Emerging from
this, we came upon a little whitewashed English church, standing upon a
steep knoll, with its little spire rising through the trees; and leaving
this behind, we turned off upon a road through very wild country.
The
ground had once been cleared, but no use had been made of it, and it was
covered with charred stumps about two feet high. Beyond this appeared an
interminable bush. Mr. Forrest told me that his house was near, and, from
the appearance of the country, I expected to come upon a log cabin; but we
turned into a field, and drove under some very fine apple-trees to a house
the very perfection of elegance and comfort. It looked as if a pretty
villa from Norwood or Hampstead had been transported to this Canadian
clearing. The dwelling was a substantially built brick one-storied house,
with a deep green verandah surrounding it, as a protection from the snow
in winter and the heat in summer. Apple-trees, laden with richly-coloured
fruit, were planted round, and sumach-trees, in all the glorious colouring
of the fall, were opposite the front door. The very house seemed to smile
a welcome; and seldom have I met a more cordial one than I received from
Mrs. Forrest, the kindly and graceful hostess, who met me at the door, her
pretty simple dress of pink and white muslin contrasting strangely with
the charred stumps which were in sight, and the long lines of gloomy bush
which stood out dark and sharp against the evening sky.
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