cruelbrother was here--that I might point to my murthered child, and cursehim to his face!"

"Is Mr. C--- your brother?" said I, taking this opportunity to diverther grief into another channel. 

"Yes--yes--he is my brother, bad cess to him! and uncle to the bhoy. Listen to me, and I will tell you some of my mind. It will ease mysorrow, for my poor heart is breaking entirely, and he is there, "pointing to the corpse, "and he knows that what I am afther telling youis thrue. 

"I came of poor but dacent parints. There was but the two of us, PatC--- and I. My father rinted a good farm, and he sint Pat to school, andgave him the eddication of a jintleman. Our landlord took a liking forthe bhoy, and gave him the manes to emigrate to Canady. This vexed myfather intirely, for he had no one barring myself to help him on thefarm. Well, by and by, I joined myself to one whom my father did notapprove--a bhoy he had hired to work wid him in the fields--an' he wroteto my brother (for my mother had been dead ever since I was a wee thing)to ax him in what manner he had best punish my disobedience; and he jistadvises him to turn us off the place. I suffered, wid my husband, theextremes of poverty: we had seven childer, but they all died of thefaver, and hard times, save Mike and the two weeny ones. In the midst ofour disthress, it plased the Lord to remove my father, widout softenin'his heart towards me. But he left my Mike three hunder pounds; to be hiswhin he came to a right age; and he appointed my brother Pat guardian tothe bhoy. 

"My brother returned to Ireland when he got the news of my father'sdeath, in order to get his share of the property, for my father left himthe same as he did my son. He took away my bhoy wid him to Canady, inorder to make a landed jintleman of him. Och hone! I thought my heartwould broken thin, whin he took away my swate bhoy; but I was to live tosee a darker day yet. "

Here a long burst of passionate weeping interrupted her story. 

"Many long years came an' wint, and we niver got the scrape of a penfrom my brother to tell us of the bhoy at all at all. He might jistas well have been dead, for aught we knew to the conthrary; but weconsowled oursilves wid the thought, that he would niver go about toharm his own flesh and blood. 

"At last a letther came, written in Mike's own hand; and a beautifulhand it was that same, --the good God bless him for the throuble he tookin makin' it so nate an' aisy for us poor folk to rade. It was full oflove and respict to his poor parents, an' he longin' to see them in'Meriky; but he said he had written by stealth, for he was very unhappyintirely, --that his uncle thrated him hardly, becaze he would not be apraste, --an' wanted to lave him, to work for himsel'; an' he refused tobuy him a farm wid the money his grandfather left him, which he wasbound by the will to do, as Mike was now of age, an' his own masther. 

"Whin we got the word from the lad, we gathered our little all together, an' took passage for Canady, first writin' to Mike whin we should start, an' the name of the vessel; an' that we should wait at Cobourg untilsich time as he came to fetch us himsel' to his uncle's place. 

"But oh, Ma'am, our throubles had only begun. My poor husband and myyoungest bhoy died of the cholera comin' out; an' I saw their prechiousbodies cast into the salt, salt saa. Still the hope of seeing Mikeconsowled me for all my disthress. Poor Pat an' I were worn out entirelywhin we got to Kingston, an' I left the child wid a frind, an' came onalone, --I was so eager to see Mike, an' tell him all my throubles;an' there he lies, och hone! my heart, my poor heart, it will breakentirely. "

"And what caused your son's separation from his uncle?" said I. 

The woman shook her head. "The thratement he got from him was too bad. But shure he would not disthress me by saying aught agin my mother'sson. Did he not break his heart, and turn him dying an' pinniless on thewide world? An' could he have done worse had he stuck a knife into hisheart?"

"Ah!" she continued, with bitterness, "it was the gowld, the dhirtygowld, that kilt my poor bhoy. His uncle knew that if Mike were dead, itwould come to Pat as the ne'est in degree, an' he could keep it all tohimsel' for the ne'est ten years. "

This statement appeared only too probable. Still there was a mysteryabout the whole affair that required a solution, and it was severalyears before I accidentally learned the sequel of this sad history. 

In the meanwhile the messenger, despatched by the kind Mr. S--- toPeterboro' to inform Michael's uncle of the dying state of his nephew, returned without that worthy, and with this unfeeling message--thatMichael Macbride had left him without any just cause, and should receiveno consolation from him in his last moments. 

Mr. S--- did not inform the poor bereaved widow of her brother's cruelmessage; but finding that she was unable to defray the expensesattendant on her son's funeral, like a true Samaritan, he supplied themout of his own pocket, and followed the remains of the unhappy strangerthat Providence had cast upon his charity to the grave. In accordancewith Michael's last request, he was buried in the cemetry of the Englishchurch. 

Six years after these events took place, Mr. W--- called upon me at ourplace in Douro, and among other things told me of the death of Michael'suncle, Mr. C---. Many things were mentioned by Mr. W---, who happenedto know him, to his disadvantage. "But of all his evil acts, " he said, "the worst thing I knew of him was his conduct to his nephew. "

"How was that?" said I, as the death-bed of Michael Macbride rosedistinctly before me. 

"It was a bad business. My housekeeper lived with the old man at thetime, and from her I heard all about it. It seems that he had been leftguardian to this boy, whom he brought out with him some years ago tothis country, together with a little girl about two years younger, whowas the child of a daughter of his mother by a former marriage, so thatthe children were half-cousins to each other. Elizabeth was a modest, clever little creature, and grew up a very pretty girl. Michael wasstrikingly handsome, had a fine talent for music, and in person andmanners was far above his condition. There was some property, to theamount of several hundred pounds, coming to the lad when he reached theage of twenty-one. This legacy had been left him by his grandfather, andMr. C--- was to invest it in land for the boy's use. This, for reasonsbest known to himself, he neglected to do, and brought the lad up to theservice of the altar, and continually urged him to become a priest. This did not at all accord with Michael's views and wishes, and heobstinately refused to study for the holy office, and told his unclethat he meant to become a farmer as soon as he obtained his majority. 

"Living constantly in the same house, and possessing a congeniality oftastes and pursuits, a strong affection had grown up between Michael andhis cousin, which circumstance proved the ostensible reason given byMr. C--- for his ill conduct to the young people, as by the laws of hischurch they were too near of kin to marry. Finding that their attachmentwas too strong to be wrenched asunder by threats, and that they hadactually formed a design to leave him, and embrace the Protestant faith, he confined the girl to her chamber, without allowing her a fire duringa very severe winter. Her constitution, naturally weak, sunk under thesetrials, and she died early in the spring of 1832, without being allowedthe melancholy satisfaction of seeing her lover before she closed herbrief life. 

"Her death decided Michael's fate. Rendered desperate by grief, hereproached his bigoted uncle as the author of his misery, and demandedof him a settlement of his property, as it was his intention to quit hisroof for ever. Mr. C--- laughed at his reproaches, and treated histhreats with scorn, and finally cast him friendless upon the world. 

"The poor fellow played very well upon the flute, and possessed anexcellent tenor voice; and, by the means of these accomplishments, hecontrived for a few weeks to obtain a precarious living. 

"Broken-hearted and alone in the world, he soon fell a victim tohereditary disease of the lungs, and died, I have been told, at anhotel in Cobourg; and was buried at the expense of Mr. S---, thetavern-keeper, out of charity. "

"The latter part of your statement I know to be correct; and the wholeof it forcibly corroborates the account given to me by the poor lad'smother. I was at Michael's deathbed; and if his life was replete withsorrow and injustice, his last hours were peaceful and happy. "

I could now fully comprehend the meaning of the sad stress laid upon theone word which had struck me so forcibly at the time, when I askedhim if he had forgiven _all_ his enemies, and he replied, after thatlengthened pause, "Yes; I have forgiven them all--even _him!_"

It did, indeed, require some exertion of Christian forbearance toforgive such injuries. 

Song. 

 "There's hope for those who sleep In the cold and silent grave, For those who smile, for those who weep, For the freeman and the slave!

 "There's hope on the battle plain, 'Mid the shock of charging foes; On the dark and troubled main, When the gale in thunder blows. 

 "He who dispenses hope to all, Withholds it not from thee; He breaks the woe-worn captive's thrall, And sets the prisoner free!"

CHAPTER XII

Jeanie Burns

 "Ah, human hearts are strangely cast, Time softens grief and pain; Like reeds that shiver in the blast, They bend to rise again. But she in silence bowed her head, To none her sorrow would impart; Earth's faithful arms enclose the dead, And hide for aye her broken heart!" S. M. 

While the steamboat is leaving Cobourg in the distance, and, through thehours of night and darkness, holds on her course to Toronto, I willrelate another true but mournful history from the romance of real life, that was told to me during my residence in this part of the country. 

One morning our man-servant, James N---, came to me to request theloan of one of the horses to attend a funeral. M--- was absent onbusiness at Toronto, and the horses and the man's time were both greatlyneeded to prepare the land for the full crop of wheat. I demurred; Jameslooked anxious and disappointed; and the loan of the horse was at lengthgranted, but not without a strict injunction that he should return tohis work directly the funeral was over. He did not come back until latethat evening. 

I had just finished my tea, and was nursing my wrath at his staying outthe whole day, when the door of the room (we had but one, and that wasshared in common with the servants) opened, and the delinquent at lastappeared. He hung up the new English saddle, and sat down before theblazing hearth without speaking a word. 

"What detained you so long, James? You ought to have had half an acre ofland, at least, ploughed to-day. "

"Verra true, mistress; it was nae fau't o' mine. I had mista'en thehour; the funeral did na come in afore sundoon, an' I cam' awa' as suneas it was owre. "

"Was it any relation of yours?"

"Na', na', jest a freend, an auld acquaintance, but nane o' mine ain kin. I never felt sae sad in a' my life as I ha'e dune this day. I ha'e seenthe clods piled on mony a heid, an' never felt the saut tear in my een. But puir Jeanie! puir lass! it was a sair sight to see them thrown downupon her. "

My curiosity was excited; I pushed the tea-things from me, and toldBell, my maid, to give James his supper. 

"Naething for me the night, Bell. I canna' eat; my thoughts will a' runon that puir lass. Sae young, sae bonnie, an' a few months ago as blytheas a lark, an' noo a clod o' the airth. Hout! we maun a' dee when our aintime comes; but, somehow, I canna think that Jeanie ought to ha'e ganesae sune. "

"Who is Jeanie Burns? Tell me, James, something about her?"

In compliance with my request, the man gave me the following story. I wish I could convey it in his own words; but though I perfectlyunderstand the Scotch dialect when I hear it spoken, I could not writeit in its charming simplicity, --that honest, truthful brevity, which isso characteristic of this noble people. The smooth tones of the blarneymay flatter our vanity, and please us for the moment, but who placesany confidence in those by whom it is employed? We know that it is onlyuttered to cajole and deceive; and when the novelty wears off, therepetition awakens indignation and disgust. But who mistrusts the blunt, straightforward speech of the land of Burns? For good or ill, it strikeshome to the heart. 

Jeanie Burns was the daughter of a respectable shoemaker, who gained acomfortable living by his trade in a small town of Ayrshire. Her father, like herself, was an only child, and followed the same vocation, andwrought under the same roof that his father had done before him. Theelder Burns had met with many reverses, and now, helpless and blind, was entirely dependent upon the charity of his son. Honest Jock had notmarried until late in life, that he might more comfortably provide forthe wants of his aged parents. His mother had been dead for some years. She was a good, pious woman, and Jock quaintly affirmed "that it hadpleased the Lord to provide a better inheritance for his dear auldmither than his arm could win, proud an' happy as he wud ha'e been toha'e supported her, when she was nae langer able to work for him. "

Jock's filial love was repaid at last. Chance threw in his way a cannieyoung lass, baith gude an' bonnie, an' wi' a hantel o' siller. They wereunited, and Jeanie was the sole fruit of the marriage. But Jeanie proveda host in herself, and grew up the best-natured, the prettiest, and themost industrious girl in the village, and was a general favourite withyoung and old. She helped her mother in the house, bound shoes for herfather, and attended to all the wants of her dear old grandfather, Saunders Burns, who was so much attached to his little handmaid, thathe was never happy when she was absent. 

Happiness, however, is not a flower of long growth in this world; itrequires the dew and sunlight of heaven to nourish it, and it soonwithers, removed from its native skies. The cholera visited the remotevillage; it smote the strong man in the pride of his strength, and thematron in the beauty of her prime, while it spared the helpless and theaged, the infant of a few days, and the patriarch of many years. BothJeanie's parents fell victims to the fatal disease, and the old blindSaunders and the young Jeanie were left to fight alone a hard battlewith poverty and grief. 

The truly deserving are never entirely forsaken; God may afflict themwith many trials, but He watches over them still, and often providesfor their wants in a manner truly miraculous. Sympathizing friendsgathered round the orphan girl in her hour of need, and obtained forher sufficient employment to enable her to support her old grandfatherand herself, and provide for them the common necessaries of life. 

Jeanie was an excellent sempstress, and what between making waistcoatsand trousers for the tailors, and binding shoes for the shoemakers, --abusiness that she thoroughly understood, --she soon had her little hiredroom neatly furnished, and her grandfather as clean and spruce as ever. When she led him into the kirk of a sabbath morning, all the neighboursgreeted the dutiful daughter with an approving smile, and the old manlooked so serene and happy that Jeanie was fully repaid for her laboursof love. 

Her industry and piety often formed the theme of conversation to theyoung lads of the village. "What a guid wife Jeanie Burns wull mak'!"cried one. 

"Aye, " said another; "he need na complain of ill fortin who has the luckto get the like o' her. "

"An' she's sae bonnie, " would Willie Robertson add, with a sigh; "I wudna covet the wealth o' the hale world an' she were mine. "

Willie Robertson was a fine active young man, who bore an excellentcharacter, and his comrades thought it very likely that Willie wasto be the fortunate man. Robertson was the son of a farmer in theneighbourhood; he had no land of his own, and he was the youngest of avery large family. From a boy he had assisted his father in working thefarm for their common maintenance; but after he took to looking at JeanieBurns at kirk, instead of minding his prayers, he began to wish that hehad a homestead of his own, which he could ask Jeanie and hergrandfather to share. 

He made his wishes known to his father. The old man was prudent. Amarriage with Jeanie Burns offered no advantages in a pecuniary view;but the girl was a good, honest girl, of whom any man might be proud. Hehad himself married for love, and had enjoyed great comfort in his wife. 

"Willie, my lad, " he said, "I canna gi'e ye a share o' the farm. It isowre sma' for the mony mouths it has to feed. I ha'e laid by a hantel o'siller for a rainy day, an' this I maun gi'e ye to win a farm foryoursel' in the woods of Canada. There is plenty o' room there, an'industry brings its ain reward. If Jeanie Burns lo'es you as weel asyour dear mither did me, she will be fain to follow you there. "

Willie grasped his father's hand, for he was too much elated to speak, and he ran away to tell his tale of love to the girl of his heart. Jeanie had long loved Robertson in secret, and they were not long insettling the matter. They forgot, in their first moments of joy, thatold Saunders had to be consulted, for they had determined to take theold man with them. But here an obstacle occurred, of which they had notdreamed. Old age is selfish, and Saunders obstinately refused to complywith their wishes. The grave that held the remains of his wife and son, was dearer to him than all the comforts promised to him by the impatientlovers in that far foreign land. Jeanie wept, but Saunders, deaf andblind, neither heard nor saw her grief, and like a dutiful child shebreathed no complaint to him, but promised to remain with him until hishead rested on the same pillow with the dead. 

This was a sore and great trial to Willie Robertson, but he consoledhimself for the disappointment with the reflection that Saunders, in thecourse of nature, could not live long; and that he would go and preparea place for his Jean, and have everything ready for her receptionagainst the old man died. 

"I was a cousin of Willie's, " continued James, "by the mither's side, an' her persuaded me to go wi' him to Canada. We set sail the first o'May, an' were here in time to chop a sma' fallow for our fall crop. Willie had more o' the warld's gear than I, for his father had providedhim wi' sufficient funds to purchase a good lot o' wild land, which hedid in the township of M---, an' I was to wark wi' him on shares. Wewere amang the first settlers in that place, an' we found the warkbefore us rough an' hard to our heart's content. Willie, however, hada strong motive for exertion, an' neever did man wark harder than hedid that first year on his bush-farm, for the love o' Jeanie Burns. Webuilt a comfortable log-house, in which we were assisted by the fewnieighbours we had, who likewise lent a han' in clearing ten acres wehad chopped for fall crop. 

"All this time Willie kept up a correspondence wi' Jeanie; an' he usedto talk to me o' her comin' out, an' his future plans, every night whenour wark was dune. If I had na lovit and respected the girl mysel', Isud ha'e got unco tired o' the subject. 

"We had jest put in our first crop o' wheat, when a letter cam' fraeJeanie bringin' us the news o' her grandfather's death. Weel I ken theword that Willie spak' to me when he closed the letter, --'Jamie, theauld man's gane at last; an' God forgi'e me, I feel too gladsome togreet. Jeanie is willin' to come whenever I ha'e the means to bring herout; an' hout, man, I'm jest thinkin' that she winna ha'e to wait lang. '

"Guid workmen were gettin' very high wages jest then, an' Willie leftthe care o' the place to me, an' hired for three months wi' auld squireJones, in the next township. Willie was an unco guid teamster, an' couldput his han' to ony kind o' wark; an' when his term o' service expired, he sent Jeanie forty dollars to pay her passage out, which he hoped shewould not delay longer than the spring. 

"He got an answer frae Jeanie full o' love an' gratitude; but shethought that her voyage might be delayed until the fall. The guidwoman with whom she had lodged sin' her parents died had jest lost herhusband, an' was in a bad state o' health, an' she begged Jeanie to bidewi' her until her daughter could leave her service in Edinburgh, an' cometo tak' charge o' the house. This person had been a kind an' steadfastfrin' to Jeanie in a' her troubles, an' had helped her to nurse the auldman in his dyin' illness. I am sure it was jest like Jeanie to act asshe did; she had all her life looked more to the comforts of others thanto her ain. Robertson was an angry man when he got that letter, an' hesaid, --'If that was a' the lo'e that Jeanie Burns had for him, to preferan auld wife's comfort, wha was naething to her, to her betrothedhusband, she might bide awa' as lang as she pleased; he would never fashhimsel' to mak' screed o' a pen to her agen. '

"I could na think that the man was in earnest, an' I remonstrated wi'him on his folly an' injustice. This ended in a sharp quarrel atween us, and I left him to gang his ain gate, an' went to live with my uncle, whokept the smithy in the village. 

"After a while, we heard that Willie Robertson was married to aCanadian woman, neither young nor good-looking, an' varra much hisinferior every way; but she had a guid lot o' land in the rear o'his farm. Of course I thought it was a' broken aff wi' puir Jean, an'I wondered what she wud spier at the marriage. 

"It was early in June, an' the Canadian woods were in their firstflush o' green, --an' how green an' lightsome they be in their springdress!--when Jeanie Burns landed in Canada. She travelled her lane upthe country, wonderin' why Willie was not at Montreal to meet her, ashe had promised in the last letter he sent her. It was late in theafternoon when the steamboat brought her to Cobourg, an' without waitin'to ask any questions respectin' him, she hired a man an' cart to takeher an' her luggage to M---. The road through the bush was varra heavy, an' it was night before they reached Robertson's clearin'. Wi' somedifficulty the driver fund his way among the charred logs to the cabindoor. 

"Hearin' the sound o' wheels, the wife--a coarse, ill-dressedslattern--cam' out to spier wha' could bring strangers to sic' anout-o'-the-way place at that late hour. Puir Jeanie! I can weel imagin'the flutterin' o' her heart, when she spiered o' the coarse wife 'ifher ain Willie Robertson was at hame?'

"'Yes, ' answered the woman, gruffly; 'but he is not in frae the fallowyet. You maun ken him up yonder, tending the blazing logs. '

"Whiles Jeanie was strivin' to look in the direction which the womanpointed out, an' could na see through the tears that blinded her e'e, the driver jumped down frae the cart, an' asked the puir lass whar hesud leave her trunks, as it was getting late, and he must be aff. 

"'You need na bring thae big kists in here, ' quoth Mistress Robertson;'I ha'e na room in my house for strangers an' their luggage. '

"'Your house!' gasped Jeanie, catchin' her arm. 'Did ye na tell me that_he_ lived here?--an' wherever Willie Robertson bides, Jeanie Burns sudbe a welcome guest. Tell him, ' she continued, tremblin' all owre, --forshe telt me afterwards that there was somethin' in the woman's look an'tone that made the cold chills run to her heart, 'that an auld frindfrae Scotland has jest come aff a lang, wearisome journey, to see him. '

"'You may spier for yoursel', ' said the woman, angrily. 'My husband isnoo comin' dune the clearin'. '

"The word husband was scarcely out o' her mouth, than puir Jeanie fellas ane dead across the door-stair. The driver lifted up the unfortunat'girl, carried her into the cabin, an' placed her in a chair, regardlesso' the opposition of Mistress Robertson, whose jealousy was now fairlyaroused, an' she declared that the bold hizzie sud not enter her doors. 

"It was a long time afore the driver succeeded in bringin' Jeanie tohersel'; an' she had only jest unclosed her een, when Willie cam' in. 

"'Wife, ' he said, 'whose cart is this standin' at the door? an' what dothese people want here?'

"'You ken best, ' cried the angry woman. 'That creater is naeacquaintance o' mine; an' if she is suffered to remain here, I willquit the house. '

"'Forgi'e me, gude woman, for having unwittingly offended you, ' saidJeanie, rising; 'but mercifu' Father! how sud I ken that WillieRobertson--my ain Willie--had a wife? Oh, Willie!' she cried, coverin'her face in her hands, to hide a' the agony that was in her heart, 'Iha'e come a lang way, an' a weary, to see ye, an' ye might ha'e sparedme the grief, the burnin' shame o' this. Fareweel, Willie Robertson! Iwill never mair trouble ye nor her wi' my presence; but this cruel deedo' yours has broken my heart!'

"She went her lane weepin'; an' he had na the courage to detain her, orspeak ae word o' comfort in her sair distress, or attempt to gi'e onyaccount o' his strange conduct. Yet, if I ken him right, that must ha'ebeen the most sorrowfu' moment in his life. 

"Jeanie was a distant connexion o' my aunt's; an' she found us out thatnight, on her return to the village, an' tould us a' her grief. My auntwas a kind, guid woman, an' was indignant at the treatment she hadreceived, an' loved and cherished her as if she had been her ain bairn. For two whole weeks she kept her bed, an' was sae ill that the doctordespaired o' her life; and when she did come amang us agen, the rosehad faded aff her cheek, an' the light frae her sweet blue e'e, an' shespak' in a low, subdued voice; but she never accused him o' being thecause o' her grief. One day she called me aside and said--

"'Jamie, you ken'd how I lo'ed an' trusted him, an' obeyed his ain wishin comin' out to this wearisome country to be his wife. But 'tis a' owrenow. ' An' she passed her sma' hands tightly owre her breast, to keepdoon the swellin' o' her heart. 'Jamie, I ken that this is a' for thebest; I lo'ed him too weel, --mair than ony creature sud lo'e a perishin'thing o' earth. But I thought that he wud be sae glad an' sae proud tosee his ain Jeanie sae sune. But, oh! ah, weel; I maun na think o' that. What I wud jest say is this'--and she tuk a sma' packet frae her breast, while the saut tears streamed doon her pale cheeks--'he sent me fortydollars to bring me owre the sea to him. God bless him for that! I kenhe worked hard to earn it, for he lo'ed me then. I was na idle duringhis absence; I had saved enough to bury my dear auld grandfather, an'to pay my expenses out; an' I thought, like the guid servant in theparable, I wud return Willie his ain wi' interest, an' I hoped to seehim smile at my diligence, an' ca' me his dear, bonnie lassie. Jamie, I canna keep his siller; it lies like a weight o' lead on my heart. Tak' it back to him, an' tell him frae me, that I forgi'e him a' hiscruel deceit, an' pray God to grant him prosperity, an' restore to himthat peace o' mind o' which he has robbed me for ever. '

"I did as she bade me. Willie Robertson looked stupified when Idelivered her message. The only remark he made when I gied him backthe siller was, 'I maun be gratefu' man, that she did na curse me. 'The wife cam' in, an' he hid awa' the packet and slunk aff. The manlooked degraded in his ain sight, an' sae wretched, that I pitied himfrae my heart. 

"When I cam' home, Jeanie met me at the yet. 'Tell me, ' she said, in adowie, anxious voice, --'tell me, cousin Jamie, what passed atween ye. Had Willie nae word for me?'

"'Naething, Jeanie. The man is lost to himsel'--to a' who ance wishedhim weel. He is na worth a decent body's thought. '

"She sighed sairly; an' I saw that her heart craved after some word ortoken frae him. She said nae mair; but pale an' sorrowfu', the verraghaist o' her former sel', went back into the house. 

"Frae that hour she never breathed his name to ony o' us; but we allken'd that it was her lo'e for him that was wearin' out her life. Thegrief that has nae voice, like the canker-worm, lies ne'est the heart. Puir Jean, she held out durin' the simmer, but when the fa' cam', shejest withered awa', like a flower nipped by the early frost; an' thisday we laid her in the earth. 

"After the funeral was owre, an' the mourners a' gane, I stood besideher grave, thinking owre the days o' my boyhood, when she an' I werehappy weans, an' used to pu' the gowans together, on the heathery hillso' dear auld Scotland. An' I tried in vain to understan' the mysteriousprovidence o' God that had stricken her, who seemed sae guid an' pure, anspared the like o' me, who was mair deservin' o' his wrath, when I hearda deep groan, an' I saw Willie Robertson standin' near me, beside thegrave. 

"'You may as weel spare your grief noo, ' said I, for I felt hard towardshim, 'an' rejoice that the weary is at rest. '

"'It was I killed her, ' said he; 'an' the thought will haunt me to mylast day. Did she remember me on her death-bed?'

"'Her thoughts were only ken'd by Him, Willie, wha reads the secrets ofa' hearts. Her end was peace; and her Saviour's blessed name was thelast sound on her lips. If ever woman died o' a broken heart, there shelies. '

"'Ah, Jeanie!' he cried, 'my ain darlin' Jeanie! my blessed lammie! I wasna worthy o' yer luve. My heart, too, is breakin'. To bring ye back ancemair, I would gladly lay me doon an' dee. '

"An' he flung himsel' upon the fresh piled sods, an' greeted likea child. 

"When he grew more calm, we had a long conversation about the past; an'truly I think that the man was na in his right senses, when he marriedyon wife. At ony rate, he is nae lang for this world; he has fretted theflesh aff his banes, an' afore mony months are owre, his heid wul lie aslow as puir Jeanie Burns. "

My Native Land. 

 "My native land, my native land! How many tender ties, Connected with thy distant strand, Call forth my heavy sighs!

 "The rugged rock, the mountain stream, The hoary pine-tree's shade, Where often in the noon-tide beam, A happy child I played. 

 "I think of thee, when early light Is trembling on the hill; I think of thee at dead of night, When all is dark and still. 

 "I think of those whom I shall see On this fair earth no more; And wish in vain for wings to flee Back to thy much-loved shore. "

CHAPTER XIII

Lost Children

 "Oh, how I love the pleasant woods, when silence reigns around, And the mighty shadows calmly sleep, like giants on the ground, And the fire-fly sports her fairy lamp beside the moonlit stream, And the lofty trees, in solemn state, frown darkly in the beam!" S. M. 

There was a poor woman on board the steamer, who was like myself insearch of health, and was going to the West to see her friends, and toget rid of (if possible) a hollow, consumptive cough. She looked tome in the last stage of pulmonary consumption; but she seemed to hopeeverything from the change of air. 

She had been for many years a resident in the woods, and had sufferedgreat hardships; but the greatest sorrow she ever knew, she said, andwhat had pulled her down the most, was the loss of a fine boy, who hadstrayed away after her through the bush, when she went to nurse a sickneighbour; and though every search had been made for the child, he hadnever been found. "It is a many years ago, " she said, "and he would be afine young man now, if he were alive. " And she sighed deeply, and stillseemed to cling to the idea that he might possibly be living, with asort of forlorn hope, that to me seemed more melancholy than thecertainty of his death. 

This brought to my recollection many tales that I had been told, whileliving in the bush, of persons who had perished in this miserablemanner. Some of these tales may chance to interest my readers. 

I was busy sewing one day for my little girl, when we lived in thetownship of Hamilton, when Mrs. H---, a woman whose husband farmed ourfarm on shares, came running in quite out of breath, and cried out--

"Mrs. M---, you have heard the good news?--One of the lost children isfound!"

I shook my head, and looked inquiringly. 

"What! did not you hear about it? Why, one of Clark's little fellows, who were lost last Wednesday in the woods, has been found. "

"I am glad of it. But how were they lost?"

"Oh, 'tis a thing of very common occurrence here. New settlers, who areignorant of the danger of going astray in the forest, are always havingtheir children lost. I take good care never to let my boys go alone tothe bush. But people are so careless in this respect, that I wonder itdoes not more frequently happen. 

"These little chaps are the sons of a poor emigrant who came out thissummer, and took up a lot of wild land just at the back of us, towardsthe plains. Clark is busy logging up his fallow for fall wheat, on whichhis family must depend for bread during the ensuing year; and he is soanxious to get it ready in time, that he will not allow himself an hourat noon to go home to get his dinner, which his wife generally sends ina basket to the woods by his eldest daughter, a girl of fourteen. 

"Last Wednesday, the girl had been sent on an errand by her mother, whothought that, in her absence, she might venture to trust the two boys totake the dinner to their father. The boys, who are from five to sevenyears old, and very smart and knowing for their age, promised to mindall her directions, and went off quite proud of the task, carrying thelittle basket between them. 

"How they came to ramble off into the woods, the younger child, who hasbeen just found, is too much stupified to tell, and perhaps he is tooyoung to remember. 

"At night Clark returned from his work, and scolded his wife for notsending his dinner as usual; but the poor woman, (who all day hadquieted her fears with the belief that the children had stayed withtheir father, ) instead of paying any regard to his angry words, demanded, in a tone of agony, what had become of her children?

"Tired and hungry as Clark was, he instantly comprehended the danger towhich his boys were exposed, and started off in pursuit of them. Theshrieks of the distracted woman soon called the neighbours together, whoinstantly joined in the search. It was not until this afternoon that anytrace could be discovered of the lost children, when Brian, the hunter, found the youngest boy, Johnnie, lying fast asleep upon the trunk of afallen tree, fifteen miles back in the bush. "

"And the brother?"

"Will never, I fear, be heard of again. They have searched for him inall directions, and have not discovered him. The story little Johnnietells is to this effect. During the first two days of their absence, thefood they had brought in the basket for their father's dinner sustainedlife; but to-day, it seems that little Johnnie grew very hungry, andcried continually for bread. William, the eldest boy, promised him breadif he would try and walk farther; but his feet were bleeding and sore, and he could not walk another step. For some time the other littlefellow carried him upon his back; but growing tired himself, he badeJohnnie sit down upon a fallen log, (the log on which he was found, ) andnot stir from the place until he came back. He told the child that hewould run on until he found a house, and would return as soon as hecould, and bring him something to eat. He then wiped his eyes, and toldhim not to cry, and not to be scared, for God would take care of himtill he came back, and he kissed him several times, and ran away. 

"This is all the little fellow knows about his brother; and it is veryprobable that the generous-hearted boy has been eaten by the wolves thatare very plenty in that part of the forest where the child was found. The Indians traced him for more than a mile along the banks of thecreek, when they lost his trail altogether. If he had fallen into thewater, it is so shallow, that they could scarcely have failed indiscovering the body; but they think that he has been dragged into somehole in the bank among the tangled cedars, and devoured. 

"Since I have been in the country, " continued Mrs. H---, "I have knownmany cases of children, and even of grown persons, being lost in thewoods, who were never heard of again. It is a frightful calamity tohappen to any one; for should they escape from the claws of wildanimals, these dense forests contain nothing on which life can besupported for any length of time. The very boughs of the trees areplaced so far from the ground, that no child could reach or climb tothem; and there is so little brush and small bushes among these gianttrees, that no sort of fruit can be obtained, on which they mightsubsist while it remained in season. It is only in clearings, or wherethe fire has run through the forest, that strawberries or raspberriesare to be found; and at this season of the year, and in the winter, astrong man could not exist many days in the wilderness let alone achild. 

"Parents cannot be too careful in guarding their young folks againstrambling alone in the bush. Persons, when once they get off the beatentrack, get frightened and bewildered, and lose all presence of mind; andinstead of remaining where they are when they first discover theirmisfortune--which is the only chance they have of being found--theyplunge desperately on, running hither and thither, in the hope ofgetting out, while they only involve themselves more deeply among themazes of the interminable forest. 

"Some winters ago, the daughter of a settler in the remote township ofDummer (where my husband took up his grant of wild land, and in which welived for two years) went with her father to the mill, which was fourmiles from their log-shanty, and the road lay entirely through the bush. For awhile the girl, who was about twelve years of age, kept up with herfather, who walked briskly ahead with his bag of corn on his back; foras their path lay through a tangled swamp, he was anxious to get homebefore night. After some time, Sarah grew tired with stepping up anddown over the fallen logs that strewed their path, and lagged a long waybehind. The man felt not the least apprehensive when he lost sight ofher, expecting that she would soon come up with him again. Once or twicehe stopped and shouted, and she answered, 'Coming, father!' and he didnot turn to look after her again. He reached the mill, saw the gristground, resumed his burden, and took the road home, expecting to meetSarah by the way. He trod the long path alone; but still he thoughtthat the girl, tired with her walk in the woods, had turned back, andhe should find her safe at home. 

"You may imagine, Mrs. M---, his consternation, and that of the family, when they found that the girl was lost. 

"It was now dark, and all search for her was given up for that nightas hopeless. By day-break the next morning the whole settlement whichwas then confined to a few lonely log tenements, inhabited solely byCornish miners, were roused from their sleep to assist in the search. 

"The men turned out with guns and horns, and divided into parties, thatstarted in different directions. Those who first discovered Sarah wereto fire their guns, which was to be the signal to guide the rest to thespot. It was not long before they found the object of their search, seated under a tree about half a mile from the path she had lost on thepreceding day. 

"She had been tempted by the beauty of some wild flowers to leave theroad; and, when once in the forest, she grew bewildered, and could notfind her way back. At first she ran to and fro, in an agony of terrorat finding herself in the woods all alone, and uttered loud and franticcries; but her father had by this time reached the mill, and was out ofhearing. 

"With a sagacity beyond her years, and not very common to her class, instead of wandering further into the labyrinth which surrounded her, she sat down under a large tree, covered her face with her apron, saidthe Lord's prayer--the only one she knew, and hoped that God would sendher father back to find her the moment he discovered that she was lost. 

"When night came down upon the forest, (and oh! how dark night is in thewoods!) the poor girl said that she felt horribly afraid of being eatenby the wolves that abound in those dreary swamps; but she did not cry, for fear they should hear her. Simple girl! she did not know that thescent of a wolf is far keener than his ear; but this was her notion, andshe lay down close to the ground and never once uncovered her head, forfear of seeing something dreadful standing beside her; until, overcomeby terror and fatigue, she fell fast asleep, and did not awake tillroused by the shrill braying of the horns, and the shouts of the partywho were seeking her. "

"What a dreadful situation! I am sure that I should not have had thecourage of this poor girl, but should have died with fear. "

"We don't know how much we can bear till we are tried. This girl wasmore fortunate than a boy of the same age, who was lost in the sametownship just as the winter set in. The lad was sent by his father, anEnglish settler, in company with two boys of his own age, the sons ofneighbours, to be measured for a pair of shoes. George Desne, whofollowed the double occupation of farmer and shoemaker, lived aboutthree miles from the clearing known as the English line. After the ladsleft their home, the road lay entirely through the bush. It was a paththey had often travelled, both alone and with their parents, and theyfelt no fear. 

"There had been a slight fall of snow, just enough to cover the ground, and the day was clear and frosty. The boys in this country always hailwith delight the first fall of snow; and they ran races and slid overall the shallow pools, until they reached George Desne's cabin. Hemeasured young Brown for a strong pair of winter boots, and the boysreturned on their homeward path, shouting and laughing in the glee oftheir hearts. 

"About half-way they suddenly missed their companion, and ran backnearly a mile to find him; not succeeding, they thought that he hadhidden himself behind some of the trees, and, in order to frighten them, was pretending to be lost; and after shouting his name at the top oftheir voices, and receiving no answer, they determined to defeat histrick, and ran home without him. They knew he was well acquainted withthe road, that it was still broad day, and he could easily find his wayhome alone. When his father inquired for George, they said he wascoming, and went to their respective cabins. 

"Night came on and the lad did not return, and his parents began to feelalarmed at his absence. Mr. Brown went over to the neighbouringsettlements, and made the lads repeat to him all they knew about hisson. The boys described the part of the road where they first missedhim; but they had felt no uneasiness about him, for they concluded thathe had either run home before them, or had gone back to spend the nightwith the young Desnes, who had been very importunate for him to stay. This account pacified the anxious father. Early the next morning he wentto Desne's himself to bring home the boy, but, to his astonishment andgrief, he had not been there. 

"His mysterious disappearance gave rise to a thousand strange surmises. The whole settlement turned out in search of the boy. His steps weretraced off the road a few yards into the bush, and entirely disappearedat the foot of a large oak tree. The tree was lofty, and the branches sofar from the ground, that it was almost impossible for any boy, unassisted, to have raised himself to such a height. There was no trackof any animal to be seen on the new fallen snow--no shred of garment, orstain of blood. That boy's fate will always remain a great mystery, forhe was never found. "

"He must have been carried up the tree by a bear, and dragged down intothe hollow trunk, " said I. 

"If that had been the case, there would have been the track of thebear's feet in the snow. It does not, however, follow that the boy isdead, though it is more than probable. I knew of a case where two boysand a girl were sent into the woods by their mother to fetch home thecows. The children were lost. The parents mourned them for dead, for allsearch after them proved fruitless. At length, after seven years, theeldest son returned. The children had been overtaken and carried off bya party of Indians, who belonged to a tribe who inhabited the islands inLake Huron, and who were out on a hunting expedition. They took themmany hundred miles away from their forest home, and adopted them astheir own. The girl, when she grew up, married one of the tribe; theboys followed the occupation of hunters and fishers, and, from theirdress and appearance, might have passed for aborigines of the forest. The eldest boy, however, never forgot his own name, or the manner inwhich he had been separated from his parents. He distinctly rememberedthe township and the natural features of the locality, and took thefirst opportunity of making his escape, and travelling back to the homeof his childhood. 

"When he made himself known to his mother, who was a widow, but residedon the same spot, he was so dark and Indian-like that she could notbelieve that it was really her son, until he brought back to her mind alittle incident that, forgotten by her, had never left his memory. 

"'Mother, don't you remember saying to me on that afternoon, Ned, youneed not look for the cows in the swamp, --they went off towards the bighill!'

"The delighted mother immediately caught him to her heart, exclaiming, 'You say truly, --you are my own, my long-lost son!'"

[This, and the two preceding chapters, were written for "Roughing itin the Bush, " and were sent to England to make a part of that work, butcame too late for insertion, which will account to the reader for theirappearance here. ]

The Canadian Herd-Boy. 

 "Through the deep woods, at peep of day, The careless herd-boy wends his way, By piny ridge and forest stream, To summon home his roving team-- Cobos! cobos! from distant dell Shy echo wafts the cattle-bell. 

 "A blithe reply he whistles back, And follows out the devious track, O'er fallen tree and mossy stone-- A path to all, save him, unknown. Cobos! cobos! far down the dell More faintly falls the cattle-bell. 

 "See the dark swamp before him throws A tangled maze of cedar boughs; On all around deep silence broods, In nature's boundless solitudes. Cobos! cobos! the breezes swell, As nearer floats the cattle-bell. 

 "He sees them now--beneath yon trees His motley herd recline at ease; With lazy pace and sullen stare, They slowly leave their shady lair. Cobos! cobos!--far up the dell Quick jingling comes the cattle-bell!"

CHAPTER XIV

Toronto

 "Fiction, however wild and fanciful, Is but the copy memory draws from truth. 'Tis not in human genius to _create_: The mind is but a mirror that reflects Realities that are, or the dim shadows Left by the past upon its placid surface Recalled again to life. "

The glow of early day was brightening in the east, as the steamerapproached Toronto. We rounded the point of the interminable, flat, swampy island, that stretches for several miles in front of the city, and which is thinly covered with scrubby-looking trees. The landlies so level with the water, that it has the appearance of beinghalf-submerged, and from a distance you only see the tops of the trees. I have been informed that the name of Toronto has been derived from thiscircumstance, which in Indian literally means, "Trees in the water. "

If the island rather takes from, than adds to, the beauty of the place, it is not without great practical advantages, as to it the city ismainly indebted for its sheltered and very commodious harbour. 

After entering the harbour, Toronto presents a long line of frontage, covered with handsome buildings, to the eye. A grey mist still hoveredover its many domes and spires; but the new University and the LunaticAsylum stood out in bold relief, as they caught the broad red gleam ofthe coming day. 

It was my first visit to the metropolitan city of the upper province, and with no small degree of interest I examined its general aspect as weapproached the wharf. It does not present such an imposing appearancefrom the water as Kingston, but it strikes you instantly as a place offar greater magnitude and importance. There is a fresh, growing, healthyvitality about this place, that cannot fail to impress a stranger veryforcibly the first time he enters it. He feels instinctively that hesees before him the strong throbbing heart of this gigantic youngcountry, and that every powerful vibration from this ever increasingcentre of wealth and civilisation, infuses life and vigour through thewhole length and breadth of the province. 

Toronto exceeded the most sanguine expectations that I had formed of itat a distance, and enabled me to realize distinctly the rising greatnessand rapid improvement of the colony. It is only here that you can formany just estimate of what she now is, and what at no very distant periodshe must be. 

The country, for some miles round the city, appears to the eye as flatas a floor; the rise, though very gradual, is, I am told, considerable;and the land is sufficiently elevated above the lake to escape thedisagreeable character of being low and swampy. Anything in the shape ofa slope or hill is not distinguishable in the present area on whichToronto is built; but the streets are wide and clean, and contain manyhandsome public buildings; and the beautiful trees which everywhereabound in the neat, well-kept gardens, that surround the dwellings ofthe wealthier inhabitants, with the broad, bright, blue inland seathat forms the foreground to the picture, give to it such a lively andagreeable character, that it takes from it all appearance of tamenessand monotony. 

The wharfs, with which our first practical acquaintance with the citycommenced, are very narrow and incommodious. They are built on pilesof wood, running out to some distance in the water, and covered withrotten, black-looking boards. As far as comfort and convenience go, theyare far inferior to those of Cobourg and Kingston, or even to those ofour own dear little "City of the Bay, " as Belleville has not inaptlybeen christened by the strange madcap, calling himself the "Great Oratorof the West. "

It is devoutly to be hoped that a few years will sweep all these decayedold wharfs into the Ontario, and that more substantial ones, built ofstone, will be erected in their place. Rome, however, was not builtin a day; and the magic growth of this city of the West is almost asmiraculous as that of Jonah's celebrated gourd. 

The steamboat had scarcely been secured to her wharf before we weresurrounded by a host of cabmen, who rushed on board, fighting andsquabbling with each other, in order to secure the first chance ofpassengers and their luggage. The hubbub in front of the ladies' cabingrew to a perfect uproar; and, as most of the gentlemen were stillin the arms of Morpheus, these noisy Mercuries had it all their ownway--swearing and shouting at the top of their voices, in a mannerthat rivalled civilized Europe. I was perfectly astonished at theirvolubility, and the pertinacity of their attentions, which werepoured forth in the true Milesian fashion--an odd mixture of blarney, self-interest, and audacity. At Kingston these gentry are far morecivil and less importunate, and we witnessed none of this disgracefulannoyance at any other port on the lake. One of these Paddies, in hishurry to secure the persons and luggage of several ladies, who had beenmy fellow-passengers in the cabin, nearly backed his crazy old vehicleover the unguarded wooden wharf into the lake. 

We got safely stowed at last into one of these machines, which, internally, are not destitute of either comfort or convenience; anddriving through some of the principal avenues of the city, were safelydeposited at the door of a dear friend, who had come on board to conductus to his hospitable home; and here I found the rest and quiet so muchneeded by an invalid after a long and fatiguing journey. 

It was some days before I was sufficiently recovered to visit any ofthe lions of the place. With a minute description of these I shallnot trouble my readers. My book is written more with a view to conveygeneral impressions, than to delineate separate features, --to while awaythe languid heat of a summer day, or the dreary dulness of a wet one. The intending emigrant, who is anxious for commercial calculations andstatistical details, will find all that he can require on this head in"Scobie's Almanack, " and Smith's "Past, Present, and Future ofCanada, "--works written expressly for that purpose. 

Women make good use of their eyes and ears, and paint scenes that amuseor strike their fancy with tolerable accuracy; but it requires thestrong-thinking heart of man to anticipate events, and trace certainresults from particular causes. Women are out of their element when theyattempt to speculate upon these abstruse matters--are apt to incline toostrongly to their own opinions--and jump at conclusions which are eitherfalse or unsatisfactory. 

My first visit was to King-street, which may be considered as theRegent-street of Toronto. It is the great central avenue of commerce, and contains many fine buildings, and handsome capacious stores, whilea number of new ones are in a state of progress. This fine, broad, airythoroughfare, would be an ornament to any town or city, and the bustleand traffic through it give to strangers a tolerably just idea of thewealth and industry of the community. All the streets terminate at thewater's edge, but Front-street, which runs parallel with it, and may betermed the "west end" of Toronto; for most of the wealthy residents havehandsome houses and gardens in this street, which is open through thewhole length of it to the lake. The rail-road is upon the edge of thewater along this natural terrace. The situation is uncommonly lively, as it commands a fine view of the harbour, and vessels and steamboatsare passing to and fro continually. 

The St. Lawrence market, which is near the bottom of King-street, isa handsome, commodious building, and capitally supplied with all thecreature-comforts--fish, flesh, and fowl--besides abundance of excellentfruits and vegetables, which can be procured at very reasonable prices. The town-hall is over the market-place, and I am told--for I did notvisit it--that it is a noble room, capable of accommodating a largenumber of people with ease and comfort. 

Toronto is very rich in handsome churches, which form one of its chiefattractions. I was greatly struck with the elegant spire of Knox'schurch, which is perhaps the most graceful in the city. The body of thechurch, however, seems rather too short, and out of proportion, for thetall slender tower, which would have appeared to much greater advantageattached to a building double the length. 

Nothing attracted my attention, or interested me more, than thehandsome, well-supplied book stores. Those of Armour, Scobie, andMaclean, are equal to many in London in appearance, and far superior tothose that were to be found in Norwich and Ipswich thirty years ago. 

This speaks well for the mental improvement of Canada, and is a proofthat people have more leisure for acquiring book lore, and more moneyfor the purchase of books, than they had some years ago. The piraciesof the Americans have realized the old proverb, "That 'tis an ill windthat blows nobody any good. " Incalculable are the benefits that Canadaderives from her cheap reprints of all the European standard works, which, on good paper and in handsome bindings, can be bought at aquarter the price of the English editions. This circumstance must alwaysmake the Canadas a bad market for English publications. Most of these, it is true, can be procured by wealthy individuals at the book storesmentioned above, but the American reprints of the same works abound ahundred-fold. 

Novels form the most attractive species of reading here for the young;and the best of these, in pamphlet form, may be procured for fromtwenty-five to fifty cents. And here I must claim the privilege ofspeaking a few words in defence of both novel readers and novel writers, in spite of the horror which I fancy I see depicted on many a gravecountenance. 

There are many good and conscientious persons who regard novels andnovel writers with devout horror, who condemn their works, howevermoral in their tendency, as unfit for the perusal of responsible andintelligent creatures, who will not admit into their libraries any booksbut such as treat of religious, historical, or scientific subjects, imagining, and we think very erroneously, that all works of fiction havea demoralizing effect, and tend to weaken the judgment, and enervate themind. 

We will, however, allow that there is both truth and sound sense in someof these objections; that if a young person's reading is entirelyconfined to this class of literature, and that of an inferior sort, agreat deal of harm may be the result, as many of these works are apt toconvey to them false and exaggerated pictures of life. Such a course ofreading would produce the same effect upon the mind as a constant dietof sweetmeats would upon the stomach; it would destroy the digestion, and induce a loathing for more wholesome food. 

Still, the mind requires recreation as well as the body, and cannotalways be engaged upon serious studies without injury to the brain, andthe disarrangement of some of the most important organs of the body. Now, we think it could be satisfactorily proved, in spite of the sterncrusade perpetually waged against works of fiction by a large portion ofwell-meaning people, that much good has been done in the world throughtheir instrumentality. 

Most novels and romances, particularly those of the modern school, arefounded upon real incidents, and, like the best heads in the artist'spicture, the characters are drawn from life; and the closer the drawingor story approximates to nature, the more interesting and popular willit become. Though a vast number of these works are daily pouring fromthe British and American press, it is only those of a very high classthat are generally read, and become as familiar as household words. Thetastes of individuals differ widely on articles of dress, food, andamusement; but there is a wonderful affinity in the minds of men, asregards works of literature. A book that appeals strongly to thepassions, if true to nature, will strike nearly all alike, and obtaina world-wide popularity, while the mere fiction sinks back intoobscurity--is once read and forgotten. 

The works of Smollett and Fielding were admirable pictures of society asit existed in their day; but we live in a more refined age, and fewyoung people would feel any pleasure in the coarse pictures exhibited inthose once celebrated works. The novels of Richardson, recommended bygrave divines from the pulpit as perfect models of purity and virtue, would now be cast aside with indifference and disgust. They wereconsidered quite the reverse in the age he wrote, and he was regarded asone of the great reformers of the vices of his time. We may thereforeconclude, that, although repugnant to our taste and feelings, they werethe means of effecting much good in a gross and licentious age. 

In the writings of our great modern novelists, virtue is never debased, nor vice exalted; but there is a constant endeavour to impress upon themind of the reader the true wisdom of the one, and the folly of theother; and where the author fails to create an interest in the fateof his hero or heroine, it is not because they are bad or immoralcharacters, like Lovelace in Clarissa Harlowe, and Lord B--- in Pamela, but that, like Sir Charles Grandison, they are too good for reality, and their very faultlessness renders them, like the said Sir Charles, affected and unnatural. Where high moral excellence is represented asstruggling with the faults and follies common to humanity, sometimesyielding to temptation, and reaping the bitter fruits, and at othertimes successfully resisting the allurements of vice, all our sympathiesare engaged in the contest; it becomes our own, and we follow the herothrough all his trials, weep over his fall, or triumph in his success. 

Children, who possess an unsophisticated judgment in these matters, seldom feel much interest in the model boy of a moral story; not fromany innate depravity of mind, which leads them to prefer vice to virtue, for no such preference can exist in the human breast, --no, not even inthe perverted hearts of the worst of men--but because the model boy islike no other boy of their acquaintance. He does not resemble them, forhe is a piece of unnatural perfection. He neither fights, nor cries, norwishes to play when he ought to be busy with his lessons; he lectureslike a parson, and talks like a book. His face is never dirty; henever tears his clothes, nor soils his hands with making dirt pies, orpuddling in the mud. His hair is always smooth, his face always wearsa smile, and he was never known to sulk, or say _I won't!_ The boy isa perfect stranger--they can't recognise his likeness, or follow hisexample--and why? because both are unnatural caricatures. 

But be sure, that if the naughty boy of the said tale creates the mostinterest for his fate in the mind of the youthful reader, it is simplybecause he is drawn with more truthfulness than the character thatwas intended for his counterpart. The language of passion is alwayseloquent, and the bad boy is delineated true to his bad nature, and ismade to speak and act naturally, which never fails to awaken a touch ofsympathy in beings equally prone to err. I again repeat that few minds(if any) exist than can find beauty in deformity, or aught to admire inthe hideousness of vice. 

There are many persons in the world who cannot bear to receiveinstruction when conveyed to them in a serious form, who shrink withloathing from the cant with which too many religious novels are loaded;and who yet might be induced to listen to precepts of religion andmorality, when arrayed in a more amusing and attractive garb, andenforced by characters who speak and feel like themselves, and sharein all things a common humanity. 

Some of our admirable modern works of fiction, or rather truthsdisguised, in order to make them more palatable to the generality ofreaders, have done more to ameliorate the sorrows of mankind, by drawingthe attention of the public to the wants and woes of the lower classes, than all the charity sermons that have been delivered from the pulpit. 

Yes, the despised and reprobated novelist, by daring to unveil thecrimes and miseries of neglected and ignorant men, and to point out theabuses which have produced, and are still producing, the same dreadfulresults, are missionaries in the cause of humanity, the real friends andbenefactors of mankind. 

The selfish worldling may denounce as infamous and immoral, theheart-rending pictures of human suffering and degradation that thewritings of Dickens and Sue have presented to their gaze, and declarethat they are unfit to meet the eyes of the virtuous and refined--thatno good can arise from the publication of such revolting details--andthat to be ignorant of the existence of such horrors is in itself aspecies of virtue. 

Daughter of wealth, daintily nurtured, and nicely educated, _Isblindness nature?_ Does your superiority over these fallen creaturesspring from any innate principle in your own breast, which renders youmore worthy of the admiration and esteem of your fellow-creatures? Arenot you indebted to the circumstances in which you are placed, and tothat moral education, for every virtue that you possess?

You can feel no pity for the murderer, the thief, the prostitute. Suchpeople may aptly be termed the wild beasts of society, and, like wildbeasts, should be hunted down and killed, in order to secure thepeace and comfort of the rest. Well, the law has been doing this formany ages, and yet the wild beasts still exist and prey upon theirneighbours. And such will still continue to be the case untilChristianity, following the example of her blessed Founder, goes forthinto the wilderness of life on her errand of mercy, not to condemn, but to seek and to save that which is lost. 

The conventional rules of society have formed a hedge about you, whichrenders any flagrant breach of morality very difficult, --in some casesalmost impossible. From infancy the dread commandments have beensounding in your ears, --"Thou shalt not kill! Thou shalt not steal! Thoushalt not commit adultery!"--and the awful mandate has been strengthenedby the admonitions of pious parents and good ministers, all anxious foryour eternal welfare. You may well be honest; for all your wants havebeen supplied, and you have yet to learn that where no temptationexists, virtue itself becomes a negative quality. You do not covet thegoods which others possess. You have never looked down, with confusionof face and heartfelt bitterness, on the dirty rags that scarcelysuffice to conceal the emaciation of your wasted limbs. You have neverfelt hunger gnawing at your vitals, or shuddered at the cries offamishing children, sobbing around your knees for bread. You havedainties to satiety every day, and know nothing of the agonies ofsacrificing your virtue for the sake of a meal. If you are cold, youhave a good fire to warm you, a comfortable mansion to protect you fromthe inclemency of the weather, and garments suitable to every seasonof the year. How can you be expected to sympathize with the ragged, houseless children of want and infamy!

You cannot bear to have these sad realities presented to your notice. Itshocks your nerves. You cannot bring yourself to admit that theseoutcasts of society are composed of the same clay; and you blame theauthors who have dared to run a tilt against your prejudices, and havenot only attested the unwelcome fact, but have pointed out the causeswhich lead to the hopeless degradation and depravity of these miserablefellow-creatures. You cannot read the works of these humane men, becausethey bid you to step with them into these dirty abodes of guilt andwretchedness, and see what crime really is, and all the horrors thatignorance and poverty, and a want of self-respect, never fail to bringabout. You cannot enter into these abodes of your neglected and starvingbrothers and sisters--these forlorn scions of a common stock--andview their cold hearths and unfurnished tables, their beds of strawand tattered garments, without defilement--or witness their days ofunremitting toil, and nights of unrest; and worse, far worse, to beholdthe evil passions and crimes which spring from a state of ignorance, producing a moral darkness that can be felt. 

You are insulted and offended at being seen in such bad company; andcannot for a moment, imagine that a change in your relative positionsmight have rendered you no wiser or better than them. But, let me askyou candidly, has not the terrible scene produced some effect? Can youforget its existence, --its shocking reality? The lesson it teaches maybe distasteful, but you cannot shake off a knowledge of its melancholyfacts. The voice of conscience speaks audibly to your heart; that stillsmall voice--that awful record of himself that God has placed inevery breast (and woe be to you, or any one, when it ceases to beheard!)--tells you that you cannot, without violating the divinemandate, "love thy neighbour as thyself, " leave these miserablecreatures to languish and die, without making one effort to aid inrescuing them from their melancholy fate. 

"But what can I do?" I hear you indignantly exclaim. 

Much; oh, how much! You have wealth, a small part of which cannot bebetter bestowed than in educating these poor creatures; in teaching themto recognise those divine laws which they have broken; in leading themstep by step into those paths of piety and peace they have never known. Ignorance has been the most powerful agent in corrupting these perishingcriminals. Give them healthful employment, the means of emigrating tocountries where labour is amply remunerated, and will secure for themcomfort, independence, and self-respect. In Canada, these victims ofover-population prove beneficial members of society, while with you theyare regarded as a blight and a curse. 

Numbers of this class are yearly cast upon these shores, yet the crimeswhich are commonly committed by their instrumentality in Britain, veryrarely occur with us. We could not sleep with unfastened doors andwindows near populous towns, if the change in their condition did notbring about a greater moral change in the character of these pooremigrants. 

They readily gain employment; their toils are amply remunerated; andthey cease to commit crime to procure a precarious existence. In thevery worst of these people some good exists. A few seeds remain ofdivine planting, which, if fostered and judiciously trained, might yetbear fruit for heaven. 

The authors, whose works you call disgusting and immoral, point outthis, and afford you the most pathetic illustrations of its truth. Youneed not fear contamination from the vices which they portray. Theirdepravity is of too black a hue to have the least attraction, even tobeings only removed a few degrees from the same guilt. Vice may haveher admirers when she glitters in gold and scarlet; but when exposed infilth and nakedness, her most reckless devotees shrink back from her indisgust and horror. Vice, without her mask, is a spectacle too appallingfor humanity; it exhibits the hideousness, and breathes of thecorruption of hell. 

If these reprobated works of fiction can startle the rich into a painfulconsciousness of the wants and agonies of the poor, and make them, inspite of all the conventional laws of society, acknowledge their kindredhumanity, who shall say that their books have been written in vain?

For my own part, I look upon these authors as heaven-inspired teachers, who have been commissioned by the great Father of souls to proclaimto the world the wrongs and sufferings of millions of his creatures;to plead their cause with unflinching integrity, and, with almostsuperhuman eloquence, demand for them the justice which the world has solong denied. These men are the benefactors of their species, to whom thewhole human race owe a vast debt of gratitude. 

Since the publication of Oliver Twist, and many other works of the sameclass, inquiries have been made by thinking and benevolent individualsinto the condition of the destitute poor in great cities andmanufacturing districts. These works brought to light deeds of darkness, and scenes of oppression and cruelty, scarcely to be credited in moderntimes and in Christian communities. The attention of the public wasdirected towards this miserable class of beings, and its best sympathiesenlisted in their behalf. It was called upon to assist in the liberationof these white slaves, chained to the oar for life in the galleys ofwealth, and to recognize them as men and brethren. 

Then sprang up the ragged schools, --the institutions for reclaiming theyouthful vagrants of London, and teaching the idle and profligate thesublime morality of sobriety and industry. 

Persons who were unable to contribute money to these truly noble objectsof charity, were ready to assist in the capacity of Sunday-schoolteachers, and add their mite in the great work of moral reform. Inover-peopled countries like England and France, the evils arising out ofextreme poverty could not be easily remedied; yet the help thus affordedby the rich, contributed greatly in ameliorating the distress ofthousands of the poorer classes. To the same source we may trace themitigation of many severe laws. The punishment of death is no longerenforced, but in cases of great depravity. Mercy has stepped in, andwiped the blood from the sword of justice. 

Hood's "Song of the Shirt" produced an almost electric effect upon thepublic mind. It was a bold, truthful appeal to the best feelings ofhumanity, and it found a response in every feeling heart. It laid barethe distress of a most deserving and oppressed portion of the femaleoperatives of London; and the good it did is at this moment in activeoperation. Witness the hundreds of work-women landed within the lasttwelve months on these shores, who immediately found liberal employment. 

God's blessing upon thee, Thomas Hood! The effect produced by that workof divine charity of thine, will be felt long after thou and thyheart-searching appeal have vanished into the oblivion of the past. Butwhat matters it to thee if the song is forgotten by coming generations?It performed its mission of mercy on earth, and has opened for thee thegates of heaven. 

Such a work of fiction as "The Caxtons" refreshes and invigorates themind by its perusal; and virtue becomes beautiful for its own sake. Youlove the gentle humanity of the single-hearted philosopher, the charmingsimplicity of his loving helpmate, and scarcely know which to admirethe most--Catherine in her conjugal or maternal character--the noblebut mistaken pride of the fine old veteran Roland, the real hero of thetale--or the excellent young man, his nephew, who reclaims the fallenson, and is not too perfect to be unnatural. As many fine moral lessonscan be learned from this novel, as from most works written expressly forthe instruction and improvement of mankind; and they lose nothing by thebeautiful and attractive garb in which they are presented to the reader. 

Our blessed Lord himself did not disdain the usc of allegory, which istruth conveyed to the hearer under a symbolical form. His admirableparables, each of which told a little history, were the most popularmethods that could be adopted to instruct the lower classes, who, chiefly uneducated, require the illustration of a subject in order tounderstand it. 

Aesop, in his inimitable fables, pourtrayed through his animals thevarious passions and vices of men, admirably adapting them to thecharacters he meant to satirize, and the abuses he endeavoured throughthis medium to reform. These beautiful fictions have done much to throwdisgrace upon roguery, selfishness, cruelty, avarice and injustice, and to exalt patience, fidelity, mercy, and generosity, even amongChristians who were blessed with a higher moral code than that enjoyedby the wise pagan; and they will continue to be read and admired as longas the art of printing exists to render them immortal. 

Every good work of fiction is a step towards the mental improvement ofmankind, and to every such writer, we say God speed!

The Earthquake. 

 "Hark! heard ye not a sound?" "Aye, 'tis the sullen roar Of billows breaking on the shore. " "Hush!--'tis beneath the ground, That hollow rending shock, Makes the tall mountains rock, -- The solid earth doth like a drunkard reel; Pale nature holds her breath, Her tribes are mute as death. In silent dread the coming doom they feel. "

 "Ah, God have mercy!--hark! those dismal cries-- Man knows his danger now, And veils in dust his brow. Beneath, the yawning earth--above, the lurid skies! Mortal, behold the toil and boast of years In one brief moment to oblivion hurled. So shall it be, when this vain guilty world Of woe, and sad necessity and tears, Sinks at the awful mandate of its Lord, As erst it rose to being at his word. "

CHAPTER XV

Lunatic Asylum

 "Alas! poor maniac; For thee no hope can dawn--no tender tie Wake in thy blighted heart a thrill of joy; The immortal mind is levelled with the dust, Ere the tenacious chords of life give way!" S. M. 

Our next visit was to the Lunatic Asylum. The building is of whitebrick, --a material not very common in Canada, but used largely inToronto, where stone has to be brought from a considerable distance, there being no quarries in the neighbourhood. Brick has not thesubstantial, august appearance that stone gives to a large building, and it is more liable to injury from the severe frosts of winter inthis climate, The asylum is a spacious edifice, surrounded by extensivegrounds for the cultivation of fruits and vegetables. These areprincipally worked by the male patients, who are in a state ofconvalescence, while it affords them ample room for air and exercise. 

A large gang of these unfortunates were taking their daily promenade, when our cab stopped at the entrance gate. They gazed upon us with aneager air of childish curiosity, as we alighted from our conveyance, andentered the building. 

We were received very politely by one of the gentlemen belonging to theestablishment, who proceeded to show us over the place. 

Ascending a broad flight of steps, as clean as it was possible for humanhands to make them, we came to a long wide gallery, separated at eitherend by large folding-doors, the upper part of which were of glass; thoseto the right opening into the ward set apart for male patients, who wereso far harmless that they were allowed the free use of their limbs, and could be spoken to without any danger to the visitors. The femalelunatics inhabited the ward to the left, and to these we first directedour attention. 

The long hall into which their work-rooms and sleeping apartments openedwas lofty, well lighted, well aired, and exquisitely clean; so were thepersons of the women, who were walking to and fro, laughing and chattingvery sociably together. Others were sewing and quilting in rooms setapart for that purpose. There was no appearance of wretchedness ormisery in this ward; nothing that associated with it the terrible ideaof madness I had been wont to entertain--for these poor creatures lookedhealthy and cheerful, nay, almost happy, as if they had given the worldand all its cares the go-by. There was one thin, eccentric looking womanin middle life, who came forward to receive us with an air of greatdignity; she gave us her hand in a most condescending manner, and smiledmost graciously when the gentleman who was with us inquired after her_majesty's_ health. She fancies herself Victoria, and in order to humourher conceit, she is allowed to wear a cap of many colours, with tinselornaments. This person, who is from the lowest class, certainly enjoysher imaginary dignity in a much greater degree than any crowned monarch, and is perhaps far prouder of her fool's cap than our gracious sovereignis of her imperial diadem. 

The madwomen round her appeared to consider her assumption of royalty asa very good joke, for the homage they rendered her was quizzical in theextreme. 

There are times when these people seem to have a vague consciousness oftheir situation; when gleams of sense break in upon them, and whisperthe awful truth to their minds. Such moments must form the drops ofbitterness in the poisoned cup of life, which a mysterious Providencehas presented to their lips. While I was looking sadly from face toface, as these benighted creatures flitted round me, a tall stout womanexclaimed in a loud voice--

"That's Mrs. M---, of Belleville! God bless her! Many a good quarterdollar I've got from her;" and, running up to me, she flung her armsabout my neck, and kissed me most vehemently. 

I did not at first recognise her; and, though I submitted with a goodgrace to the mad hug she gave me, I am afraid that I trembled not alittle in her grasp. She was the wife of a cooper, who lived opposite tous during the first two years we resided in Belleville; and I used tobuy from her all the milk I needed for the children. 

She was always a strange eccentric creature when sane--if, indeed, sheever had enjoyed the right use of her senses; and, in spite of thejoy she manifested at the unexpected sight of me, I remember her oncethreatening to break my head with an old hoop, when I endeavoured tosave her little girl from a frightful flagellation from the sameinstrument. 

I had stepped across the street to her husband's workshop, to order anew meat barrel. I found him putting a barrel together, assisted by afine little girl of ten years of age, who embraced the staves with herthin supple arms, while the father slipped one of the hoops over themin order to secure them in their place. It was a pretty picture; thesmiling rosy face of the girl looking down upon her father, as hestooped over the barrel adjusting the hoop, his white curling hairfalling over her slender arms. Just then the door was flung open, andMrs. --- rushed in like a fury. 

"Katrine, where are you?"

"Here, mother, " said the child, very quietly. 

How dar'd you to leave the cradle widout my lave?"

"Father called me, " and the child turned pale, and began to tremble. "I came for a moment to help him. "

"You little wretch!" cried the unjust woman, seizing the child by thearm. "I'll teach you to mind him more nor you mind me. Take that, and_that_. "

Here followed an awful oath, and such a blow upon the bare neck of theunhappy child, that she left her hold of the barrel, and fairly shriekedwith pain. 

"Let the girl alone, Mary; it was my fault, " said the husband. 

"Yes, it always is your fault! but she shall pay for it;" and, taking upa broken hoop, she began to beat the child furiously. 

My woman's heart could stand it no longer. I ran forward, and threw myarms round the child. 

"Get out wid you!" she cried; "what business is it of yours? I'll breakyour head if you are not off out of this. "

"I'm not afraid of you, Mrs. ---; but I would not see you use a dog inthat manner, much less a child, who has done nothing to deserve suchtreatment. "

"Curse you all!" said the human fiend, flinging down her ugly weapon, and scowling upon us with her gloomy eyes. "I wish you were all in ---. "

A place far too warm for this hot season of the year, I thought, as Iwalked sorrowfully home. Bad as I then considered her, I have nowno doubt that it was the incipient workings of her direful malady, which certainly comes nearest to any idea we can form of demoniacalpossession. She is at present an incurable but harmless maniac; and, inspite of the instance of cruelty that I have just related towards herlittle girl, now, during the dark period of her mind's eclipse, gleamsof maternal love struggled like glimpses of sunshine through a stormycloud, and she inquired of me earnestly, pathetically, nay, eventenderly, for her children. Alas, poor maniac! How could I tell her thatthe girl she had chastised so undeservedly had died in early womanhood, and her son, a fine young man of twenty, had committed suicide, andflung himself off the bridge into the Moira river only a few monthsbefore. Her insanity saved her from the knowledge of events, which mighthave distracted a firmer brain. She seemed hardly satisfied with myevasive answers, and looked doubtingly and cunningly at me, as if somedemon had whispered to her the awful truth. 

It was singular that this woman should recognise me after so many years. Altered as my appearance was by time and sickness, my dearest friendswould hardly have known me, --yet she knew me at a single glance. Whatwas still more extraordinary, she remembered my daughter, now a wife andmother, whom she had not seen since she was a little girl. 

What a wonderful faculty is memory!--the most mysterious andinexplicable in the great riddle of life; that plastic tablet on whichthe Almighty registers with unerring fidelity the records of being, making it the depository of all our words, thoughts, and deeds--thisfaithful witness against us for good or evil; at the great assize thathereafter must determine our eternal fate, when conscience, at his dreadcommand, shall open up this book of life! "Keep thy heart, my son, forout of it are the issues of life. " Be sure that memory guards well thatsecret treasure. All that the heart ever felt, the mind ever thought, the restless spirit ever willed, is there. 

Another woman--wild, dark, and fierce-looking, with her hands inmufflers--flitted after us from room to room, her black, flashing eyesfixed intently on my daughter. "Yes, it is my own Mary! but she won'tspeak to me. "

The gentleman in attendance begged us to take no notice of this person, as she was apt to be very violent. 

Another stout, fair-haired matron, with good features and a verypleasant face, insisted on shaking hands with us all round. Judgingfrom her round, sonsy, rosy face, you never could have imagined her tohave been mad. When we spoke in admiration of the extreme neatness andcleanness of the large sleeping apartment, she said very quietly--

"Ah, you would not wonder at that could you see all the water-witches atnight cleaning it. " Then she turned to me, and whispered veryconfidentially in my ear, "Are you mad? You see these people; they areall mad--as mad as March hares. Don't come here if you can help it. It'sall very well at first, and it looks very clean and comfortable; butwhen the doors are once shut, you can't get out--no, not if you ask itupon your knees. " She then retreated, nodding significantly. 

Leaving this ward, we visited the one which contained the male lunatics. They appeared far more gloomy and reserved than the women we had left. One young man, who used to travel the country with jewellery, and whohad often been at our house, recognised us in a moment; but he did notcome forward like Mrs. --- to greet us, but ran into a corner, and, turning to the wall, covered his face with his hands until we had passedon. Here was at least a consciousness of his unfortunate situation, thatwas very painful to witness. A gentlemanly man in the prime of life, who had once practised the law in Toronto, and was a person of someconsequence, still retained the dress and manners belonging to hisclass. He had gone to the same school with my son-in-law, and he greetedhim in the most hearty and affectionate manner, throwing his arm abouthis shoulder, and talking of his affairs in the most confidentialmanner. His mental aberration was only displayed in a few harmlessremarks, such as telling us that this large house was his, that it hadbeen built with his money, and that it was very hard he was kept aprisoner in his own dwelling; that he was worth millions; and thatpeople were trying to cheat him of all his money, but that if once hecould get out, he would punish them all. He then directed my son-in-lawto bring up some law books that he named, on the morrow, and he wouldgive him a dozen suits against the parties from whom he had received somany injuries. 

In the balcony, at the far end of the gallery, we found a group of menwalking to and fro for the sake of air, or lounging listlessly onbenches, gazing, with vacant eyes, upon the fine prospect of wood andwater dressed in the gorgeous hues of an autumnal sunset. One veryintelligent-looking man, with a magnificent head, was busy writing upona dirty piece of paper with a pencil, his table furnished by his knee, and his desk the cover of his closed but well worn Bible. He rose as wedrew near him, and bowing politely, gave us a couple of poems which hedrew from his waistcoat pocket. 

"These were written some time ago, " he said; "One of them is much betterthan the other. There are some fine lines in that ode to Niagara--Icomposed them on the spot. "

On my observing the signature of _Delta_ affixed to theseproductions, he smiled, and said, with much complacency, "My name isDavid Moir. " This, upon inquiry, we found was really the case, and the mad poet considered that the coincidence gave him a right toenjoy the world-wide fame of his celebrated namesake. The poems which hegave us, and which are still in my possession, contain some lines ofgreat merit; but they are strangely unconnected, and very defective inrhyme and keeping. He watched our countenances intently while readingthem, continually stepping in, and pointing out to us his favouritepassages. We were going to return them, but he bade us keep them. "Hehad hundreds of copies of them, " he said, "in his head. " He then tookus on one side, and intreated us in the most pathetic manner to useour influence to get him out of that place. "He was, " he said, "a goodclassic scholar, and had been private tutor in several families of highrespectability, and he could shew us testimonials as to character andability. It is hard to keep me here idling, " he continued, "when my poorlittle boys want me so badly at home; poor fellows! and they have nomother to supply my place. " He sighed heavily, and drew his hand acrosshis brow, and looked sadly and dreamily into the blue distance ofOntario. The madman's thoughts were far away with his young sons, or, perhaps, had ranged back to the rugged heathery hills of his ownglorious mountain land!

There were two boys among these men who, in spite of their lunacy, hadan eye to business, and begged pathetically for coppers, though of whatuse they could be to them in that place I cannot imagine. I saw no girlsunder twelve years of age. There were several boys who appeared scarcelyin their teens. 

Mounting another flight of snowy stairs, we came to the wards abovethose we had just inspected. These were occupied by patients that werenot in a state to allow visitors a nearer inspection than observingthem through the glass doors. By standing upon a short flight of broadsteps that led down to their ward, we were able to do this with perfectsecurity. The hands of all these women were secured in mufflers; somewere dancing, others running to and fro at full speed, clapping theirhands, and laughing and shouting with the most boisterous merriment. Howdreadful is the laugh of madness! how sorrowful the expressions of theirdiabolical mirth! tears and lamentations would have been less shocking, for it would have seemed more natural. 

Among these raving maniacs I recognised the singular face of GraceMarks--no longer sad and despairing, but lighted up with the fire ofinsanity, and glowing with a hideous and fiend-like merriment. Onperceiving that strangers were observing her, she fled shrieking awaylike a phantom into one of the side rooms. It appears that even in thewildest bursts of her terrible malady, she is continually haunted bya memory of the past. Unhappy girl! when will the long horror of herpunishment and remorse be over? When will she sit at the feet of Jesus, clothed with the unsullied garments of his righteousness, the stain ofblood washed from her hand, and her soul redeemed, and pardoned, and inher right mind? It is fearful to look at her, and contemplate her fatein connexion with her crime. What a striking illustration does it affordof that awful text, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord!"

There was one woman in this ward, with raven hair and eyes, and asallow, unhealthy complexion, whom the sight of us transported into aparoxysm of ungovernable rage. She rushed to the door, and doubled herfists at us, and began cursing and swearing at a furious rate, and thenshe laughed--such a laugh as one might fancy Satan uttered when herecounted, in full conclave, his triumph over the credulity of our firstmother. Presently she grew outrageous, and had to be thrown to theground, and secured by two keepers; but to silence her was beyond theirart. She lay kicking and foaming, and uttering words too dreadful forhuman ears to listen to; and Grace Marks came out from her hiding-place, and performed a thousand mad gambols round her: and we turned from thepiteous scene, --and I, for one, fervently thanked God for my sanity, andinwardly repeated those exquisite lines of the peasant bard of my nativecounty:

 "Oh, Thou, who bidd'st the vernal juices rise, Thou on whose blast autumnal foliage flies; Let peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold, Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold. "

We cast but a cursory glance on the men who occupied the opposite ward. We had seen enough of madness, and the shrieks from the outrageouspatients above, whom strangers have seldom nerve enough to visit, quickened our steps as we hurried from the place. 

We looked into the large ball-room before we descended the stairs, wherethese poor creatures are allowed at stated times to meet for pleasureand amusement. But such a spectacle would be to me more revolting thanthe scene I had just witnessed; the delirium of their frightful diseasewould be less shocking in my eyes than the madness of their mirth. Thestruggling gleams of sense and memory in these unhappy people remindedme a beautiful passage in "Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy":

 "On all things created remaineth the half-effaced signature of God; Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption. "

What a sublime truth! How beautifully and forcibly expressed! With whata mournful dignity it invests our fallen nature! Sin has marred theDivine image in which we were made, but the soul in its intense longingafter God and good bears, in its sorrowful servitude to evil, theimpress of the hand that formed it happy and free. Yes, even in the mostabject and fallen, some slight trace of good remains--some spark of theDivine essence that still lingers amid the darkness and corruption ofguilt, to rekindle the dying embers, and restore them once more to lifeand liberty. The madman raving in his chains still remembers his God, tobless or blaspheme his name. We are astonished at his ecstatic dream ofhappiness, or shocked beyond measure at the blackness of his despair. His superhuman strength fills us with wonder; and, even in theextinction of reason, we acknowledge the eternal presence of God, andperceive flashes of his Spirit breaking through the dark material cloudthat shades, but cannot wholly annihilate the light of the soul, theimmortality within. 

The poor, senseless idiot, who appears to moral eyes a mere livingmachine, a body without a soul, sitting among the grass, and playingwith the flowers and pebbles in the vacancy of his mind, is still awonderful illustration of the wisdom and power of God. We behold a humanbeing inferior in instinct and intelligence of the meanest ordersof animal life, dependent upon the common charities of his kind forsubsistence, yet conscious of the friend who pities his helplessness, and of the hand that administers to his wants. The Spirit of his Makershall yet breathe upon the dull chaos of his stagnant brain, and openthe eyes of this blind of soul into the light of his own eternal day!What a lesson to the pride of man--to the vain dwellers in houses ofclay!

Returning from the asylum, we stopped to examine Trinity College, whichis on the opposite side of the road. The architect, K. Tully, Esq. , hasshown considerable taste and genius in the design of this edifice, which, like the asylum, is built of white brick, the corners, doors, andwindows faced with cut stone. It stands back from the road in a finepark-like lawn, surrounded by stately trees of nature's own planting. When the college is completed, it will be one of the finest publicbuildings in the province, and form one of the noblest ornaments to thispart of the city. 

The Maniac. 

 "The wind at my casement scream'd shrilly and loud, And the pale moon look'd in from her mantle of cloud; Old ocean was tossing in terrible might, And the black rolling billows were crested with light. Like a shadowy dream on my senses that hour, Stole the beautiful vision of grandeur and power; And the sorrows of life that brought tears to mine eye, Were forgot in the glories of ocean and sky. 

 "'Oh nature!' I cried, 'in thy beautiful face All the wisdom and love of thy Maker I trace; Thy aspect divine checks my tears as they start, And fond hopes long banish'd flow back to my heart!' Thus musing, I wander'd alone to the shore, To gaze on the waters, and list to their roar, When I saw a poor lost one bend over the steep Of the tall beetling cliff that juts out o'er the deep. 

 "The wind wav'd her garments, and April's rash showers Hung like gems in her dark locks, enwreath'd with wild flowers; Her bosom was bared to the cold midnight storm, That unsparingly beat on her thin fragile form; Her black eyes flash'd sternly whence reason had fled, And she glanc'd on my sight like some ghost of the dead, As she sang a loud strain to the hoarse dashing surge, That rang on my ears like the plaint of a dirge. 

 "And he who had left her to madness and shame, Who had robb'd her of honour, and blasted her fame-- Did he think in that hour of the heart he had riven, The vows he had broken, the anguish he'd given?-- And where was the infant whose birth gave the blow To the peace of his mother, and madden'd her woe? A thought rush'd across me--I ask'd for her child, -- With a wild laugh of triumph the maniac replied--

 "'Where the dark tide runs strongest, the cliff rises steep, Where the wild waters eddy, I've rock'd him to sleep: His sleep is so sound that the rush of the stream, When the winds are abroad, cannot waken his dream. And see you that rock, with its surf-beaten side, There the blood of my false love runs red with the tide; The sea-mew screams shrilly, the white breakers rave-- In the foam of the billow I'll dance o'er his grave!'

 "'Mid the roar of the tempest, the wind's hollow moan, There rose on my chill'd ear a faint dying groan; The billows raged on, the moon smiled on the flood, But vacant the spot where the maniac had stood. I turn'd from the scene--on my spirit there fell A question that sadden'd my heart like a knell; I look'd up to heav'n, but I breath'd not a word, For the answer was given--'Trust thou in the Lord!'"

CHAPTER XVI

Provincial Agricultural Show

 "A happy scene of rural mirth, Drawn from the teeming lap of earth, In which a nation's promise lies. Honour to him who wins a prize!-- A trophy won by honest toil, Far nobler than the victor's spoil. " S. M. 

Toronto was all bustle and excitement, preparing for the ProvincialAgricultural Show; no other subject was thought of or talked about. Theladies, too, taking advantage of the great influx of strangers to thecity, were to hold a bazaar for the benefit of St. George's Church; thesum which they hoped to realise by the sale of their fancy wares to beappropriated to paying off the remaining debt contracted for the saidsaint, in erecting this handsome edifice dedicated to his name--letus hope not to his service. Yet the idea of erecting a temple for theworship of God, and calling it the church of a saint of _very doubtfulsanctity_, is one of those laughable absurdities that we would gladly seebanished in this enlightened age. Truly, there are many things in whichour wisdom does not exceed the wisdom of our forefathers. The weatherduring the two first days of the exhibition was very unpropitious; asuccession of drenching thunder showers, succeeded by warm bursts ofsunshine, promising better things, and giving rise to hopes in theexpectant visitants to the show, which were as often doomed to bedisappointed by returns of blackness, storm, and pouring rain. 

I was very anxious to hear the opening address, and I must confess thatI was among those who felt this annihilation of hope very severely; and, being an invalid, I dared not venture upon the grounds before Wednesdaymorning, when this most interesting part of the performance was over. Wednesday, however, was as beautiful a September day as the mostsanguine of the agricultural exhibitors could desire, and the fine spaceallotted for the display of the various objects of industry was crowdedto overflowing. 

It was a glorious scene for those who had the interest of the colony atheart. Every district of the Upper Province had contributed its portionof labour, talent, and ingenuity, to furnish forth the show. Theproducts of the soil, the anvil, and the loom, met the eye at everyturn. The genius of the mechanic was displayed in the effective articlesof machinery, invented to assist the toils and shorten the labour ofhuman hands, and were many and excellent in their kind. Improvements inold implements, and others entirely new, were shown or put into activeoperation by the inventors, --those real benefactors to the human race, to whom the exploits of conquerors, however startling and brilliant, are very inferior in every sense. 

Mechanical genius, which ought to be regarded as the first and greatesteffort of human intellect, is only now beginning to be recognisedas such. The statesman, warrior, poet, painter, orator, and man ofletters, all have their niche in the temple of fame--all have had theirworshippers and admirers; but who among them has celebrated in song andtale the grand creative power which can make inanimate metals move, andact, and almost live, in the wondrous machinery of the present day!It is the mind that conceived, the hand that reduced to practicalusefulness these miraculous instruments, with all their complicatedworks moving in harmony, and performing their appointed office, thatcomes nearest to the sublime Intelligence that framed the universe, andgave life and motion to that astonishing piece of mechanism, the humanform. 

In watching the movements of the steam-engine, one can hardly divestone's self of the idea that it possesses life and consciousness. True, the metal is but a dead agent, but the spirit of the originator stilllives in it, and sways it to the gigantic will that first gave it motionand power. And, oh, what wonders has it not achieved! what obstacleshas it not overcome! how has it brought near things that were far off, and crumbled into dust difficulties which, at first sight, appearedinsurmountable. Honour to the clear-sighted, deep-thinking child ofsprings and wheels, at whose head stands the great Founder of the world, the grandest humanity that ever trode the earth! Rejoice, and shout forjoy, ye sons of the rule and line! for was he not one of you? Did he notcondescend to bow that God-like form over the carpenter's bench, andhandle the plane and saw? Yours should be termed the Divine craft, andthose who follow it truly noble. Your great Master was above the littlethings of earth; he knew the true dignity of man--that virtue conferredthe same majesty upon its possessor in the workshop or the palace--thatthe soul's title to rank as a son of God required neither high birth, nor the adventitious claims of wealth--that the simple name of a goodman was a more abiding honour, even in this world, than that of kings oremperors. 

Oh! ye sons of labour, seek to attain this true dignity inherent in yournature, and cease to envy the possessors of those ephemeral honours thatperish with the perishing things of this world. The time is coming--isnow even at the doors--when education shall give you a truer standing insociety, and good men throughout the whole world shall recognise eachother as brothers. 

 "An' o'er the earth gude sense an' worth Shall bear the gree an' a' that. "

Carried away from my subject by an impetuous current of thought, I muststep back to the show from which I derived a great deal of satisfactionand pleasure. The space in which it was exhibited contained, I am told, about sixteen acres. The rear of this, where the animals were shown, wasa large grove covered with tall spreading trees, beneath the shade ofwhich, reposing or standing in the most picturesque attitudes, were tobe seen the finest breeds of cattle, horses, and sheep, in the province. This inclosure was surrounded by a high boarded fence, against whichpens were erected for the accommodation of plethoric-looking pigs, fatsleepy lambs, and wild mischievous goats; while noble horses were ledto and fro by their owners or their servants, snorting and curvetingin all the conscious pride of strength and beauty. These handsome, proud-looking creatures, might be considered the aristocracy of theanimal department; yet, in spite of their prancing hoofs, arched necks, and glances of fire, they had to labour in their vocation as well as thepoorest pig that grunted and panted in its close pen. There was a donkeythere--a solitary ass--the first of his kind I ever beheld in theprovince. Unused to such a stir and bustle, he lifted up his voice, andmade the grove ring with his discordant notes. The horses bounded andreared, and glanced down upon him in such mad disdain, that they couldscarcely be controlled by their keepers. I can imagine the astonishmentthey must have felt on hearing the first bray of an ass; they could nothave appeared more startled at a lion's roar. Whoever exhibited Mr. Braham was a brave man. A gentleman, who settled in the neighbourhood ofPeterboro twenty years ago, brought out a donkey with him to Canada, anduntil the day of his death he went by no other name than the undignifiedone of Donkey. 

I cannot help thinking, that the donkey would be a very useful creaturein the colony. Though rather an untractable democrat, insisting onhaving things his own way, he is a hardy, patient fellow, and easilykept; and though very obstinate, is by no means insensible to kindtreatment, or incapable of attachment; and then, as an _exterminator ofCanadian thistles_, he would prove an invaluable reformer by removingthese agricultural pests out of the way. Often have I gazed upon the_Canadian thistle_--that prolific, sturdy democrat of the soil, thatrudely jostles aside its more delicate and valued neighbours, elbowingthem from their places with its wide-spreading and armed foliage--andasked myself for what purpose it grew and flourished so abundantly?Surely, it must have some useful qualities; some good must lie hiddenunder its hardy structure and coat of mail, independently of itsexercising those valuable qualities in man--patience and industry--whichmust be called into active operation in order to root it out, and hinderit from destroying the fruits of his labour. The time, perhaps, mayarrive when its thick milky juices and oily roots may be found to yieldnutricious food, or afford a soothing narcotic to alleviate the restlesstossings of pain. I firmly believe that nothing has been made in vain;that every animate and inanimate substance has its use, although we maybe ignorant of it; that the most perfect and beautiful harmony reignsover the visible world; that although we may foolishly despise thoseanimals, plants, and insects, that we consider noxious, because theirreal utility has never been tested by experience, they are absolutelynecessary as links in the great chain of Providence, and appointed tofulfil a special purpose and end. 

"What shall we do for firewood when all the forests are burned?" was avery natural question asked us the other day by a young friend, who, with very scanty means, contemplated with a sort of horror the increaseddemand for fuel, and its increasing price. 

Tupper has an admirable answer for all such queries:--

 "Yet man, heedless of a God, counteth up vain reckonings, Fearing to be jostled and starved out by the too prolific increase of his kind, And asketh, in unbelieving dread, for how few years to come Will the black cellars of the world yield unto him fuel for his winter. Might not the wide waste sea be bent into narrower bounds? Might not the arm of diligence make the tangled wilderness a garden? And for aught thou can'st tell, there may be a thousand methods Of comforting thy limbs in warmth, though thou kindle not a spark. Fear not, son of man, for thyself, nor thy seed--with a multitude is plenty: God's blessing giveth increase, and with it larger than enough. "

Surely it is folly for any one to despair of the future, while theprovidence of God superintends the affairs of the universe. Is it notsinful to doubt the power of that Being, who fed a vast multitude from afew loaves and small fishes? Is His arm shortened, that he can no longerproduce those articles that are indispensable and necessary for thehealth and comfort of the creatures dependent upon his bounty? Whatmillions have been fed by the introduction of the potato plant--thatwild, half-poisonous native of the Chilian mountains! When firstexhibited as a curiousity by Sir Walter Raleigh, who could have imaginedthe astonishing results, --not only in feeding the multitudes that forseveral ages in Ireland it has fed, but that the very blight upon it, by stopping an easy mode of obtaining food, should be the instrument inthe hands of the great Father to induce these impoverished, starvingchildren of an unhappy country, to remove to lands where honest toilwould be amply remunerated, and produce greater blessings for them thanthe precarious support afforded by an esculent root? We have faith, unbounded faith, in the benevolent care of the Universal Father, --faithin the fertility of the earth, and her capabilities of supporting to theend of time her numerous offspring. 

The over-population of old settled countries may appear to a casualthinker a dreadful calamity; and yet it is but the natural meansemployed by Providence to force the poorer classes, by the strong law ofnecessity, to emigrate and spread themselves over the earth, in order tobring into cultivation and usefulness its waste places. When the worldcan no longer maintain its inhabitants, it will be struck out of beingby the fiat of Him who called it into existence. 

Nothing has contributed more to the rapid advance of the province thanthe institution of the Agricultural Society, and from it we are alreadyreaping the most beneficial results. It has stirred up a spirit ofemulation in a large class of people, who were very supine in theirmethod of cultivating their lands; who, instead of improving them, andmaking them produce not only the largest quantity of grain, but that ofthe best quality, were quite contented if they reaped enough from theirslovenly farming to supply the wants of their family, of a very inferiorsort. 

Now, we behold a laudable struggle among the tillers of the soil, as towhich shall send the best specimens of good husbandry to contend forthe prizes at the provincial shows, where very large sums of money areexpended in providing handsome premiums for the victors. All the leadingmen in the province are members of this truly honourable institution;and many of them send horses, and the growth of their gardens, to add tothe general bustle and excitement of the scene. The summer before last, my husband took the second prize for wheat at the provincial show, and Imust frankly own that I felt as proud of it as if it had been the samesum bestowed upon a prize poem. 

There was an immense display of farm produce on the present occasion atToronto, all excellent in their kind. The Agricultural Hall, a large, temporary building of boards, was completely filled with the fruits ofthe earth and the products of the dairy--

 "A glorious sight, if glory dwells below, Where heaven's munificence makes all the show. "

The most delicious butter and tempting cheese, quite equal, perhaps, tothe renowned British in every thing but the name, were displayed in thegreatest abundance. 

A Mr. Hiram Ranney, from the Brock district, contributed a monstercheese, weighing 7 cwt. , not made of "double skimmed sky-blue, " but ofmilk of the richest quality, which, from its size and appearance, mighthave feasted all the rats and mice in the province for the next twelvemonths. It was large enough to have made the good old deity of heathentimes--her godship of the earth--an agricultural throne; while fromthe floral hall, close at hand, a crown could have been woven, onthe shortest notice, of the choicest buds from her own inexhaustibletreasury. 

A great quantity of fine flax and hemp particularly attracted myattention. Both grow admirably in this country, and at no very distantperiod will form staple articles for home manufacture and foreignexport. 

The vast improvement in home-manufactured cloth, blankets, flannels, shawls, carpeting, and counterpanes, was very apparent over the samearticles in former years. In a short time Canada need not be beholden toany foreign country for articles of comfort and convenience. In thesethings her real wealth and strength are shown; and we may well augurfrom what she has already achieved in this line, how much more she cando--and do well--with credit and profit to herself. 

The sheep in Canada are not subject to the diseases which carry off somany yearly in Britain; and though these animals have to be housedduring the winter, they are a very profitable stock. The Canadiangrass-fed mutton is not so large as it is in England, and in flavourand texture more nearly resembles the Scotch. It has more of a youngflavour, and, to my thinking, affords a more wholesome, profitablearticle of consumption. Beef is very inferior to the British; but sincethe attention of the people has been more intently directed to theiragricultural interests, there is a decided improvement in this respect, and the condition of all the meat sent to market now-a-days is ten percent better than the lean, hard animals we used to purchase for winterprovisions, when we first came to the province. 

At that time they had a race of pigs, tall and gaunt, with fierce, bristling manes, that wandered about the roads and woods, seeking whatthey could devour, like famished wolves. You might have pronounced them, without any great stretch of imagination, descended from the same stockinto which the attendant fiends that possessed the poor maniacs ofGalilee had been cast so many ages ago. I knew a gentleman who wasattacked in the bush by a sow of this ferocious breed, who fairly treedhim in the woods of Douro, and kept him on his uncomfortable perchduring several hours, until his swinish enemy's patience was exhausted, and she had to give up her supper of human flesh for the more naturalproducts of the forest, acorns and beech-mast. 

Talking of pigs and sheep recals to my mind an amusing anecdote, toldto me by a resident of one of our back townships, which illustrates, even in a cruel act of retaliation, the dry humour which so stronglycharacterizes the lower class of emigrants from the emerald isle. I willgive it in my young friend's own words:--

"In one of our back townships there lived an old Dutchman, who was ofsuch a vindictive temper that none of his neighbours could remain atpeace with him. He made the owners of the next farm so miserable thatthey were obliged to sell out, and leave the place. The farm passedthrough many hands, and at last became vacant, for no one could stayon it more than a few months; they were so worried and annoyed by thisspiteful old man, who, upon the slightest occasion, threw down theirfences and injured their cattle. In short, the poor people began tosuspect that he was the devil himself, sent among them as a punishmentfor their sins. 

"At last an Irish emigrant lately out was offered the place very cheap, and, to the astonishment of all, bought it, in spite of the bad_karacter_, for the future residence of himself and family. 

"He had not been long on the new place when one of his sheep, which hadgot through a hole in the Dutchman's fence, came hobbling home with oneof its legs stuck through the other. Now, you must know that this man, who was so active in punishing the trespasses of his neighbours' cattleand stock, was not at all particular in keeping his own at home. Therehappened to be an old sow of his, who was very fond of Pat's _potaties_, and a constant _throuble_ to him, just then in the field when thesheep came home. Pat took the old sow (not very tenderly, I'm afraid)by the ear, and drawing out his jack-knife, very deliberately slit hermouth on either side as far as he could. By and by, the old Dutchmancame puffing and blowing along; and seeing Pat sitting upon hisdoor-step, enjoying the evening air, and comfortably smoking his pipe, he asked him if he had seen anything of his sow?

"'Well, neighbour, ' said Pat, putting on one of his gravest faces, 'oneof the strangest things happened a short while ago that I ever saw. Asheep of mine came home with its leg slit and the other put through it, and your old sow was so amused with the odd sight that she split herjaws with laughing. '"

This turned the tables upon the spiteful old man, and completely curedhim of all his ill-natured tricks. He is now one of the best neighboursin the township. 

This was but a poor reparation to the poor sheep and the old sow. Theirsufferings appear to have been regarded by both parties as a very minorconsideration. 

The hall set apart for the display of fancy work and the fine artsappeared to be the great centre of attraction, for it was almostimpossible to force your way through the dense crowd, or catch aglimpse of the pictures exhibited by native artists. The show ofthese was highly creditable indeed. Eight pictures, illustrative ofIndian scenery, character, and customs, by Mr. Paul Kane, would havedone honour to any exhibition. For correctness of design, beauty ofcolouring, and a faithful representation of the peculiar scenery ofthis continent, they could scarcely be surpassed. 

I stood for a long time intently examining these interesting pictures, when a tall fellow, in the grey homespun of the country, who, I suppose, thought that I had my share of enjoyment in that department, very coollytook me by the shoulders, pulled me back into the crowd, and possessedhimself of my vacant place. This man should have formed a class withthe two large tame bears exhibited on the ground appropriated to thepoultry; but I rather think that Bruin and his brother would have beenashamed of having him added to their fraternity; seeing that theirconduct was quite unexceptionable, and they could have a set a goodexample to numbers of the human bipeds, who pushed and elbowed fromside to side anything that obstructed their path, while a little commoncourtesy would have secured to themselves and others a far betteropportunity of examining everything carefully. The greatest nuisancein this respect was a multitude of small children, who were completelyhidden in the press, and whose feet, hands, and head, dealt blows, against which it was impossible to protect yourself, as you feltseverely without being able to ward off their home-thrusts. It is plainthat they could not see at all, but were determined that every oneshould sensibly _feel_ their disappointment. It was impossibleto stop for a moment to examine this most interesting portion of theExhibition; and one was really glad to force a passage out of the pressinto the free air. 

Large placards were pasted about in the most conspicuous places, warningvisitors to the grounds to look out for pickpockets! Every one was onthe alert to discover these gentry--expecting them, I suppose, to beclassed like the animal and vegetable productions of the soil; and thevicinity of a knowing-looking, long-bearded pedlar, who was sellingYankee notions at the top of his voice, and always surrounded by agreat mob, was considered the most likely locality for these invisiblepersonages, who, I firmly believe, existed alone in the fancy of theauthors of the aforesaid placards. 

There was a very fine display of the improved and foreign breeds ofpoultry; and a set of idle Irish loungers, of the lower class, wereamusing themselves by inserting the bowls of their pipes into the pensthat contained these noble fowls, and giving them the benefit of agood smoking. The intoxicating effects of the fumes of the tobacco uponthe poor creatures appeared to afford their tormentors the greatestentertainment. The stately Cochin-China cocks shook their plumed heads, and turned up their beaks with unmistakeable signs of annoyance anddisgust; and two fine fowls that were lying dead outside the pens, wereprobably killed by this novel sport. 

I was greatly struck by the appearance of Okah Tubee, the celebratedIndian doctor, who was certainly the most conspicuous-looking person inthe show, and on a less public occasion would have drawn a large numberof spectators on his own hook. 

Okah Tubee is a broad, stout, powerfully built man, with a large fatface, set off to the least possible advantage by round rings of braidedhair, tied with blue ribbons, and with large gold ear-rings in his ears. Now, it certainly is true that a man has a perfect right to dress hishair in this fashion, or in any fashion he pleases; but a more absurdappearance than the blue ribbons gave to his broad, brown, beardlessface, it is impossible to imagine. The solemn dignity, too, with whichhe carried off this tomfoolery was not the least laughable part of it. I wonder which of his wives--for I was told he had several--braided allthese small rings of hair, and confined them with the blue love-knots;but it is more than probable that the grave Indian performed his owntoilet. His blue surtout beaver hat accorded ill with his Indianleggings and moccassins. I must think that the big man's dress was inshocking bad taste, and decided failure. I missed the sight of himcarrying a flag in the procession, and mounted on horseback; if hisriding-dress matched his walking costume, it must have been rich. 

Leaving the show-ground, we next directed our steps to the Ladies'Bazaar, that was held in the government buildings, and here we founda number of well-dressed, elegant women, sitting like Mathew at thereceipt of custom; it is to be hoped that their labours of love receivedan ample recompense, and that the sale of their pretty toys completelydischarged the debt that had been incurred for their favourite saint. Nor was the glory of old England likely to be forgotten amid such adisplay of national flags as adorned the spacious apartment. 

The Banner Of England. 

 "The banner of old England flows Triumphant in the breeze-- A sign of terror to our foes, The meteor of the seas A thousand heroes bore it In battle fields of old; All nations quail'd before it, Defended by the bold. 

 "Brave Edward and his gallant sons Beneath its shadow bled; And lion-hearted Britons That flag to glory led. The sword of kings defended, When hostile foes drew near; The sheet whose colours bended-- Memorials proud and dear!

 "The hist'ry of a nation Is blazon'd on its page, A brief and bright relation Sent down from age to age. O'er Gallia's hosts victorious, It turn'd their pride of yore; Its fame on earth is glorious, Renown'd from shore to shore. 

 "The soldier's heart has bounded When o'er the tide of war; Where death's brief cry resounded, It flash'd a blazing star. Or floating over leaguer'd wall, It met his lifted eye; Like war-horse to the trumpet's call, He rush'd to victory!

 "No son of Britain e'er will see A foreign band advance, To seize the standard of the free, That dared the might of France. Bright banner of our native land, Bold hearts are knit to thee; A hardy, brave, determined band, Thy champions yet shall be!"

CHAPTER XVII

Niagara

 "Come and worship at a shrine, Rear'd by hands eternal, Where the flashing waters shine, And the turf is ever vernal, And nature's everlasting voice For ever cries--rejoice, rejoice!" S. M. 

The night had been one of pouring rain, and the day dawned through athick veil of misty clouds, on the morning of which we were to startfrom Toronto to visit the Falls of Niagara. 

"It is always so, " I thought, as I tried to peer through the dense mistthat floated round the spire of St. George's church, in order to readwhat promise there might lurk behind its gray folds of a fine day. "Whatwe most wish for is, for some wise purpose inscrutable to our narrowvision, generally withheld. But it may clear up after all. At allevents, we must bide the chance and make the experiment. "

By seven o'clock we were on board the "Chief Justice, " one of thesteamers that daily ply between Toronto and Queenstone. A letterthat I got, in passing the post-office, from the dear children athome, diverted my thoughts for a long while from the dull sky and thedrizzling rain; and when it had been read and re-read, and pondered overfor some time, and God inwardly thanked for the affection that breathedin every line, and the good news it contained, the unpromising mist hadall cleared away, and the sun was casting bright silvery gleams acrossthe broad bosom of the beautiful Ontario. 

We did not meet with a solitary adventure on our very pleasant voyage;the deep blue autumnal sky, and the gently-undulating waters, formingthe chief attraction, and giving rise to pleasant trains of thought, till the spirit blended and harmonized with the grand and simpleelements that composed the scene. 

There were no passengers in the ladies' cabin, and we never left thedeck of the steamer until she came to her wharf at Queenstone. 

The lake for some miles before you reach the entrance of the Niagarariver assumes a yellowish-green tint, quite different from the ordinarydeep blue of its waters. This is probably owing to the vast quantity ofsoil washed down by the rapids from the high lands above. 

The captain told us that after a storm, such as we had experienced onthe preceding night, this appearance, though it always existed, was moreapparent. You catch a distant glance of the Falls from this part of thelake; but it is only in the shape of a light silvery cloud hovering onthe edge of the horizon. We listened in vain for any sound to give usan indication of their near vicinity. The voice of nature was mute. Theroar of the great cataract was not distinguishable at that distance. 

The entrance to the Niagara river is very interesting. You pass betweenthe two strong stone forts, raised for the protection of theirrespective countries; and a hostile vessel would stand but a smallchance of keeping clear from danger in passing either Cerberus. It isdevoutly to be hoped that all such difficulties will be avoided, by theopposite shores remaining firm friends and allies. 

The town of Niagara is a quaint, old-fashioned looking place, andbelongs more to the past than the present of Canada; for it has not mademuch progress since it ceased to be the capital of the Upper Province, in spite of its very advantageous and beautiful locality. 

As you approach Queenstone, the river is much contracted in itsdimensions, and its banks assume a bold and lofty appearance, till theyfrown down upon the waters in stern and solemn grandeur, and impart awild, romantic character to the scene, not often found in the UpperProvince. 

I never beheld any water that resembled the deep green of the Niagara. This may be owing, perhaps, to the immense depth of the river, thecolour of the rocks over which it flows, or it may be reflected from thebeautiful trees and shrubs that clothe its precipitous banks; but itmust strike every person who first gazes upon it as very remarkable;You cannot look down into it, for it is not pellucid but opaque in itsappearance, and runs with a smooth surface more resembling oil thanwater. 

The waters of the St. Lawrence are a pale sea-green, and sotransparently clear that you see through them to a great depth. Atsunrise and sunset they take all the hues of the opal. The Ottawa is adeep blue. The Otonabee looks black, from the dark limestone bed overwhich it foams and rushes. Our own Moira is of a silvery or leaden hue, but the waters of the Niagara are a bright deep green; and did anypainter venture to transfer their singular colour to his canvas, itwould be considered extravagant and impossible. 

The new Suspension Bridge at Queenstone is a beautiful object from thewater. The river here is six hundred feet in width; the space betweenthe two stone towers that support the bridge on either shore is eighthundred and fifty feet; the height above the water, two hundred feet. The towers are not built on the top of the bank, but a platform for eachhas been quarried out of the steep sides of the precipice, about thirtyfeet below the edge of the cliffs. The road that leads up from theQueenstone ferry has been formed by the same process. It is a perilousascent, and hangs almost over the river, nor is there any sufficientbarrier to prevent a skittish horse from plunging from the giddy heightinto the deep, swift stream below. I should not like to travel thisromantic road of a dark October night, even on foot. The Queenstonecab-drivers rattle up and down this fearful path without paying theleast regard to the nerves of their passengers. At the entrance to thebridge, a space is quarried out of the bank to allow heavy teams to turnon to the bridge, which is done with the greatest ease and safety. 

Several heavy loaded teams were crossing from the other side, and it wascurious to watch the horses, when they felt the vibratory motion, drawback close to the vehicles, and take high, short steps, as if theyapprehended some unknown danger. It is surprising how well they behaveon this trying occasion, for a horse, though a very brave animal, is oneof the most nervous ones in creation. 

These beautiful, airy-looking structures, are a great triumph ofmechanical art over a barrier which had long been considered asinsurmountable, except by water. The ready mode of communication whichby their means has been established between the opposite shores, mustprove of incalculable advantage to this part of the colony. 

It is to be hoped that similar bridges will soon span the many rapidrivers in Canada. A sudden spring thaw gives such volume and power tomost of the streams, that few bridges constructed on the old plan arelong able to resist the impetuosity of the current, but are constantlyliable to be carried away, occasioning great damage in their vicinity. 

The Suspension Bridge, by being raised above the possible action of thewater, is liable to none of the casualties that operate against the oldbridge, whose piers and arches, though formed of solid masonry, are notproof against the powerful battering-rams formed by huge blocks of iceand heavy logs of wood, aided by the violent opposing force of thecurrent. 

The light and graceful proportions of the Suspension Bridge add a greatcharm to the beauty of this charming landscape. It is well worth payinga visit to Niagara, if it possessed no object of greater interest in itsneighbourhood than these wonderful structures. 

The village of Queenstone is built at the foot of the hill, and is avery pretty romantic-looking place. Numerous springs wind like silverythreads along the face of the steep bank above; and wherever the watersfind a flat ledge in their downward course, water-cresses of the finestquality grow in abundance, the sparkling water gurgling among theirjuicy leaves, and washing them to emerald brightness. Large portionsof the cliff are literally covered with them. It was no small matterof surprise to me when told that the inhabitants made no use of thisdelicious plant, but laugh at the eagerness with which strangers seekit out. 

The Queenstone Heights, to the east of the village, are a lofty ridge ofland rising three hundred feet above the level of the country below. They are quite as precipitous as the banks of the river. The railroadwinds along the face of this magnificent bank. Gigantic trees tower farabove your head, and a beautiful fertile country lies extended at yourfeet. There, between its rugged banks, winds the glorious river; and, beyond forest and plain, glitters the Ontario against the horizon, like a mimic ocean, blending its blue waters with the azure ocean ofheaven. Truly it is a magnificent scene, and associated with the mostinteresting historical events connected with the province. 

Brock's monument, which you pass on the road, is a melancholy lookingruin, but by no means a picturesque one, resembling some tall chimneythat has been left standing after the house to which it belonged hadbeen burnt down. 

Some time ago subscriptions were set on foot to collect money to rebuildthis monument; but the rock on which it stands is, after all, a moreenduring monument to the memory of the hero than any perishablestructure raised to commemorate the desperate struggle that terminatedon this spot. As long as the heights of Queenstone remain, and the riverpours its swift current to mingle with the Ontario, the name of GeneralBrock will be associated with the scene. The noblest tablet on which thedeeds of a great man can be engraved, is on the heart of his gratefulcountry. 

Were a new monument erected on this spot to-morrow, it is more thanprobable that it would share the fate of its predecessor, and somepatriotic American would consider it an act of duty to the greatRepublic to dash it out of _creation_. 

From Queenstone we took a carriage on to Niagara, a distance of abouteight miles, over good roads, and through a pleasant, smiling tract ofcountry. This part of the province might justly be termed the gardenof Canada, and partakes more of the soft and rich character of Englishscenery. 

The ground rises and falls in gentle slopes; the fine meadows, entirelyfree from the odious black stumps, are adorned with groups of noblechestnut and black walnut trees; and the peach and apple orchards infull bearing, clustering around the neat homesteads, give to them anappearance of wealth and comfort, which cannot exist for many years tocome in more remote districts. 

The air on these high table-lands is very pure and elastic; and I couldnot help wishing for some good fairy to remove my little cottage intoone of the fair enclosures we passed continually by the roadside, andplace it beneath the shade of some of the beautiful trees that adornedevery field. 

Here, for the first time in Canada, I observed hedges of the Canadianthorn--a great improvement on the old snake fence of rough split timberwhich prevails all through the colony. What a difference it would makein the aspect of the country if these green hedgerows were in generaluse! It would take from the savage barrenness given to it by thesecrooked wooden lines, that cross and recross the country in alldirections: no object can be less picturesque or more unpleasing tothe eye. A new clearing reminds one of a large turnip field, dividedby hurdles into different compartments for the feeding of sheep andcattle. Often, for miles on a stretch, there is scarcely a tree orbush to relieve the blank monotony of these ugly, uncouth partitionsof land, beyond charred stumps and rank weeds, and the uniform belt offorest at the back of the new fields. 

The Canadian cuts down, but rarely plants trees, which circumstanceaccounts for the blank look of desolation that pervades all newsettlements. A few young maples and rock elms, planted along theroadsides, would, at a very small expense of labour, in a very fewyears remedy this ugly feature in the Canadian landscape, and afforda grateful shade to the weary traveller from the scorching heat ofthe summer sun. 

In old countries, where landed property often remains for ages in thesame family, the present occupant plants and improves for futuregenerations, hoping that his son's sons may enjoy the fruit of hislabours. But in a new country like this, where property is constantlychanging owners, no one seems to think it worth their while to take anytrouble to add to the beauty of a place for the benefit of strangers. 

Most of our second growth of trees have been planted by the beautifulhand of nature, who, in laying out her cunning work, generally does itin the most advantageous manner; and chance or accident has suffered thetrees to remain on the spot from whence they sprung. 

Trees that grow in open spaces after the forest has been cleared away, are as graceful and umbrageous as those planted in parks at home. Theforest trees seldom possess any great beauty of outline; they run allto top, and throw out few lateral branches. There is not a tree in thewoods that could afford the least shelter during a smart shower of rain. They are so closely packed together in these dense forests, that a verysmall amount of foliage, for the size and length of the trunk, is to befound on any individual tree. One wood is the exact picture of another;the uniformity dreary in the extreme. There are no green vistas to beseen; no grassy glades beneath the bosky oaks, on which the deer browse, and the gigantic shadows sleep in the sunbeams. A stern array of ruggedtrunks, a tangled maze of scrubby underbrush, carpetted winter andsummer with a thick layer of withered buff leaves, form the generalfeatures of a Canadian forest. 

A few flowers force their heads through this thick covering of leaves, and make glad with their beauty the desolate wilderness; but those wholook for an Arcadia of fruits and flowers in the Backwoods of Canadacannot fail of disappointment. Some localities, it is true, are morefavoured than others, especially those sandy tracts of table-land thatare called plains in this country; the trees are more scattered, and theground receives the benefit of light and sunshine. 

Flowers--those precious gifts of God--do not delight in darkness andshade, and this is one great reason why they are so scarce in the woods. I saw more beautiful blossoms waving above the Niagara river, from everycrevice in its rocky banks, than I over beheld during my long residencein the bush. These lovely children of light seem peculiarly to rejoicein their near vicinity to water, the open space allowed to the widerivers affording them the air and sunshine denied to them in the closeatmosphere of the dense woods. 

The first sight we caught of the Falls of Niagara was from the top ofthe hill that leads directly into the village. I had been intentlyexamining the rare shrubs and beautiful flowers that grew in anexquisite garden surrounding a very fine mansion on my right hand, perfectly astonished at their luxuriance, and the emerald greenness ofthe turf at that season, which had been one of unprecedented drought, when, on raising my head, the great cataract burst on my sight withoutany intervening screen, producing an overwhelming sensation in my mindwhich amounted to pain in its intensity. 

Yes, the great object of my journey--one of the fondest anticipations ofmy life--was at length accomplished; and for a moment the blood recoiledback to my heart, and a tremulous thrill ran through my whole frame. Iwas so bewildered--so taken by surprise--that every feeling was absorbedin the one consciousness, that the sublime vision was before me; that Ihad at last seen Niagara; that it was now mine forever, stereotyped uponmy heart by the unerring hand of nature; producing an impression whichnothing but madness or idiotcy could efface!

It was some seconds before I could collect my thoughts, or concentratemy attention sufficiently to identify one of its gigantic features. The eye crowds all into the one glance, and the eager mind is too muchdazzled and intoxicated for minor details. Astonishment and admirationare succeeded by curious examination and enjoyment; but it is impossibleto realize this at first. The tumultuous rush of feeling, the excitementoccasioned by the grand spectacle, must subside before you can draw afree breath, and have time for thought. 

The American Fall was directly opposite, resembling a vast rollingcylinder of light flashing through clouds of silvery mist, and castingfrom it long rays of indescribable brightness. I never could realize inthis perfect image of a living and perpetual motion, a _fall_ ofwaters; it always had to my eyes this majestic, solemn, rotatorymovement, when seen from the bank above. The Horse-shoe Fall is furtheron to the right, and you only get a side view of it from this point. 

The Falls are seen to the least possible advantage from the brow of thesteep bank. In looking down upon them, you can form no adequate idea oftheir volume, height, and grandeur; yet that first glance can never beeffaced. You feel a thrilling, triumphant joy, whilst contemplating thismaster-piece of nature--this sublime idea of the Eternal--this wonderfulsymbol of the power and strength of the divine Architect of theuniverse. 

It is as if the great heart of nature were laid bare before you, and yousaw and heard all its gigantic throbbings, and watched the current ofits stupendous life flowing perpetually forward. 

I cannot imagine how any one could be disappointed in this august scene;and the singular indifference manifested by others;--it is eithera miserable affectation of singularity, or a lamentable want ofsensibility to the grand and beautiful. The human being who could standunmoved before the great cataract, and feel no quickening of the pulse, no silent adoration of the heart towards the Creator of this wondrousscene, would remain as indifferent and as uninspired before the throneof God!

Throwing out of the question the romantic locality, --the rugged woodedbanks, the vast blocks of stone scattered at the edge of the torrent, the magic colour of the waters, the overhanging crags, the wild flowerswaving from the steep, the glorious hues of the ever-changing rainbowthat spans the river, and that soft cloud of silvery brightness for everflowing upward into the clear air, like the prayer of faith ascendingfrom earth to heaven, --the enormous magnitude of the waters alone, theircurbless power, and eternal motion, are sufficient to give rise tofeelings of astonishment and admiration such as never were experiencedbefore. 

Not the least of these sensations is created by the deep roar of thefalling torrent, that shakes the solid rocks beneath your feet, and isrepeated by the thousand hidden echoes among those stern craggy heights. 

It is impossible for language to convey any adequate idea of thegrandeur of the Falls, when seen from below, either from the deck ofthe "Maid of the Mist, "--the small steamer that approaches within a fewyards of the descending sheet of the Horse-shoe Falls--or from the ferryboat that plies continually between the opposite shores. From the fraillittle boat, dancing like a feather upon the green swelling surges, you perhaps form the best notion of the vastness and magnitude of thedescending waters, and of your own helplessness and insignificance. They flow down upon your vision like moving mountains of light; and theshadowy outline of black mysterious-looking rocks, dimly seen throughclouds of driving mist, adds a wild sublimity to the scene. While theboat struggles over the curling billows, at times lifted up by theground-swells from below, the feeling of danger and insecurity islost in the whirl of waters that surround you. The mind expands withthe scene, and you rejoice in the terrific power that threatens toannihilate you and your fairy bark. A visible presence of the majesty ofGod is before you, and, sheltered by His protecting hand, you behold theglorious spectacle and live. 

The dark forests of pine that form the background to the Falls, whenseen from above, are entirely lost from the surface of the river, andthe descending floods seem to pour down upon you from the skies. 

The day had turned out as beautiful as heart could wish; and though Ifelt very much fatigued with the journey, I determined to set all achesand pains at defiance whilst I remained on this enchanted ground. 

We had just time enough to spare before dinner to walk to the tablerock, following the road along the brow of the steep bank. On the waywe called in at the Curiosity Shop, kept by an old grey-haired man, whohad made for himself a snug little California by turning all he touchedinto gold; his stock-in-trade consisting of geological specimens fromthe vicinity of the Falls--pebbles, plants, stuffed birds, beasts, andsticks cut from the timber that grows along the rocky banks, and twistedinto every imaginable shape. The heads of these canes were dexterouslycarved to imitate snakes, snapping turtles, eagles' heads, and Indianfaces. Here, the fantastic ends of the roots of shrubs from which theywere made were cut into a grotesque triumvirate of legs and feet; here ablack snake, spotted and coloured to represent the horrid reptile, madeyou fancy its ugly coils already twisting in abhorrent folds about yourhands and arms. There was no end to the old man's imaginative freaks inthis department, his wares bearing a proportionate price to the dignityof the location from which they were derived. 

A vast amount of Indian toys, and articles of dress, made the museumquite gay with their tawdry ornaments of beads and feathers. It isa pleasant lounging place, and the old man forms one of its chiefattractions. 

Proceeding on to the table rock, we passed many beautiful gardens, allbearing the same rich tint of verdure, and glowing with fruit andflowers. The showers of spray, rising from the vast natural fountain intheir neighbourhood, fill the air with cool and refreshing moisture, which waters these lovely gardens, as the mists did of yore that wentup from the face of the earth to water the garden of Eden. 

The Horse-shoe Fall is much lower than its twin cataract on the Americanside; but what it loses in height, it makes up in power and volume, and the amount of water that is constantly discharged over it. As weapproached the table rock, a rainbow of splendid dyes spanned the river;rising from out the driving mist from the American Fall, until it meltedinto the leaping snowy foam of the great Canadian cataract. There isa strange blending, in this scene, of beauty and softness with themagnificent and the sublime: a deep sonorous music in the thunderingof the mighty floods, as if the spirits of earth and air united in onesolemn choral chant of praise to the Creator; the rocks vibrate to theliving harmony, and the shores around seem hurrying forward, as ifimpelled by the force of the descending torrent of sound. Yet, withina few yards of all this whirlpool of conflicting elements, the riverglides onward as peacefully and gently as if it had not received intoits mysterious depths this ever-falling avalanche of foaming waters. 

Here you enjoy a splendid view of the Rapids. Raising your eyes fromthe green, glassy edge of the Falls, you see the mad hubbub of boilingwaves rushing with headlong fury down the watery steep, to take theirfinal plunge into the mist-covered abyss below. On, on they come--thatwhite-crested phalanx of waves pouring and crowding upon each other infrantic chase!

 "Things of life, and light, and motion, Spirits of the unfathom'd ocean, Hurrying on with curbless force, Like some rash unbridled horse; High in air their white crests flinging, And madly to destruction springing. "

These boiling breakers seem to shout and revel in a wild ecstasy offreedom and power; and you feel inclined to echo their shout, andrejoice with them. Yet it is curious to mark how they slacken theirmad speed when they reach the ledge of the fall, and melt into the icysmoothness of its polished brow, as if conscious of the superior forcethat is destined to annihilate their identity, and dash them into mistand spray. In like manner the waves of life are hurried into the abyssof death, and absorbed in the vast ocean of eternity. 

Niagara would be shorn of half its wonders divested of theseglorious Rapids, which form one of the grandest features in themagnificent scene. 

We returned to our inn, the Clifton House, just in time to save ourdinner: having taken breakfast in Toronto at half-past six, we werequite ready to obey the noisy summons of the bell, and follow our sableguide into the eating room. 

The Clifton House is a large, handsome building, directly fronting theFalls. It is fitted up in a very superior style, and contains ampleaccommodations for a great number of visitors. It had been very fullduring the summer months, but a great many persons had left during thepreceding week, which I considered a very fortunate circumstance forthose who, like myself, came to see instead of to be seen. 

The charges for a Canadian hotel are high; but of course you areexpected to pay something extra at a place of such general resort, andfor the grand view of the Falls, which can be enjoyed at any momentby stepping into the handsome balcony into which the saloon opens, and which runs the whole length of the side and front of the house. The former commands a full view of the American, the latter of theHorse-shoe Fall; and the high French windows of this elegantlyfurnished apartment give you the opportunity of enjoying both. 

You pay four dollars a-day for your board and bed; this does not includewine, and every little extra is an additional charge. Children andservants are rated at half-price, and a baby is charged a dollar a-day. This item in the family programme is something new in the bill ofcharges at an hotel in this country; for these small gentry, thoughthey give a great deal of trouble to their lawful owners, are alwaysentertained gratis at inns and on board steamboats. 

The room in which dinner was served could have accommodated with easetreble the number of guests. A large party, chiefly Americans, sat downto table. The dishes are not served on the table; a bill of fare is laidby every plate, and you call for what you please. 

This arrangement, which saves a deal of trouble, seemed very distastefulto a gentleman near us, to whom the sight of good cheer must have beenalmost as pleasant as eating it, for he muttered half aloud--"that hehated these new-fangled ways; that he liked to see what he was going toeat; that he did not choose to be put off with kickshaws; that he didnot understand the French names for dishes. He was not French, and hethought that they might be written in plain English. "

I was very much of the same opinion, and found myself nearly in the samepredicament with the grumbler at my left hand; but I did not betray myignorance by venturing a remark. This brought forcibly to my mind astory that had recently been told me by a dear primitive old lady, adaughter of one of the first Dutch settlers in the Upper Province, overwhich I had laughed very heartily at the time; and now it served as anillustration of my own case. 

"You know, my dear, " said old Mrs. C---, "that I went lately to NewYork to visit a nephew of mine, whom I had not seen from a boy. Well, he has grown a very great man since those days, and is now one of thewealthiest merchants in the city. I never had been inside such a grandlyfurnished house before. We know nothing of the great world in Canada, orhow the rich people live in such a place as New York. Ours are all breadand butter doings when compared with their grand fixings. I saw andheard a great many things, such as I never dreamed of before, and whichfor the life of me I could not understand; but I never let on. 

"One morning, at luncheon, my nephew says to me, 'Aunty C---, you havenever tasted our New York cider; I will order up some on purpose to seehow you like it. '

"The servant brought up several long-necked bottles on a real silvertray, and placed them on the table. 'Good Lord!' thinks I, 'these arequeer looking cider bottles. P'raps it's champagne, and he wants to getup a laugh against me before all these strange people. ' I had neverseen or tasted champagne in all my life, though there's lots of it soldin Canada, and our head folks give champagne breakfasts, and champagnedinners; but I had heard how it acted, and how, when you drew the corksfrom the bottles, they went pop--pop. So I just listened a bit, and heldmy tongue; and the first bounce it gave, I cried out, 'Mr. R---, you maycall that cider in New York, but we call it champagne in Canada!'

"'Do you get champagne in Canada, Aunty?' says he, stopping and lookingme straight in the face. 

"'Oh, don't we?' says I; 'and it's a great deal better than your _NewYork cider_. '

"He looked mortified, I tell you, and the company all laughed; and Idrank off my glass of champagne as bold as you please, as if I had beenused to it all my life. When you are away from home, and find yourselfignorant of a thing or two, never let others into the secret. Watch andwait, and you'll find it out by and by. "

Not having been used to French dishes during my long sojourn in Canada, I was glad to take the old lady's advice, and make use of my eyes andears before I ordered my own supplies. 

It would have done Mrs. Stowe's heart good to have seen the fine corpsof well-dressed negro waiters who served the tables, most of whom wererunaway slaves from the States. The perfect ease and dexterity withwhich they supplied the guests, without making a single mistake out ofsuch a variety of dishes, was well worthy of notice. 

It gave me pleasure to watch the quickness of all their motions, thepoliteness with which they received so many complicated orders, and thenoiseless celerity with which they were performed. This cost them noeffort, but seemed natural to them. There were a dozen of these blacksin attendance, all of them young, and some, in spite of their darkcolouring, handsome, intelligent looking men. 

The master of the hotel was eloquent in their praise, and said that theyfar surpassed the whites in the neat and elegant manner in which theylaid out a table, --that he scarcely knew what he would do without them. 

I found myself guilty of violating Lord Chesterfield's rules ofpoliteness, while watching a group of eaters who sat opposite to me attable. The celerity with which they despatched their dinner, and yetcontrived to taste of everything contained in the bill of fare, wasreally wonderful. To them it was a serious matter of business; theynever lifted their eyes from their plates, or spoke a word beyondordering fresh supplies, during feeding time. 

One long-ringletted lady in particular attracted my notice, for she didmore justice to the creature comforts than all the rest. The lastcourse, including the dessert, was served at table, and she helpedherself to such quantities of pudding, pie, preserves, custard, ice, andfruit, that such a medley of rich things I never before saw heaped uponone plate. Some of these articles she never tasted; but she seemeddetermined to secure to herself a portion of all, and to get as much asshe could for her money. 

I wish nature had not given me such a quick perception of theridiculous--such a perverse inclination to laugh in the wrong place; forthough one cannot help deriving from it a wicked enjoyment, it is a verytroublesome gift, and very difficult to conceal. So I turned my faceresolutely from contemplating the doings of the long-ringletted lady, and entered into conversation with an old gentleman from the States--a_genuine_ Yankee, whom I found a very agreeable and intelligent companion, willing to exchange, with manly, independent courtesy, the treasures ofhis own mind with another; and I listened to his account of Americanschools and public institutions with great interest. His party consistedof a young and very delicate looking lady, and a smart active little boyof five years of age. These I concluded were his daughter and grandson, from the striking likeness that existed between the child and the oldman. The lady, he said, was in bad health--the boy was hearty andwide-awake. 

After dinner the company separated; some to visit objects of interestin the neighbourhood, others to the saloon and the balcony. I preferreda seat in the latter; and ensconcing myself in the depths of a largecomfortable rocking chair, which was placed fronting the Falls, I gaveup my whole heart and soul to the contemplation of their gloriousbeauty. 

I was roused from a state almost bordering on idolatry by a ladyremarking to another, who was standing beside her, "that she consideredthe Falls a great humbug; that there was more fuss made about them thanthey deserved; that she was satisfied with having seen them once; andthat she never wished to see them again. "

I was not the least surprised, on turning my head, to behold in thespeaker the long-ringletted lady. 

A gentleman to whom I told these remarks laughed heartily. --"Thatreminds me of a miller's wife who came from Black Rock, near Buffalo, last summer, to see the Falls. After standing here, and looking at themfor some minutes, she drawled through her nose--'Well, I declare, isthat all? And have I come eighteen miles to look at you? I might ha'spared myself the expense and trouble; my husband's mill-dam is as gooda sight, --only it's not just as _high_. '"

This lady would certainly have echoed the sublime sentiment expressedby our friend the poet, --

 "Oh, what a glorious place for washing sheep Niagara would be!"

In the evening my husband hired a cab, and we drove to see the UpperSuspension Bridge. The road our driver took was very narrow, and closeto the edge of the frightful precipice that forms at this place the bankof the river, which runs more than two hundred feet below. 

The cabman, we soon discovered, was not a member of the temperancesociety. He was very much intoxicated; and, like Jehu the son of Nimshi, he drove furiously. I felt very timid and nervous. Sickness makes us sadcowards, and what the mind enjoys in health, becomes an object of fearwhen it is enfeebled and unstrung by bodily weakness. 

My dear husband guessed my feelings, and placed himself in such a manneras to hide from my sight the danger to which we were exposed by ourcareless driver. In spite of the many picturesque beauties in our road, I felt greatly relieved when we drove up to the bridge, and our shortjourney was accomplished. 

The Suspension Bridge on which we now stood--surveying from its dizzyheight, two hundred and thirty feet above the water, the streambelow--seems to demand from us a greater amount of interest than the oneat Queenstone, from the fact of its having been the first experiment ofthe kind ever made in this country, --a grand and successful effort ofmechanical genius over obstacles that appeared insurmountable. 

The river is two hundred feet wider here than at Queenstone, and thebridge is of much larger dimensions. The height of the stone tower thatsupports it on the American side is sixty-eight feet, and of the woodentower on the Canadian shore fifty feet. The number of cables for thebridge is sixteen; of strands in each cable, six hundred; of strands inthe ferry-cable, thirty-seven, the diameter of which is seven-eighths ofan inch. The ultimate tension is six thousand five hundred tons, and thecapacity of the bridge five hundred. A passage across is thrillinglyexciting. 

The depth of the river below the bridge is two hundred and fifty feet, and the water partakes more largely of that singular deep green at thisspot than I had remarked elsewhere. The American stage crossed thebridge as we were leaving it, and the horses seemed to feel the samemysterious dread which I have before described. A great number of strongwooden posts that support the towers take greatly from the elegance ofthis bridge; but I am told that these will shortly be removed, and theirplace supplied by a stone tower and buttresses. We returned by anotherand less dangerous route to the Clifton House, just in time to witness aglorious autumnal sunset. 

The west was a flood of molten gold, fretted with crimson clouds; thegreat Horse-shoe Fall caught every tint of the glowing heavens, andlooked like a vast sheet of flame, the mist rising from it like a wreathof red and violet-coloured smoke. This gorgeous sight, contrasted by thedark pine woods and frowning cliffs which were thrown into deep shade, presented a spectacle of such surpassing beauty and grandeur, that itcould only be appreciated by those who witnessed it. Any attempt todescribe it must prove a failure. I stood chained to the spot, mutewith admiration, till the sun set behind the trees, and the last raysof light faded from the horizon; and still the thought uppermost in mymind was--who could feel disappointed at a scene like this? Can the wideworld supply such another?

The removal of all the ugly mills along its shores would improve it, perhaps, and add the one charm it wants, by being hemmed in by tastelessbuildings, --the sublimity of solitude. 

Oh, for one hour alone with Nature, and her great master-piece Niagara!What solemn converse would the soul hold with its Creator at such ashrine, --and the busy hum of practical life would not mar with itsjarring discord, this grand "thunder of the waters!" Realities areunmanageable things in some hands, and the Americans are gravelycontemplating making their sublime Fall into a motive power for turningmachinery. 

Ye gods! what next will the love of gain suggest to thesegold-worshippers? The whole earth should enter into a protest againstsuch an act of sacrilege--such a shameless desecration of one of thenoblest works of God. 

Niagara belongs to no particular nation or people. It is an inheritancebequeathed by the great Author to all mankind, --an altar raised by hisown almighty hand, at which all true worshippers must bow the knee insolemn adoration. I trust that these free glad waters will assert theirown rights, and dash into mist and spray any attempt made to infringetheir glorious liberty. 

But the bell is ringing for tea, and I must smother my indignation withthe reflection, that "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. "

A Freak Of Fancy. 

 "I had a dream of ocean, In stern and stormy pride; With terrible commotion, Dark, thundering, came the tide. High on the groaning shore Upsprang the wreathed spray; Tremendous was the roar Of the angry, echoing bay. 

 "Old Neptune's snowy coursers Unbridled trode the main, And o'er the foaming waters Plunged on in mad disdain: The furious surges boiling, Roll mountains in their path; Beneath their white hoofs coiling, They spurn them in their wrath. 

 "The moon at full was streaming Through rack and thunder-cloud, Like the last pale taper gleaming On coffin, pall, and shroud. The winds were fiercely wreaking Their vengeance on the wave, A hoarse dirge wildly shrieking O'er each uncoffin'd grave. 

 "I started from my pillow-- The moon was riding high, The wind scarce heav'd a billow Beneath that cloudless sky. I look'd from earth to heaven, And bless'd the tranquil beam; My trembling heart had striven With the tempest of a dream. "

CHAPTER XVIII

Goat Island

 "Adown Niagara's giant steep, The foaming breakers crowding leap, With wild tumultuous roar; The mighty din ascends on high, In deafening thunder to the sky, And shakes the rocky shore. " S. M. 

The lady with the ringlets was absent with her party from the tea-table;I was not sorry to learn that she was gone. I had conceived a prejudiceagainst her from the remark I heard her make about the Falls. Hergustativeness predominated so largely over her ideality, that shereminded me of a young lady who, after describing to me a supper ofwhich by her own account she had largely partaken, said, with a candouralmost shocking in its simplicity--

"To tell you the plain truth, my dear Mrs. M---, my art (she wasEnglish, and cockney, and dreadfully mangled the letter _h_ wheneverit stumbled into a speech) is in my _stomach_. "

The cup of excellent tea was most refreshing after the fatigues of theday; and, while enjoying it, I got into an agreeable chat with severalpleasant people, but we were all strangers even in name to each other. 

The night was misty and intensely dark, without moon or stars. How Ilonged for one glimpse of the former, to shed if only a wandering gleamupon the Falls! The awful music of their continuous roar filled theheavens, and jarred the windows of the building with the tremulousmotion we feel on board a steam-boat. And then I amused myself withpicturing them, during one of our desolating thunderstorms, leaping intoexistence out of the dense darkness, when revealed by the broad redflashes of lightning; and I wished that my limited means would allow meto remain long enough in their vicinity, to see them under every changeof season and weather. But it was not to be; and after peering long andanxiously into the dark night, I retreated to an unoccupied sofa in adistant part of the saloon, to watch and listen to all that was passingaround me. 

Two young American ladies, not of a highly educated class, were engagedin a lively conversation with two dashing English officers, who, for their own amusement, were practising upon their credulity, andflattering their national prejudices with the most depreciating remarkson England and the English people. 

"I am English, " cried number one; "but I am no great admirer of herpeople and institutions. The Americans beat them hollow. "

"All the world think so but themselves, " said the younger lady; "theyare such a vain, arrogant set!"

"Decidedly so. The men are bad enough, but the women, --I dare say youhave heard them called handsome?"

"Ah, yes, " in a very lively tone; "but I never believed it. I never inmy life saw a pretty English woman among all that I have seen in NewYork. To my thinking, they are a sad set of frights. Stiff, formal, andrepulsive, they dress in shocking bad taste, and consider themselves andtheir uncouth fashions as the standards of perfection. "

"My dear madam, you are right. They are odious creatures. The beauty forwhich they were once renowned has vanished with the last generation. Ourmodern English girls are decided barbarians. It is impossible to meetwith a pretty English woman now-a-days. I have made a vow to cut themaltogether; and if ever I commit such a foolish thing as matrimony, totake to myself an _American_ wife. "

"Are you in earnest?" with a very fascinating smile, and flashing uponhim her fine dark eyes. 

"Quite so. But, now, you must not take me for a rich English Coelebs insearch of a wife. I am an unfortunate scapegrace, have run out all mymeans, and am not worth a York shilling to jingle on a tombstone. I wasobliged to borrow money of my landlord--he's a capital fellow--to pay mywasherwoman's bill this morning. So don't fall in love with me. I assureyou, on my honour, it would be a bad spec. "

"Don't be alarmed, " returned the dark-eyed girl, evidently much pleasedwith her odd companion. "Are you very young?"

"I was never young. My mother told me that I had cut my wisdom-teethwhen I was born. I was wide awake, too, like your clever people, andhave kept my eyes open ever since. 

"You have seen a great deal of the world?"

"Yes, too much of it; but 'tis a tolerable world to live in after all. "

"Were you ever in the United States?"

"Only crossed from the other side a few days ago. Did you not notice thearrival of Mr. P--- among the list of distinguished foreigners thathonoured your great city with their presence?"

"And what struck you most when you got there?"

"Oh, the beauty and elegance of the women, of course. "

"You flatter us. "

"Fact, upon honour, " with a quizzical application of his hand to hisheart. 

"What did you admire in them?"

"Their straight up and down figures. They have no vulgarredundancies--no red cheeks and pug noses; and then their voices are sosweet and harmonious, their pronunciation so correct, so every waysuperior to the boisterous, hearty frankness of our British girls!"

"English women have very bad noses--I have remarked that; and they areso horribly fat, and they laugh so loud, and talk in such a high key!My! I often wondered where they learned their manners. "

"Oh! 'tis all natural to them--it comes to them without teaching. "

"I have been told that London is a shocking place. "

"Dreadful; and the climate is disgusting. It rains there every day, andfogs are so prevalent that during the winter months, they burn candlesall day to see to eat. As to the sun, he never comes out but once ortwice during the summer, just to let us know that he has not been struckout of creation. And the streets, my dear young lady, are so filthy thatthe women have to wear pattens in their carriages. "

"You don't say?"

"Just to keep their petticoats out of the mud, which is so deep that itpenetrates through the bottom of the carriages. "

"I never will go to England, I declare. "

"You will be better appreciated in your free and glorious country. Slavery thrives there, and you make slaves of us poor men. "

"Now, do stop there, and have done with your blarney. "

"Blarney! I'm not Irish. Englishmen always speak the truth when talkingto the ladies. "

Here he paused, quite out of breath, and his companion in mischiefcommenced with the other lady. 

"Who is that tall, stout, handsome man, with the fat lady on his arm, who has just entered the room?"

"That's an American from the south; he's worth his weight in gold, andthat fleshy woman's his wife. My! is he not handsome! and he's soclever--one of our greatest senators. "

"If size makes a man great, and he has the distinguished honour of beingone of _your_ senators, he must be a great--a very great man. 

"He's a splendid orator; you should hear him speak. "

"He has kept his mouth shut all day; and when he does open it, it isonly to speak in French to his wife. My curiosity is excited; it wouldbe quite a treat to hear him talk on any subject. "

"When _he_ speaks, it's always to the purpose. But there's no one herewho is able to appreciate talents like his. "

"He's an American aristocrat. "

"We have no aristocrats with us. He's a great slave-owner, and immenselyrich. "

"Very substantial claims to distinction, I must confess. You are wiserin these matters than we are. What do you think of Canada?"

"I don't know; it's very well for a young place. I only came here withsister last night; we are on our way to Quebec. "

"To visit friends?"

"We have no friends in Canada. We want to see Lord Elgin. "

"Lord Elgin!"

"Yes. We have seen a great many curious things, but we never saw anEnglish lord. "

"And you are going to Quebec for no other purpose than to look at LordElgin? His lordship should feel himself highly flattered. What sort ofan animal do you suppose him to be?"

"A man, of course; but I assure you that the Boston ladies thought agreat deal of him. Sister and I have plenty of time and money at ourdisposal, and we wanted to see if their opinion was correct. "

"Well, I hope you may be gratified, and agree with the Boston ladiesthat he is a very clever man. "

"Is he handsome?"

"He has an English nose. "

"Oh, shocking!"

"A decided Anglo-Saxon face. "

"I'm sure I shan't admire him. "

"But I'll not anticipate. A man may be a fine looking fellow in spite ofhis nose. But what do you think of the Falls?"

"Well, I have not _quite_ made up my mind about them. I should liketo ride down to the edge of the river to look at them from below. "

"I will order a carriage to-morrow morning, and drive you down. "

"Thank you; I can do that for myself, if I have a mind to. I should liketo ride down on horseback. "

"The path is too steep; no one ventures down that terrible road onhorseback. "

"But I'm a capital rider. "

"No matter; they use cows for that purpose here. "

"Cows!"

"They are very safe, sure-footed animals. All the ladies ride down tothe Falls on cows. "

"Are they fools?"

"Wise women. Did not you see that fine drove of cows pass the hotel atsunset?"

"I did. I thought they were driven into the yard to be milked. "

"Why, yes; but those cows are making Mr. ---'s fortune. They serve adouble purpose, providing delicious butter and cream for his customers, and acting as horses for the ladies. I will pick out the most docileamong them for your excursion to-morrow morning, and see it bridled andsaddled myself. "

This was too much for the gravity of any one. My son-in-law ran out ofthe room, and I laughed aloud. The poor girls began to find out thatthey were sold, and retreated into the balcony. An hour afterwards, as Iwas pacing through the long gallery that led to our sleeping apartment, one of the many doors on either side softly opened, and the youngest ofthese bright-eyed damsels stole out. 

"I want to ask you a question, " she said, laying her very white handconfidingly on my arm; "were those Englishmen quizzing my sister andme?"

"Need you ask that question?" said I, not a little amused at hersimplicity. 

"I never suspected it till I saw your son laughing to himself, and thenI guessed something was wrong. It was a great shame of those rudefellows to amuse themselves at our expense; but your son is quite adifferent person--so handsome and gentlemanly. We admire him so much. Ishe married?"

"His wife is my daughter. "

I can't tell why my answer struck the fair inquirer dumb; she drew backsuddenly into her chamber, and closed the door without bidding me goodnight, and that was the last time I saw or heard of her and hercompanion. 

"A summer spent at the Clifton House would elicit more extraordinarytraits of character than could be gathered from the chit-chat of a dozennovels, " thought I, as I paced on to No. 50, the last room on the longtier. 

I was up by daybreak the next morning to see the Falls by sunrise, andwas amply repaid for leaving my warm bed, and encountering the brightbracing morning air, by two hours' enjoyment of solemn converse alonewith God and Niagara. The sun had not yet lifted his majestic head abovethe pine forest, or chased with his beams the dark shadows of nightthat rested within the curved sides of the great Horse-shoe. The waterslooked black as they rolled in vast smooth masses downward, till, meeting the projecting rocks, they were tossed high into the air inclouds of dazzling foam--so pure, so stainlessly white, when contrastedwith the darkness, that they looked as if belonging to heaven ratherthan to earth. Anon, that dancing feathery tumult of foam catches a rosygleam from the coming day. A long stream of sunlight touches the centreof the mighty arch, and transforms the black waters into a mass ofsmooth transparent emerald green, and the spray flashes with myriads ofrubies and diamonds; while the American Fall still rolls and thunderson in cold pure whiteness, Goat Island and its crests of dark pinesshrouding it in a robe of gloom. The voice of the waters rising amidstthe silence that reigns at that lovely calm hour, sounds sonorous andgrand. Be still, O my soul! earth is pouring to her Creator her morninganthem of solemn praise!

Earth! how beautiful thou art! When will men be worthy of the paradisein which they are placed? Did our first father, amidst the fresh youngbeauty of his Eden, ever gaze upon a spectacle more worthy of hisadmiration than this? We will except those moments when he held conversewith God amid the cool shades of that delicious garden. 

"That's a sublime sight!" said a voice near me. 

I turned, and found the old American gentleman at my side. 

"I can see a change in the appearance of these Falls, " he continued, "since I visited them some forty years ago. Time changes everything; Ifeel that I am changed since then. I was young and active, and clamberedabout these rugged banks with the careless hardihood of a boy who pantsfor excitement and adventure, and how I enjoyed my visit to this place!A change has taken place--I can scarcely describe in what respect; butit looks to me very different to what it did then. "

"Perhaps, " I suggested, "the fall of that large portion of thetable-rock has made the alteration you describe. "

"You have just hit it, " he said; "I forgot the circumstance. TheHorse-shoe is not so perfect as it was. "

"Could these Falls ever have receded from Queenstone?" said I. 

He turned to me with a quick smile--"If they have, my dear Madam, theworld is much older by thousands of ages than we give it credit for;but--" continued he, gazing at the mighty object in dispute, "it ispossible that these Falls are of more recent date than the creation ofthe world. An earthquake may have rent the deep chasm that forms the bedof that river, and in a few seconds of time the same cause might breakdown that mighty barrier, and drain the upper lakes, by converting alarge part of your fine province into another inland sea. But this isall theory. Fancy, you know, is free, and I often amuse myself byspeculating on these things. "

"Your daughter, I hope, is not ill, " I said; "I did not see her at tealast night with her little son. "

Instead of his usual shrewd smile, the old man laughed heartily. "So youtake that young lady for my daughter!"

"Is she not? The child, however, must be your grandson, for he is thepicture of you. "

"I flatter myself that he is. That young lady is my wife--that littleboy my son. Isn't he a fine clever little chap?" and his keen grey eyebrightened at the growing promise of his boy. "I have another youngerthan him. "

"Heavens!" thought I, "what a mistake I have made! How M--- will laughat me, and how delighted this old man seems with my confusion!" Iam always making these odd blunders. Not long ago I mistook a veryold-looking young man for his father, and congratulated him on hisdaughter's marriage; and asked a young bride who was returning hercalls, and who greatly resembled a married cousin who lived in the sametown, _how her baby was?_ And now I had taken a man's wife for hisdaughter his son for a grandson. But I comforted myself with the ideathat the vast disparity between their ages was some excuse, and soslipped past one of the horns of that dilemma. 

As soon as we had taken breakfast, we set off in company with theAmerican and his little boy to pay a visit to Goat Island, and look atthe Falls from the American side. The child fully realized his father'sdescription. He was a charming, frank, graceful boy, full of life andintelligence, and enjoyed the excitement of crossing the river, and thebeauties it revealed to us, with a keen appreciation of the scene, which would have been incomprehensible to some of the wonder-seekerswe had met the day before. All nature contributed to heighten ourenjoyment. The heavens were so blue and cloudless, the air so clearand transparent, the changing tints on the autumnal foliage so rich, the sun so bright and warm, that we seemed surrounded by an enchantedatmosphere, and the very consciousness of existence was delightful; but, with those descending floods of light towering above us, and filling theechoing shores with their sublime melody, we were doubly blessed!

When our little boat touched the American shore, the question arose asto which method would be the best to adopt in ascending the giddyheight. A covered way leads to the top of the bank, which is more thantwo hundred feet in perpendicular height. Up this steep our ingeniousneighbours have constructed on an inclined plane of boards a railway, onwhich two cars run in such a manner that the weight of the descendingcar draws up the other to the top of the bank. Both are secured by astrong cable. By the side of this railway, and under the same roof, 200 steps lead to the road above. I was too weak to attempt theformidable flight of steps; and though I felt rather cowardly whilelooking at the giddy ascent of the cars, there was no alternativebetween choosing one or the other, or remaining behind. The American andhis little boy were already in the car, and I took my seat behind them. When we were half-way, the question rose in my mind--"What if the cableshould give way, where should we land?" "You'll know that when the tailbreaks, " as the Highlander said when holding on to the wild boar; andI shut my eyes, determined not to disturb my mind or waken my fears byanother glance below. 

"Why do you shut your eyes?" said the American. "I thought the Englishwere all brave. "

"I never was a coward till after I came to North America, " said I, laughing; and I felt that I ought to be as brave as a lion, and notinjure the reputation of my glorious country by such childish fears. 

When the car stopped, we parted company with the American and his bravelittle son. He had friends to visit in Manchester, and I saw them nomore. 

Our path lay through a pretty shady grove to the village. Groups ofIndian women and children were reposing beneath the shade of the trees, working at their pretty wares, which they offered for sale as we passedby. Following the winding of the road, we crossed a rural bridge, fromwhich we enjoyed a fine view of the glorious Rapids, and entered GoatIsland. 

This beautiful spot is still in forest, but the underbrush has beencleared away, and a path cut entirely round it. The trunks of thesetrees are entirely covered with the names and initials of persons who atdifferent times have visited the spot, and they present the most curiousappearance. 

After a few minutes' walk through the wood, we reached the bank of theriver, which here is not very high, and is covered with evergreenshrubs and wild flowers; and here the wide world of tumbling watersare flashing and foaming in the sunlight--leaping and racing round therocky, pine-covered islands, that vainly oppose their frantic course. Oh, how I longed to stem their unstemmed tides; to land upon those magicislands which the foot of man or beast never trod, whose beauty andverdure are guarded by the stern hand of death! The Falls are morewonderful, but not more beautiful, than this sublime confusion and dinof waters--

 "Of glad rejoicing waters, Of living leaping waters. "

Their eternal voice and motion might truly be termed the "joy of waves. "

On the American Side, the view of the great cataracts is not so awfuland overwhelming, but they are more beautiful in detail, and present somany exquisite pictures to the eye. They are more involved in mystery, as it were; and so much is left for the imagination to combine intoevery varied form of beauty. You look down into the profound abyss; youare wetted with that shower of silvery spray that rises higher than thetree tops, and which gives you in that soft rain an actual consciousnessof its living presence. 

I did not cross the bridge, which extends within a few yards of thegreat plunge, or climb to the top of the tower; for my strength hadso entirely failed me, that it was with difficulty I could retrace mysteps. I sat for about an hour beneath the shadow of the trees, feastingmy soul with beauty; and with reluctance, that drew tears from my eyes, bade adieu to the enchanting spot--not for ever, I hope, for should Godprolong my life, I shall try and visit the Falls again. Like everyperfect work, the more frequently and closely they are examined, themore wonderful they must appear; the mind and eye can never weary ofsuch an astonishing combination of sublimity and power. 

We stopped at a pretty cottage at the edge of the wood to get a glass ofwater, and to buy some peaches. For these we had to pay treble the priceat which they could be procured at Toronto; but they proved a deliciousrefreshment, the day was very warm, and I was parched with thirst. Hadtime permitted, I should have enjoyed greatly a ramble through the town;as it was, my brief acquaintance with the American shores left a verypleasing impression on my mind. 

The little that I have seen of intelligent, well-educated Americans, hasgiven me a very high opinion of the people. Britain may be proud ofthese noble scions from the parent tree, whose fame, like her own, isdestined to fill the world. "The great daughter of a great mother, "America claims renown for her lawful inheritance; and it is to be deeplyregretted that any petty jealousy or party feeling should ever create arivalry between countries so closely united by the ties of blood; whoseorigin, language, religion and genius are the same; whose industry, energy, and perseverance, derived from their British sires, haveprocured for them the lofty position they hold, and made themindependent of the despots of earth. 

The Land Of Our Birth. 

 "There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth, So dear to the heart as the land of our birth; 'Tis the home of our childhood! the beautiful spot By mem'ry retain'd when all else is forgot. May the blessing of God Ever hallow the sod, And its valleys and hills by our children be trode!

 "Can the language of strangers, in accents unknown, Send a thrill to the bosom like that of our own! The face may be fair, and the smile may be bland, But it breathes not the tones of our dear native land. There's no spot on earth Like the home of our birth, Where heroes keep guard o'er the altar and hearth. 

 "How sweet is the language that taught us to blend The dear names of father, of husband, and friend; That taught us to lisp on our mother's fond breast, The ballads she sang as she rock'd us to rest! May the blessing of God Ever hallow the sod, And its valleys and hills by our children be trode!

 "May old England long lift her white crest o'er the wave, The birth-place of science, the home of the brave! In her cities may peace and prosperity dwell! May her daughters in beauty and virtue excel! May their beauty and worth Bless the land of their birth, While heroes keep guard o'er the altar and hearth!"

CHAPTER XIX

Conclusion

 "Why dost thou fear to speak the honest truth? Speak boldly, fearlessly, what thou think'st right, And time shall justify thy words and thee!" S. M. 

We left Niagara at noon. A very pleasant drive brought us to Queenstone, and we stepped on board the "Chief Justice" steamboat, that had justtouched the wharf, and was on her return trip to Toronto. 

Tired and ill, I was glad to lie down in one of the berths in theladies' cabin to rest, and, if possible, to obtain a little sleep. This I soon found was out of the question. Two or three noisy, spoiledchildren kept up a constant din; and their grandmother, a verynice-looking old lady, who seemed nurse-general to them all, endeavouredin vain to keep them quiet. Their mother was reading a novel, and tookit very easy; reclining on a comfortable sofa, she left her old motherall the fatigue of taking care of the children, and waiting uponherself. 

This is by no means an uncommon trait of Canadian character. In familiesbelonging more especially to the middle class, who have raisedthemselves from a lower to a higher grade, the mother, if left in poorcircumstances, almost invariably holds a subordinate position in herwealthier son or daughter's family. She superintends the servants, andnurses the younger children; and her time is occupied by a number ofminute domestic labours, that allow her very little rest in her old age. 

I have seen the grandmother in a wealthy family ironing the fine linen, or broiling over the cook-stove, while her daughter held her place inthe drawing-room. How differently in my own country are these thingsordered! where the most tender attention is paid to the aged, all theirwants studied, and their comfort regarded as a sacred thing. 

Age in Canada is seldom honoured. You would imagine it almost a crimefor any one to grow old--with such slighting, cold indifference are theaged treated by the young and strong. It is not unusual to hear a ladspeak of his father, perhaps, in the prime of life, as the "old fellow, "the "old boy, " and to address a grey-haired man in this disrespectfuland familiar manner. This may not be apparent to the natives themselves, but it never fails to strike every stranger that visits the colony. 

To be a servant is a lot sufficiently hard--to have all your actionsdictated to you by the will of another--to enjoy no rest or recreation, but such as is granted as a very great favour; but to be a humbledependent in old age on children, to whom all the best years of yourlife were devoted with all the energy of maternal love, must be sadindeed. But they submit with great apparent cheerfulness, and seem tothink it necessary to work for the shelter of a child's roof, and thebread they eat. 

The improved circumstances of families, whose parents, in the firstsettlement of the country, had to work very hard for their generalmaintenance, may be the cause of this inversion of moral duties, andthe parents not being considered properly on an equality with theirbetter dressed and better educated offspring; but from whatever causeit springs, the effect it produces on the mind of a stranger is verypainful. It is difficult to feel much respect for any one who looks downupon father or mother as an inferior being, and, as such, considers thembetter qualified to perform the coarse drudgeries of life. Time, wehope, will remedy this evil, with many others of the same class. 

There was a bride, too, on board--a very delicate looking young woman, who was returning from a tour in the States to her native village. Sheseemed very much to dread the ordeal she had yet to pass through--insitting dressed up for a whole week to receive visitors. Nor did I inthe least wonder at her repugnance to go through this trying piece ofceremonial, which is absolutely indispensable in Canada. 

The Monday after the bride and bridegroom make their first appearance atchurch, every person in the same class prepares to pay them a visit ofcongratulation; and if the town is large, and the parties well known, the making of visits to the bride lasts to the end of the week. 

The bride, who is often a young girl from sixteen to twenty years ofage, is doomed for this period to sit upon a sofa or reclined in an easychair, dressed in the most expensive manner, to receive her guests. 

Well she knows that herself, her dress, the furniture of her room, evenher cake and wine, will undergo the most minute scrutiny, and be thetheme of conversation among all the gossips of the place for the nextnine days. No wonder that she feels nervous, and that her manners areconstrained, and that nothing looks easy or natural about her, from herneck-ribbon to her shoe-tie. 

"Have you seen the bride yet? What do you think of her? How was shedressed? Is she tall, or short? Pretty, or plain? Stupid, or clever?Lively, or quiet?" are all questions certain to be asked, and answeredaccording to the taste and judgment of the parties to whom they areput; besides those thousand little interludes which spring from envy, ill-nature, and all uncharitableness. The week following they, incourtesy, must return all these visits; and, oh, what a relief it mustbe when all this stiff complimentary nonsense is over, and they areonce more at home to themselves and their own particular friends!

There is another custom, peculiar to Canada and the United States, whichI cordially approve, and should be very much grieved for itsdiscontinuance. 

On New-Year's day all the gentlemen in the place call upon theirfriends, to wish them a happy new year, and to exchange friendlygreetings with the ladies of the family, who are always in readinessto receive them, and make them a return for these marks of neighbourlyregard, in the substantial form of rich cakes, fruit, wine, coffee, andtea. It is generally a happy, cheerful day; all faces wear a smile, oldquarrels are forgotten, and every one seems anxious to let ill-will andheart-burnings die with the old year. 

A gentleman who wishes to drop an inconvenient acquaintance, has only toomit calling upon his friend's wife and daughters on New-Year's day, without making a suitable apology for the omission of this usual act ofcourtesy, and the hint is acknowledged by a direct cut the next time theparties meet in public. 

It is an especial frolic for all the lads who have just returnedfrom school or college to enjoy their Christmas holidays. Cakes andsweetmeats are showered upon them in abundance, and they feel themselvesof vast importance, while paying their compliments to the ladies, andrunning from house to house, with their brief congratulatory address--"Iwish you all a happy New Year!"

It would be a thousand pities if this affectionate, time-honoured, hospitable custom, should be swept away by the march of modernimprovement. Some ladies complain that it gives a number of vulgar, underbred men the opportunity of introducing themselves to the noticeand company of their daughters. There may be some reasonable truthin this remark; but after all it is but for one day, and the kindlygreetings exchanged are more productive of good than evil. 

The evening of New-Year's day is generally devoted to dancing parties, when the young especially meet to enjoy themselves. 

The Wesleyan Methodists always "pray the old year out and the new yearin, " as it is termed here, and they could not celebrate its advent in amore rational and improving manner. Their midnight anthem of praise is asacred and beautiful offering to Him, whose vast existence is not metedout like ours, and measured by days and years. 

Large parties given to very young children, which are so common in thiscountry, are very pernicious in the way in which they generally operateupon youthful minds. They foster the passions of vanity and envy, andproduce a love of dress and display which is very repulsive in thecharacter of a child. Little girls who are in the constant habit ofattending these parties, soon exchange the natural manners and franksimplicity so delightful at their age, for the confidence and flippancyof women long hacked in the ways of the world. 

For some time after I settled in the town, I was not myself aware thatany evil could exist in a harmless party of children playing togetherat the house of a mutual friend. But observation has convinced me thatI was in error; that these parties operate like a forcing bed uponyoung plants, with this difference, that they bring to maturity theseeds of _evil_, instead of those of goodness and virtue, and that achild accustomed to the heated atmosphere of pleasure, is not likely inmaturer years to enjoy the pure air and domestic avocations of home. 

These juvenile parties appear to do less mischief to boys than to girls. They help to humanize the one, and to make heartless coquets of theother. The boys meet for a down-right romping play with each other; thegirls to be caressed and admired, to show off their fine dresses, andto gossip about the dress and appearance of their neighbours. 

I know that I shall be called hard-hearted for this assertion; but it istrue. I have frequently witnessed what I relate, both at my own houseand the houses of others; and those who will take the pains to listento the conversation of these miniature women, will soon yield a willingassent to my observations, and keep their little ones apart from suchscenes, in the pure atmosphere of home. The garden or the green fieldis the best place for children, who can always derive entertainmentand instruction from nature and her beautiful works. Left to their ownchoice, the gay party would be a _bore_, far less entertaining than a gameof blind-man's buff in the school-room, when lessons were over. It isthe vanity of parents that fosters the same spirit in their children. 

The careless, disrespectful manner often used in this country bychildren to their parents, is an evil which in all probabilityoriginates in this early introduction of young people into the mysteriesof society. They imagine themselves persons of consequence, and thattheir opinion is quite equal in weight to the experience and superiorknowledge of their elders. We cannot imagine a more revolting sight thana young lad presuming to treat his father with disrespect and contempt, and daring presumptuously to contradict him before ignorant idlers likehimself. 

"You are wrong, Sir; it is not so"--"Mamma, that is not true; I knowbetter, " are expressions which I have heard with painful surprise fromyoung people in this country; and the parents have sunk into silence, evidently abashed at the reproof of an insolent child. 

These remarks are made with no ill-will, but with a sincere hope thatthey may prove beneficial to the community at large, and be the means ofremoving some of the evils which are to be found in our otherwisepleasant and rapidly-improving society. 

I know that it would be easier for me to gain the approbation of theCanadian public, by exaggerating the advantages to be derived from asettlement in the colony, by praising all the good qualities of herpeople, and by throwing a flattering veil over their defects; but thisis not my object, and such servile adulation would do them no good, anddegrade me in my own eyes. I have written what I consider to be thetruth, and as such I hope it may do good, by preparing the minds ofemigrants for what they will _really find_, rather than by holdingout fallacious hopes that can never be realized. 

In "Roughing it in the Bush, " I gave an honest personal statement of_facts_. I related nothing but what had really happened; and ifillustrations were wanting of persons who had suffered _as much_, and beenreduced to the same straits, I could furnish a dozen volumes withouthaving to travel many hundred miles for subjects. 

We worked hard and struggled manfully with overwhelming difficulties, yet I have been abused most unjustly by the Canadian papers forrevealing some of the mysteries of the Backwoods. Not one word was said_against the country_ in my book, as was falsely asserted. It waswritten as a warning to well-educated persons not to settle inlocalities for which they were unfitted by their _previous habits andeducation_. In this I hoped to confer a service both on them andCanada; for the _prosperous_ settlement of such persons on clearedfarms must prove more beneficial to the colony than their _ruin in thebush_. 

It was likewise very cruelly and falsely asserted, that I had spoken illof the _Irish people_, because I described the revolting scene wewitnessed at Grosse Isle, the actors in which were principally Irishemigrants of the _very lowest class_. Had I been able to give the wholedetails of what we saw on that island, the terms applied to the peoplewho furnished such disgusting pictures would have been echoed by theirown countrymen. This was one of those cases in which it was _impossible_to reveal the _whole truth_. 

The few Irish characters that occur in my narrative have been drawn withan _affectionate_, not a malignant hand. We had very few Irish settlersround us in the bush, and to them I never owed the least obligation. Thecontrary of this has been asserted, and I am accused of _ingratitude_ byone editor for benefits I never received, and which I was too proud toask, always preferring to work with my own hands, rather than to _borrow_or _beg_ from others. All the kind acts of courtesy I received from the_poor Indians_ this gentleman thought fit to turn over to the Irish, inorder to hold me up as a monster of ingratitude to his countrymen. 

In the case of Jenny Buchannon and John Monaghan, _the only two Irishpeople_ with whom I had anything to do, the benefits were surely mutual. Monaghan came to us a runaway apprentice, --not, by-the-bye, the bestrecommendation for a servant. We received him starving and ragged, paidhim good wages, and treated him with great kindness. The boy turnedout a grateful and attached creature, which cannot possible confer theopposite character upon us. 

_Jenny's love and affection_ will sufficiently prove _our ingratitude_to _her_. To the good qualities of these people I have done ample justice. In what, then, does my ingratitude to the _Irish people_ consist? I shouldfeel much obliged to the writer in the _London Observer_ to enlighten meon this head, or those editors of Canadian papers, who, without readingfor themselves, servilely copied a _falsehood_. 

It is easy to pervert people's words, and the facts they may represent, to their injury; and what I have said on the subject of education maygive a handle to persons who delight in misrepresenting the opinions ofothers, to accuse me of republican principles; I will, therefore, say afew words on this subject, which I trust will exonerate me from thisimputation. 

That all men, morally speaking, are equal in the eyes of their Maker, appears to me a self-evident fact, though some may be called by Hisprovidence to rule, and others to serve. That the welfare of the mosthumble should be as dear to the country to which he belongs as the besteducated and the most wealthy, seems but reasonable to a reflectivemind, who looks upon man as a responsible and immortal creature; but, that _perfect equality_ can exist in a world where the labour of man isrequired to procure the common necessaries of life--where the industryof one will create wealth, and the sloth of another induce poverty--wecannot believe. 

Some master spirit will rule, and the masses will bow down to superiorintellect, and the wealth and importance which such minds never fail toacquire. The laws must be enforced, and those to whom the charge of themis committed will naturally exercise authority, and demand respect. 

Perfect equality never did exist upon earth. The old republics were moredespotic and exclusive in their separation of the different grades thanmodern monarchies; and in the most enlightened, that of Greece, theplague spot of slavery was found. The giant republic, whose risinggreatness throws into shade the once august names of Greece and Rome, suffers this heart-corroding leprosy to cleave to her vitals, and sullyher fair fame, making her boasted vaunt of _equality_ a base lie--thescorn of all Christian men. 

They thrust the enfranchised African from their public tables--bornbeneath their own skies, a native of their own soil, a free citizen bytheir own Declaration of Independence; yet exclaim, in the face of this_black_ injustice--"Our people enjoy equal rights. " Alas! for Columbia's_sable sons!_ Where is their equality? On what footing do they stand withtheir white brethren? What value do they place upon the negro beyond hisprice in dollars and cents? Yet is he equal in the sight of Him who gavehim a rational soul, and afforded him the means of attaining eternallife. 

We are advocates for _equality of mind_--for a commonwealth of intellect;we earnestly hope for it, ardently pray for it, and we feel a confidentbelief in the possibility of our theory. We look forward to the daywhen honest labour will be made honourable; when he who serves, and hewho commands, will rejoice in this freedom of soul together; when bothmaster and servant will enjoy a reciprocal communion of mind, withoutlessening the respect due from the one to the other. 

But equality of station is a dream--an error which is hourlycontradicted by reality. As the world is at present constituted, such astate of things is impossible. The rich and the educated will never lookupon the poor and ignorant as their equals; and the voice of the public, that is ever influenced by wealth and power, will bear them out in theirdecision. 

The country is not yet in existence that can present us a bettergovernment and wiser institutions than the British. Long may Canadarecognise her rule, and rejoice in her sway! Should she ever be sounwise as to relinquish the privileges she enjoys under the sovereigntyof the mother country, she may seek protection _nearer_ and _fare worse!_The sorrows and trials that I experienced during my first eight years'residence in Canada, have been more than counterbalanced by theremaining twelve of comfort and peace. I have long felt the deepestinterest in her prosperity and improvement. I no longer regard myself asan alien on her shores, but her daughter by adoption, --the happy motherof Canadian children, --rejoicing in the warmth and hospitality of aCanadian Home!

May the blessing of God rest upon the land! and her people ever prosperunder a religious, liberal, and free government!

For London. A National Song. 

 "For London! for London! how oft has that cry From the blue waves of ocean been wafted on high, When the tar through the grey mist that mantled the tide, The white cliffs of England with rapture descried, And the sight of his country awoke in his heart Emotions no object save home can impart! For London! for London! the home of the free, There's no part in the world, royal London, like thee!

 "Old London! what ages have glided away, Since cradled in rushes thy infancy lay! In thy rude huts of timber the proud wings lay furl'd Of a spirit whose power now o'ershadows the world, And the brave chiefs who built and defended those towers, Were the sires of this glorious old city of ours. For London! for London! the home of the free, There's no city on earth, royal London, like thee!

 "The Roman, the Saxon, the Norman, the Dane, Have in turn sway'd thy sceptre, thou queen of the main! Their spirits though diverse, uniting made one, Of nations the noblest beneath yon bright sun; With the genius of each, and the courage of all, No foeman dare plant hostile flag on thy wall. For London! for London! the home of the free, There's no city on earth, royal London, like thee!

 "Old Thames rolls his waters in pride at thy feet, And wafts to earth's confines thy riches and fleet; Thy temples and towers, like a crown on the wave, Are hail'd with a thrill of delight by the brave, When, returning triumphant from conquests afar, They wreathe round thy altars the trophies of war. For London! for London! the home of the free, There's no part in the world, royal London, like thee!

 "Oh, London! when we, who exulting behold Thy splendour and wealth, in the dust shall be cold, May sages, and heroes, and patriots unborn, Thy altars defend, and thy annals adorn! May thy power be supreme on the land of the brave, The feeble to succour, the fallen to save, And the sons and the daughters now cradled by thee, Find no city on earth like the home of the free!"