Canadian Crusoes

C >> Catherine Parr Traill >> Canadian Crusoes

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Time passes on--years, long years have gone by since the return of the lost
children to their homes, and many changes have those years effected. The
log-houses have fallen to decay--a growth of young pines, a waste of
emerald turf with the charred logs that once formed part of the enclosure,
now, hardly serve to mark out the old settlement--no trace or record
remains of the first breakers of the bush, another race occupy the ground.
The traveller as he passes along on that smooth turnpike road that leads
from Coburg to Cold Springs, and from thence to Gore's Landing, may notice
a green waste by the road-side on either hand, and fancy that thereabouts
our Canadian Crusoes' home once stood--he sees the lofty wood-crowned
hill, and sees in spring-time, for in summer it is hidden by the luxuriant
foliage, the little forest creek, and he may if thirsty, taste of the pure
fresh icy water, as it still wells out from a spring in the steep bank,
rippling through the little cedar-trough that Louis Perron placed there
for the better speed of his mother when filling her water jug. All else is
gone. And what wrought the change?--a few words will suffice to tell. Some
travelling fur merchants brought the news to Donald Maxwell, that a party
of Highlanders had made a settlement above Montreal, and among them were
some of his kindred. The old soldier resolved to join them, and it was not
hard to prevail upon his brother-in-law to accompany him, for they were all
now weary of living so far from their fellow-men; and bidding farewell to
the little log-houses at Cold Springs, they now journeyed downwards to the
new settlement, where they were gladly received, their long experience of
the country making their company a most valuable acquisition to the new
colonists.

Not long after the Maxwells took possession of a grant of land, and cleared
and built for themselves and their family. That year Hector, now a fine
industrious young man, presented at the baptismal font as a candidate for
baptism, the Indian girl, and then received at the altar his newly baptized
bride. As to Catharine and Louis, I am not sufficiently skilled in the laws
of their church to tell how the difficulty of nearness of kin was obviated,
but they were married on the same day as Hector and Indiana, and lived a
happy and prosperous life; and often by their fireside would delight their
children by recounting the history of their wanderings on the Rice Lake
Plains.

APPENDIX

APPENDIX A.--_Preface._

Page vii.

Sarah Campbell, of Windsor, who was lost in the woods on the 11th of
August, 1848, returned to her home on the 31st, having been absent
twenty-one days. A friend has sent us a circumstantial account of her
wanderings, of the efforts made in her behalf, and her return home, from
which we condense the following statements:--

It appears that on the 11th of August, in company with two friends, she
went fishing on the north branch of Windsor-brook; and that on attempting
to return she became separated from her companions, who returned to her
mother's, the Widow Campbell, expecting to find her at home. Several of her
neighbours searched for her during the night, without success. The search
was continued during Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, by some fifty or sixty
individuals, and although her tracks, and those of a dog which accompanied
her, were discovered, no tidings of the girl were obtained. A general
sympathy for the afflicted widow and her lost daughter was excited, and
notwithstanding the busy season of the year, great numbers from Windsor and
the neighbouring townships of Brompton, Shipton, Melbourne, Durham, Oxford,
Sherbrooke, Lennoxville, Stoke, and Dudswell, turned out with provisions
and implements for camping in the woods, in search of the girl, which was
kept up without intermission for about fourteen days, when it was generally
given up, under the impression that she must have died, either from
starvation, or the inclemency of the weather, it having rained almost
incessantly for nearly a week of the time. On the 3lst her brother returned
home from Massachusetts, and with two or three others renewed the search,
but returned the second day, and learned to their great joy that the lost
one had found her way home the evening previous.

On hearing of her return, our correspondent made a visit to Widow Campbell,
to hear from her daughter the story of her wanderings. She was found,
as might be supposed, in a very weak and exhausted condition, but quite
rational, as it seems she had been during the whole period of her absence.
From her story the following particulars were gathered:--

When first lost she went directly from home down "Open Brooke," to a
meadow, about a mile distant from where she had left her companions, which
she mistook for what is called the "_Oxias_ opening," a mile distant in
the opposite direction. On Sabbath morning, knowing that she was lost, and
having heard that lost persons might be guided by the sun, she undertook
to follow the sun during the day. In the morning she directed her steps
towards the East, crossed the north Branch, mistaking it for "Open Brooke,"
and travelled, frequently running, in a south-east direction (her way home
was due north) seven or eight miles till she came to the great Hay-meadow
in Windsor. There she spent Sabbath night, and on Monday morning directed
her course to, and thence down, the South Branch in the great Meadow.

After this, she appears to have spent her time, except while she was
searching for food for herself and dog, in walking and running over
the meadow, and up and down the south branch, in search of her home,
occasionally wandering upon the highlands, and far down towards the
junction of the two main streams, never being more than seven or eight
miles from home.

For several days, by attempting to follow the sun, she travelled in a
circle, finding herself at night near the place where she left in the
morning. Although she often came across the tracks of large parties of men,
and their recently-erected camps, and knew that multitudes of people were
in search of her, she saw no living person, and heard no sound of trumpet,
or other noise, except the report of a gun, as she lay by a brook, early on
Thursday morning, the sixth day of her being lost. Thinking the gun to have
been fired not more than half a mile distant, she said she "screamed and
run" to the place from whence she supposed the noise came, but found
nothing. Early in the day, however, she came to the camp where this gun was
fired, but not until after its occupants had left to renew their search for
her. This camp was about four miles from the great meadow, where she spent
the Sabbath previous. There she found a fire, dried her clothes, and found
a partridge's gizzard, which she cooked and ate, and laid down and slept,
remaining about twenty-four hours.

In her travels she came across several other camps, some of which she
visited several times, particularly one where she found names cut upon
trees, and another in which was a piece of white paper. Except three or
four nights spent in these camps, she slept upon the ground, sometimes
making a bed of moss, and endeavouring to shelter herself from the
drenching rains with spruce boughs. For the two first weeks she suffered
much from the cold, shivering all night, and sleeping but little. The last
week she said she had got "toughened," and did not shiver. When first
lost she had a large trout, which was the only food she ate, except
choke-berries, the first week, and part of this she gave to her dog, which
remained with her for a week, day and night. The cherries, which she ate
greedily, swallowing the stones, she found injured her health; and for the
last two weeks she lived upon cranberries and wood sorrel. While the dog
remained with her, she constantly shared her food with him, but said she
was glad when he left her, as it was much trouble to find him food.

On Thursday of last week she followed the south towards the junction with
the north branch, where it appeared she had been before, but could not ford
the stream; and in the afternoon of Friday crossed the north, a little
above its junction with the south branch, and following down the stream,
she found herself in the clearing, near Moor's Mill. Thence directing
her steps towards home, she reached Mr. McDale's, about a mile from her
mother's, at six o'clock, having walked five miles in two hours, and
probably ten miles during the day. Here she remained till the next day,
when she was carried home, and was received by friends almost as one raised
from the dead. Her feet and ankles were very much swollen and lacerated;
but strange to say, her calico gown was kept whole, with the exception of
two small rents.

Respecting her feelings during her fast in the wilderness, she says she
was never frightened, though sometimes, when the sun disappeared, she felt
disheartened, expecting to perish; but when she found, by not discovering
any new tracks, that the people had given over searching for her, she was
greatly discouraged. On the morning of Friday, she was strongly inclined to
give up, and lie down and die; but the hope of seeing her mother stimulated
her to make one more effort to reach home, which proved successful. When
visited, she was in a state of feverish excitement and general derangement
of the system, and greatly emaciated, with a feeble voice, but perfectly
sane and collected.

It is somewhat remarkable that a young girl (aged seventeen), thinly clad,
could have survived twenty-one days, exposed as she was to such severe
storms, with no other food but wild berries. It is also very strange that
she should have been so frequently on the tracks of those in search of her,
sleeping in the camps, and endeavouring to follow their tracks home, and
not have heard any of their numerous trumpets, or been seen by any of the
hundreds of persons who were in search for her.

A more dismal result than the deprivations endured by Sarah Campbell, is
the frightful existence of a human creature, called in the American papers,
the "Wild Man of the far West." From time to time, these details approach
the terrific, of wild men who have grown up from childhood in a state of
destitution in the interminable forests, especially of this one, who, for
nearly a quarter of a century, has occasionally been seen, and then either
forgotten, or supposed to be the mere creation of the beholder's brain. But
it appears that he was, in March, 1850, encountered by Mr. Hamilton, of
Greene County, Arkansas, when hunting. The wild man was, likewise, chasing
his prey. A herd of cattle fled past Mr. Hamilton and his party, in an
agony of terror, pursued by a giant, bearing a dreadful semblance to
humanity. His face and shoulders were enveloped with long streaming hair,
his body was entirely hirsute, his progression was by great jumps of twelve
or thirteen feet at a leap. The creature turned and gazed earnestly on the
hunters, and fled into the depths of the forest, where he was lost to view.
His foot-prints were thirteen inches long. Mr. Hamilton published the
description of the savage man in the _Memphis Inquirer_. Afterwards several
planters deposed to having, at times, for many years, seen this appearance.
All persons generally agreed that it was a child that had been lost in the
woods, at the earthquake in 1811, now grown to meridian strength, in a
solitary state. Thus the possibility of an European child living, even
unassisted, in the wilderness, is familiar to the inhabitants of the
vast American continent. Although we doubt that any human creature would
progress by leaps, instead of the paces familiar to the human instinct. It
is probable that the wild man of the Arkansas is, in reality, some species
of the oran-outang, or chimpanzee.

APPENDIX B.

Page 72.--_"where Wolf Tower now stands."_

The Wolf Tower is among the very few structures in Canada not devoted to
purposes of strict utility. It was built by a gentleman of property as a
_belle vue,_ or fanciful prospect residence, in order to divert his mind
from the heavy pressure of family affliction. It was once lent by him to
the author, who dwelt here some time during the preparation of another
house in the district.

APPENDIX C.

Page 113.--_"... as civilization advances."_

Formerly the Rice Lake Plains abounded in deer, wolves, bears, raccoons,
wolverines, foxes, and wild animals of many kinds. Even a few years ago,
and bears and wolves were not unfrequent in their depredations; and the
ravines sheltered herds of deer; but now the sight of the former is a thing
of rare occurrence, and the deer are scarcely to be seen, so changed is
this lovely wilderness, that green pastures and yellow cornfields now meet
the eye on every side, and the wild beasts retire to the less frequented
depths of the forest.

From the undulating surface, the alternations of high hills, deep valleys,
and level table-lands, with the wide prospect they command, the Rice Lake
Plains still retain their picturesque beauty, which cannot be marred by the
hand of the settler even be he ever so devoid of taste; and many of those
who have chosen it as their home are persons of taste and refinement, who
delight in adding to the beauty of that which Nature had left so fair.

APPENDIX D. Page 157, _note_.

"I will now," says our Indian historian, "narrate a single circumstance
which will convey a correct idea of the sufferings to which Indians were
often exposed. To obtain furs of different kinds for the traders, we had to
travel far into the woods, and remain there the whole winter. Once we left
Rice Lake in the fall, and ascended the river in canoes as far as Belmont
Lake. There were five families about to hunt with my father on his ground.
The winter began to set in, and the river having frozen over, we left the
canoes, the dried venison, the beaver, and some flour and pork; and when we
had gone further north, say about sixty miles from the white settlements,
for the purpose of hunting, the snow fell for five days in succession,
to such a depth, that it was impossible to shoot or trap anything; our
provisions were exhausted, and we had no means of procuring any more. Here
we were, the snow about five feet deep, our wigwam buried, the branches of
the trees falling all about us, and cracking with the weight of the snow.

"Our mother (who seems, by-the-bye, from the record of her son, to have
been a most excellent woman) boiled birch-bark for my sister and myself,
that we might not starve. On the seventh day some of us were so weak they
could not guard themselves, and others could not stand alone. They could
only crawl in and out of the wigwam. We parched beaver skins and old
mocassins for food. On the ninth day none of the men could go abroad except
my father and uncle. On the tenth day, still being without food, the only
ones able to walk about the wigwam were my father, my grandmother, my
sister, and myself. Oh, how distressing to see the starving Indians lying
about the wigwam with hungry and eager looks!--the children would cry for
something to eat! My poor mother would heave bitter sighs, of despair, the
tears falling profusely from her cheeks as she kissed us! Wood, though in
plenty, could not be obtained on account of the feebleness of our limbs. My
father would at times draw near the fire and rehearse some prayer to the
gods. It appeared to him that there was no way of escape; the men, women,
and children, dying; some of them were speechless, the wigwam was cold and
dark, and covered with snow!

"On the eleventh day, just before daylight, my father fell into a sleep; he
soon awoke, and said to me: 'My son, the good Spirit is about to bless us
this night; in my dream I saw a person coming from the east walking on
the tops of the trees; he told me we should obtain two beavers about nine
o'clock. Put on your mocassins, and go along with me to the river, and we
will hunt beaver, perhaps, for the last time.' I saw that his countenance
beamed with delight and hope; he was full of confidence. I put on my
mocassins and carried my snow-shoes, staggering along behind him about half
a mile. Having made a fire near the river, where there was an air-hole
through which the beaver had come up during the night, my father tied a gun
to a stump with the muzzle towards the air-hole; he also tied a string to
the trigger, and said, 'Should you see the beaver rise pull the string, and
you will kill it.' I stood by the fire, with the string in my hand; I soon
heard the noise occasioned by the blow of his tomahawk; he had killed a
beaver and brought it to me. As he laid it down, he said, 'Then the great
Spirit will not let us die here;' adding, as before, 'if you see the beaver
rise, pull the string;' and he left me. I soon saw the nose of one, but I
did not shoot. Presently, another came up; I pulled the trigger, and off
the gun went. I could not see for some moments for the smoke. My father ran
towards me with the two beavers, and laid them side by side; then, pointing
to the sun,--'Do you see the sun?' he said; 'the great Spirit informed me
that we should kill these two about this time in the morning. We will yet
see our relatives at Rice Lake. Now let us go home, and see if our people
are yet alive.' We arrived just in time to save them from death. Since
which we have visited the same spot the year the missionaries came among
us.

"My father knelt down, with feelings of gratitude, on the very spot where
we had nearly perished. Glory to God! I have heard of many who have
perished in this way far up in the woods."--_Life of George Copway, written
by himself_, p. 44.

APPENDIX E.

Page 184.--"_... on first deciding that it was a canoe._"

The Indians say, that before their fathers had tools of iron and steel
in common use, a war canoe was the labour of three generations. It was
hollowed out by means of fire, cautiously applied, or by stone hatchets;
but so slowly did the work proceed, that years were passed in its
excavation. When completed, it was regarded as a great achievement, and its
launching on the waters of the lake or river was celebrated by feasting
and dancing. The artizans were venerated as great patriots. Possibly the
birch-bark canoe was of older date, as being more easily constructed, and
needing not the assistance of the axe in forming it; but it was too frail
to be used in war, or in long voyages, being liable to injuries.

The black stone wedges, so often found on the borders of our inland waters,
were used by the Indians in skinning the deer and bear. Their arrow-heads
were of white or black flint, rudely chipped into shape, and inserted in
a cleft stick. A larger sort were used for killing deer; and blunt wooden
ones were used by the children, for shooting birds and small game.

APPENDIX F.

Page 195.--_"... the Christian mind revolts with horror."_

There is, according to the native author, George Copway, a strong feeling
in the Indians for conversion and civilization, and a concentration of all
the Christianised tribes, now scattered far and wide along the northern
banks of the lakes and rivers, into one nation, to be called by one name,
and united in one purpose--their general improvement. To this end, one of
the most influential of their chiefs, John Jones, of Dover Sound, offered
to give up to his Indian brethren, free of all cost, a large tract of
unceded land, that they might be gathered together as one nation.

In the council held at Sangeeny, where were convened Indian chiefs from
lakes St. Clare, Samcoe, Huron, Ontario, and Rice, and other lakes, it was
proposed to devise a plan by which the tract owned by the Sangeenys could
be held for the benefit of the Ojebwas, to petition Government for aid in
establishing a manual-labour school, and to ascertain the general feeling
of the chiefs in relation to forming one large settlement at Owen's Sound.
At this meeting forty-eight chiefs were assembled.

There is much to admire in the simple, earnest, and courteous style of the
oration delivered by Chief John Jones, and will give to my readers some
idea of the intelligence of an educated Indian:--

"Brothers, you have been called from all your parts of Canada, even from
the north of Georgian Bay. You are from your homes, your wives, and your
children. We might regret this, were it not for the circumstances that
require you here.

"Fellow-chiefs and brothers, I have pondered with deep solicitude our
present condition and the future welfare of our children, as well as of
ourselves. I have studied deeply and anxiously, in order to arrive at a
true knowledge of the proper course to be pursued to secure to us and our
descendants, and even to those around us, the greatest amount of peace,
health, happiness, and usefulness. The interests of the Ojebwas and Ottawas
are near and dear to my heart; for them I have often passed sleepless
nights, and have suffered from an agitated mind. These nations, I am proud
to say, are my brothers, many of them bone of my bone; and for them, if
needs be, I would willingly sacrifice anything. Brothers, you see my
heart." [Here he held out a piece of white paper, emblematical of a pure
heart.]

"Fellow-chiefs and warriors, I have looked over your wigwams throughout
Canada, and have come to the conclusion that you are in a warm place
[_query_, too hot to hold you]. The whites are kindling fires all round you
[_i.e._ clearing land].

"One purpose for which you have been called together, is to devise some
plan by which we can live together, and become a happy people; so that our
dying fires may not go out, _i.e._ our people become extinct, but may be
kindled, and burn brightly, in one place. We now offer you any portion of
the land we own in this region, that we may smoke the pipe of peace, and
live and die together, and see our children play and be reared on the same
spot. We ask no money of you. We love you; and because we love you, and
feel for you, we propose this.

"My chiefs, brothers, warriors. This morning" [the speaker now pointed with
his finger towards the heavens], "look up and see the blue sky: there are
no clouds; the sun is bright and clear. Our fathers taught us, that when
the sky was without clouds, the Great Spirit was smiling upon them. May he
now preside over us, that we may make a long, smooth, and straight path for
our children. It is true I seldom see you all, but this morning I shake
hands with you all, in my heart.

"Brothers, this is all I have to say."

* * * * *

APPENDIX G.

Page 213.--_"... and aimed a knife at his throat"_

The period at which these events are said to have occurred was some sixty
or eighty years ago, according to the imperfect chronology of my informant.
At first, I hesitated to believe that such horrible deeds as those recorded
could have taken place almost within the memory of men. My Indian narrator
replied--"Indians, no Christians in those days, do worse than that very few
years ago,--do as bad now in far-west."

The conversion of the Rice Lake Indians, and the gathering them together
in villages, took place, I think, in the year 1825, or thereabouts. The
conversion was effected by the preaching of missionaries from the Wesleyan
Methodist Church; the village was under the patronage of Captain Anderson,
whose descendants inherit much land on the north shore on and about
Anderson's Point, the renowned site of the great battle. The war-weapon and
bones of the enemies the Ojebwas are still to be found in this vicinity.

* * * * *

APPENDIX H.

Page 232.--_"This place she called Spooke Island"_

Spooke Island. A singular and barren island in the Rice Lake, seventh from
the head of the lake, on which the Indians used formerly to bury their
dead, for many years held as a sacred spot, and only approached with
reverence. Now famous for two things, _picnics_ and _poison ivy, rhus
toxicodendron,_--many persons having suffered for their temerity in landing
upon it and making it the scene of their rural festivities.

APPENDIX I.

Page 253.--_"and nothing but fire."_

The Indians call the Rice Lake, in allusion to the rapidity with which
fires run over the dry herbage, the Lake of the Burning Plains. Certainly,
there is much poetical fitness and beauty in many of the Indian names,
approximating very closely to the figurative imagery of the language of the
East; such is "Mad-wa-osh," the music of the winds.

APPENDIX K.

Page 272.--_"but it was not so in the days whereof I have spoken."_

_From George Copway's Life._

Converted Indians are thus described in the "Life" of their literary
countryman, George Copway:--

_Chippewas of the River Credit._--These Indians are the remnant of a tribe
which formerly possessed a considerable portion of the Elome and Gore
Districts, of which, in 1818, they surrendered the greater part for an
annuity of 532_l._ 10_s._ reserving only certain small tracts at the River
Credit; and at sixteen and twelve miles creeks they were the first tribe
converted to Christianity. Previous to the year 1823 they were wandering
pagans. In that year Peter Jones, and John his brother, the sons of a white
by a Mississaga woman, having been converted to Christianity, and admitted
as members of the Wesleyan Methodist Church, became anxious to redeem
their countrymen from their degraded state of heathenism and spiritual
destitution. They collected a considerable number together, and by rote and
frequent repetitions, taught the first principles of Christianity to such
as were too old to learn to read, and with the Lord's Prayer, the Creed,
and Commandments, were thus committed to memory. As soon as the tribes
were converted they perceived the evils attendant on their former state
of ignorance and vagrancy. They began to work, which they had never done
before; they recognised the advantage of cultivating the soil; they gave
up drinking, to which they had been greatly addicted, and became sober,
consistent, industrious Christians.

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