The Next Morning At Seven We Left His Humble Home, Where Such Hospitality
Had Awaited Us, And He Accompanied Us To The River.
He returned to his
honourable work - I shortly afterwards went to the United States - another
of the party is with the Turkish army in the Crimea - and the youngest is
married in a distant land.
For several hours we passed through lovely
scenery, on one of the loveliest mornings I ever saw. We stopped at the
hut of an old Highland woman, who was "terribly glad" to see us, and
gave us some milk; and we came up with a sturdy little barefooted urchin
of eight years old, carrying a basket. "What's your name?" we asked. "Mr.
Crazier," was the bold and complacent reply.
At noon we reached St. Eleanor's, rather a large village, where we met
with great hospitality for two days at the house of a keeper of a small
store, who had married the lively and accomplished daughter of an English
clergyman. The two Irish servant-girls were ill, but she said she should
be delighted to receive us if we would help her to do the household work.
The same afternoon we drove to the house of a shipbuilder at a little
hamlet called Greenshore, and went out lobster-fishing in his beautiful
boat. The way of fishing for these creatures was a novel one to me, but so
easy that a mere novice may be very successful. We tied sinks to
mackerel, and let them down in six fathoms water. We gently raised them
now and then, and, if we felt anything pulling the bait, raised it slowly
up. Gently, gently, or the fish suspects foul play; but soon, just under
the surface, I saw an immense lobster, and one of the gentlemen caught it
by the tail and threw it into the boat. We fished for an hour, and caught
fifteen of these esteemed creatures, which we took to the house in a
wheelbarrow. At night we drove to St. Eleanor's, taking some of our spoil
with us, and immediately adjourned to the kitchen, a large, unfinished
place built of logs, with a clay floor and huge smoke-stained rafters. We
sat by a large stove in the centre, and looked as if we had never known
civilised life. Miss Kenjins and I sat on either side of the fireplace in
broad-brimmed straw hats, Mrs. Maccallummore in front, warming the feet of
the unhappy baby, who bad been a passive spectator of the fishing; the
three gentlemen stood round in easy attitudes, these, be it remembered,
holding glasses of brandy and water; and the two invalid servants stood
behind, occasionally uttering suppressed shrieks as Mr. Oppe took one out
of a heap of lobsters and threw it into a caldron of boiling water on the
stove. This strange scene was illuminated by a blazing pine-knot. Mr.
Kenjins laughingly reminded me of the elegant drawing-room in which he
last saw me in England - "Look on this picture and on that."
On the Sunday we crossed the Grand River, on a day so stormy that the
ferryman would not take the "scow" across. We rowed ourselves over in a
crazy boat, which seemed about to fill and sink when we got to the middle
of the river, and attended service at Port Hill, one of the most desolate-
looking places I ever saw. We saw Lenox Island, where on St. Ann's day all
the island Indians meet and go through ceremonies with the Romish priests.
We remained for part of the next day with our hospitable friends at St.
Eleanor's, and set out on an exploring expedition in search of a spring
which Mr. K. remembered in his childish days. We went down to a lonely
cabin to make inquiries, and were told that "none but the old people knew
of it - it was far away in the woods." Here was mystery; so, leaving the
waggon, into the woods we went to seek for it, and far away in the woods
we found it, and now others besides the "old people" know of it.
We struck into the forest, an old, untrodden forest, where generations of
trees had rotted away, and strange flowers and lichens grew, and bats flew
past us in the artificial darkness; and there were snakes too, ugly
spotted things, which hissed at us, and put out their double tongues, and
then coiled themselves away in the dim recesses of the forest. But on we
went, climbing with difficulty over prostrate firs, or breaking through
matted juniper, and still the spring was not, though we were "far away in
the woods." But still we climbed on, through swamp and jungle, till we
tore our dresses to pieces, and our hats got pulled off in a tree and some
of our hair with them; but at last we reached the spring. It was such a
scene as one might have dreamed of in some forest in a fabulous Elysium.
It was a large, deep basin of pure white sand, covered with clear water,
and seven powerful springs, each about a foot high, rose from it; and
trees had fallen over it, and were covered with bright green moss, and
others bent over it ready to fall; and above them the tall hemlocks shut
out the light, except where a few stray beams glittered on the pure
transparent water.
And here it lay in lonely beauty, as it had done for centuries, probably
known only to the old people and to the wandering Indians. In enterprising
England a town would have been built round it, and we should have had
cheap excursions to the "Baths of St. Eleanor's."
In the evening we went to the house of Mr. Oppe at Bedeque, but not
finding him at home we presumed on colonial hospitality so far as to put
our horse in the stable and unpack our clothes; and when Mr. Oppe returned
he found us playing at draughts, and joined us in a hearty laugh at our
coolness.
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