The men wink at these
derelictions in their wives, and share with them the price of
their shame.
The mixture of European blood adds greatly to the physical beauty
of the half-race, but produces a sad falling-off from the original
integrity of the Indian character. The half-caste is generally a
lying, vicious rogue, possessing the worst qualities of both parents
in an eminent degree. We have many of these half-Indians in the
penitentiary, for crimes of the blackest dye.
The skill of the Indian in procuring his game, either by land or
water, has been too well described by better writers than I could
ever hope to be to need any illustration from my pen, and I will
close this long chapter with a droll anecdote which is told of a
gentleman in this neighbourhood.
The early loss of his hair obliged Mr. - - to procure the substitute
of a wig. This was such a good imitation of nature, that none but
his intimate friends and neighbours were aware of the fact.
It happened that he had had some quarrel with an Indian, which had
to be settled in one of the petty courts. The case was decided in
favour of Mr. - -, which so aggrieved the savage, who considered
himself the injured party, that he sprang upon him with a furious
yell, tomahawk in hand, with the intention of depriving him of his
scalp. He twisted his hand in the looks which adorned the cranium of
his adversary, when - horror of horrors! - the treacherous wig came
off in his hand, "Owgh! owgh!" exclaimed the affrighted savage,
flinging it from him, and rushing from the court as if he had been
bitten by a rattlesnake. His sudden exit was followed by peals of
laughter from the crowd, while Mr. - - coolly picked up his wig,
and drily remarked that it had saved his head.
THE INDIAN FISHERMAN'S LIGHT
The air is still, the night is dark,
No ripple breaks the dusky tide;
From isle to isle the fisher's bark
Like fairy meteor seems to glide;
Now lost in shade - now flashing bright
On sleeping wave and forest tree;
We hail with joy the ruddy light,
Which far into the darksome night
Shines red and cheerily!
With spear high poised, and steady hand,
The centre of that fiery ray,
Behold the Indian fisher stand
Prepared to strike the finny prey;
Hurrah! the shaft has sped below -
Transfix'd the shining prize I see;
On swiftly darts the birch canoe;
Yon black rock shrouding from my view
Its red light gleaming cheerily!
Around yon bluff, whose pine crest hides
The noisy rapids from our sight,
Another bark - another glides -
Red meteors of the murky night.
The bosom of the silent stream
With mimic stars is dotted free;
The waves reflect the double gleam,
The tall woods lighten in the beam,
Through darkness shining cheerily!
CHAPTER XVI
BURNING THE FALLOW
There is a hollow roaring in the air -
The hideous hissing of ten thousand flames,
That from the centre of yon sable cloud
Leap madly up, like serpents in the dark,
Shaking their arrowy tongues at Nature's heart.
It is not my intention to give a regular history of our residence
in the bush, but merely to present to my readers such events as
may serve to illustrate a life in the woods.
The winter and spring of 1834 had passed away. The latter was
uncommonly cold and backward; so much so that we had a very heavy
fall of snow upon the 14th and 15th of May, and several gentlemen
drove down to Cobourg in a sleigh, the snow lying upon the ground
to the depth of several inches.
A late, cold spring in Canada is generally succeeded by a burning
hot summer; and the summer of '34 was the hottest I ever remember.
No rain fell upon the earth for many weeks, till nature drooped and
withered beneath one bright blaze of sunlight; and the ague and
fever in the woods, and the cholera in the large towns and cities,
spread death and sickness through the country.
Moodie had made during the winter a large clearing of twenty acres
around the house. The progress of the workmen had been watched by me
with the keenest interest. Every tree that reached the ground opened
a wider gap in the dark wood, giving us a broader ray of light and
a clearer glimpse of the blue sky. But when the dark cedar-swamp
fronting the house fell beneath the strokes of the axe, and we got
a first view of the lake, my joy was complete; a new and beautiful
object was now constantly before me, which gave me the greatest
pleasure. By night and day, in sunshine or in storm, water is
always the most sublime feature in a landscape, and no view can be
truly grand in which it is wanting. From a child, it always had the
most powerful effect upon my mind, from the great ocean rolling
in majesty, to the tinkling forest rill, hidden by the flowers
and rushes along its banks. Half the solitude of my forest home
vanished when the lake unveiled its bright face to the blue heavens,
and I saw sun and moon, and stars and waving trees reflected there.
I would sit for hours at the window as the shades of evening
deepened round me, watching the massy foliage of the forests
pictured in the waters, till fancy transported me back to England,
and the songs of birds and the lowing of cattle were sounding in my
ears. It was long, very long, before I could discipline my mind to
learn and practice all the menial employments which are necessary
in a good settler's wife.
