Life in the Backwoods

S >> Susanna Moodie >> Life in the Backwoods

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In the evening, I received a note from Emilia, who was at Peterborough, in
which she informed me that my husband had borrowed a horse of Mr. S____,
and had joined a large party of two hundred volunteers, who had left that
morning for Toronto; that there had been a battle with the insurgents;
that Colonel Moodie had been killed, and the rebels had retreated; and
that she hoped my husband would return in a few days. The honest
backwoodsmen, perfectly ignorant of the abuses that had led to the present
position of things, regarded the rebels as a set of monsters, for whom no
punishment was too severe, and obeyed the call to arms with enthusiasm.
The leader of the insurgents must have been astonished at the rapidity
with which a large force was collected, as if by magic, to repel his
designs. A great number of these volunteers were half-pay officers, many
of whom had fought in the continental wars with the armies of Napoleon,
and would have been found a host in themselves.

In a week, Moodie returned. So many volunteers had poured into Toronto
that the number of friends was likely to prove as disastrous as that of
enemies, on account of the want of supplies to maintain them all. The
companies from the back townships had been remanded, and I received with
delight my own again. But this reunion did not last long. Several
regiments of militia were formed to defend the colony, and to my husband
was given the rank of captain in one of those then stationed in Toronto.

On the 20th of January, 1838, he bade us a long adieu. I was left with old
Jenny and the children to take care of the farm. It was a sad, dull time.
I could bear up against all trials with him to comfort and cheer me, but
his long-continued absence cast a gloom upon my spirit not easily to be
shaken off. Still his very appointment to this situation was a signal act
of mercy. From his full pay, he was enabled to liquidate many pressing
debts, and to send home from time to time sums of money to procure
necessaries for me and the little ones. These remittances were greatly
wanted; but I demurred before laying them out for comforts which we had
been so long used to dispense with. It seemed almost criminal to purchase
any article of luxury, such as tea and sugar, while a debt remained
unpaid.

The Y____'s were very pressing for the thirty pounds that we owed them for
the clearing; but they had such a firm reliance upon the honour of my
husband, that, poor and pressed for money as they were, they never sued
us. I thought it would be a pleasing surprise to Moodie, if, with the sums
of money which I occasionally received from him, I could diminish this
debt, which had always given him the greatest uneasiness; and, my
resolution once formed, I would not allow any temptation to shake it. The
money was always transmitted to Dummer. I only reserved the sum of two
dollars a month, to pay a little lad to chop wood for us. After a time, I
began to think the Y____'s were gifted with second-sight; for I never
received a money-letter, but the very next day I was sure to see some of
the family.

Just at this period I received a letter from a gentleman, requesting me to
write for a magazine (the Literary Garland), just started in Montreal,
with promise to remunerate me for my labours. Such an application was like
a gleam of light springing up in the darkness; it seemed to promise the
dawning of a brighter day. I had never been able to turn my thoughts
towards literature during my sojourn in the bush. When the body is
fatigued with labour, unwonted and beyond its strength, the mind is in no
condition for mental occupation.

The year before, I had been requested by an American author, of great
merit, to contribute to the North American Review, published for several
years in Philadelphia; and he promised to remunerate me in proportion to
the success of the work. I had contrived to write several articles after
the children were asleep, though the expense even of the stationery and
the postage of the manuscripts was severely felt by one so destitute of
means; but the hope of being of the least service to those dear to me
cheered me to the task. I never realized anything from that source; but I
believe it was not the fault of the editor. Several other American editors
had written to me to furnish them with articles; but I was unable to pay
the postage of heavy packets to the States, and they could not reach their
destination without being paid to the frontier. Thus, all chance of making
any thing in that way had been abandoned. I wrote to Mr. L____, and
frankly informed him how I was situated. In the most liberal manner, he
offered to pay the postage on all manuscripts to his office, and left me
to name my own terms of remuneration. This opened up a new era in my
existence; and for many years I have found in this generous man, to whom I
am still personally unknown, a steady friend. I actually shed tears of joy
over the first twenty-dollar bill I received from Montreal. It was my own;
I had earned it with my own hand; and it seemed to my delighted fancy to
form the nucleus out of which a future independence for my family might
arise. I no longer retired to bed when the labours of the day were over. I
sat up, and wrote by the light of a strange sort of candles, that Jenny
called "sluts," and which the old woman manufactured out of pieces of old
rags, twisted together and dipped in pork lard, and stuck in a bottle.
They did not give a bad light, but it took a great many of them to last me
for a few hours.

The faithful old creature regarded my writings with a jealous eye. "An',
shure, it's killin' yerself that you are intirely. You were thin enough
before you took to the pen; scribblin' an' scrabblin' when you should be
in bed an' asleep. What good will it be to the childhren, dear heart! if
you die afore your time, by wastin' your strength afther that fashion?"

Jenny never could conceive the use of books. "Shure, we can live and die
widout them. It's only a waste of time botherin' your brains wid the like
of them; but, thank goodness! the lard will soon be all done, an' thin we
shall hear you spakin' again, instead of sittin' there doubled up all
night, desthroying your eyes wid porin' over the dirthy writin'."

As the sugar-making season drew near, Jenny conceived the bold thought of
making a good lump of sugar, that the "childher" might have something to
"ate" with their bread during the summer. We had no sugar-kettle, but a
neighbour promised to lend us his, and to give us twenty-eight troughs, on
condition that we gave him half the sugar we made. These terms were rather
hard, but Jenny was so anxious to fulfil the darling object that we
consented. Little Sol and the old woman made some fifty troughs more, the
trees were duly tapped, a shanty in the bush was erected of small logs and
brush and covered in at the top with straw; and the old woman and Solomon,
the hired boy, commenced operations.

The very first day, a terrible accident happened to us; a large log fell
upon the sugar-kettle--the borrowed sugar-kettle--and cracked it, spilling
all the sap, and rendering the vessel, which had cost four dollars,
useless. We were all in dismay. Just at that time Old Wittals happened to
pass, on his way to Peterborough. He very good-naturedly offered to get
the kettle repaired for us; which, he said, could be easily done by a
rivet and an iron hoop. But where was the money to come from! I thought
awhile. Katie had a magnificent coral and bells, the gift of her
godfather; I asked the dear child if she would give it to buy another
kettle for Mr. T____. She said, "I would give ten times as much to help
mamma."

I wrote a little note to Emilia, who was still at her father's; and
Mr. W____, the storekeeper, sent us a fine sugar-kettle back by Wittals,
and also the other mended, in exchange for the useless piece of finery.
We had now two kettles at work, to the joy of Jenny, who declared that
it was a lucky fairy who had broken the old kettle.

While Jenny was engaged in boiling and gathering the sap in the bush, I
sugared off the syrup in the house; an operation watched by the children
with intense interest. After standing all day over the hot stove-fire, it
was quite a refreshment to breathe the pure air at night. Every evening I
ran up to see Jenny in the bush, singing and boiling down the sap in the
front of her little shanty. The old woman was in her element, and afraid
of nothing under the stars; she slept beside her kettles at night, and
snapped her fingers at the idea of the least danger. She was sometimes
rather despotic in her treatment of her attendant, Sol. One morning, in
particular, she bestowed upon the lad a severe cuffing. I ran up the
clearing to the rescue, when my ears were assailed by the "boo-hooing" of
the boy.

"What has happened? Why do you beat the child, Jenny?"

"It's jist, thin, I that will bate him--the unlucky omad-hawn! Has he not
spilt and spiled two buckets of syrup, that I have been the live-long
night bilin'. Sorra wid him; I'd like to strip the skin off him, I would!
Musha! but'tis enough to vex a saint."

"Ah, Jenny!" blubbered the poor boy, "but you have no mercy. You forget
that I have but one eye, and that I could not see the root which caught my
foot and threw me down."

"Faix! an' 'tis a pity that you have the one eye, when you don't know how
to make a betther use of it," muttered the angry dame, as she picked up
the pails, and, pushing him on before her, beat a retreat into the bush.

I was heartily sick of the sugar-making, long before the season was over;
however, we were well paid for our trouble. Besides one hundred and twelve
pounds of fine soft sugar, as good as Muscovado, we had six gallons of
molasses, and a keg containing six gallons of excellent vinegar.

Fifty pounds went to Mr. T____, for the use of his kettle: and the rest
(with the exception of a cake for Emilia, which I had drained in a wet
flannel bag until it was almost as white as loaf sugar) we kept for our
own use. There was no lack, this year, of nice preserves and pickled
cucumbers, dainties found in every native Canadian establishment.

Besides gaining a little money with my pen, I practised a method of
painting birds and butterflies upon the white, velvety surface of the
large fungi that grow plentifully upon the bark of the sugar-maple. These
had an attractive appearance; and my brother, who was a captain in one of
the provisional regiments, sold a great many of them among the officers,
without saying by whom they were painted. One rich lady in Peterborough,
long since dead, ordered two dozen to send as curiosities to England.
These, at one shilling each, enabled me to buy shoes for the children,
who, during our bad times, had been forced to dispense with these
necessary coverings. How often, during the winter season, have I wept
over their little chapped feet, literally washing them with my tears!
But these days were to end; Providence was doing great things for us; and
Hope raised at last her drooping head to regard with a brighter glance the
far-off future.

Slowly the winter rolled away; but he to whom every thought turned was
still distant from his humble home. The receipt of an occasional letter
from him was my only solace during his long absence, and we were still too
poor to indulge often in this luxury. My poor Katie was as anxious as her
mother to hear from her father; and when I did get the long looked-for
prize, she would kneel down before me, her little elbows resting on my
knees, her head thrown back, and the tears trickling down her innocent
cheeks, eagerly drinking in every word.

The spring brought us plenty of work; we had potatoes and corn to plant,
and the garden to cultivate. By lending my oxen for two days' work, I got
Wittals, who had no oxen, to drag me in a few acres of oats, and to
prepare the land for potatoes and corn. The former I dropped into the
earth, while Jenny covered them up with the hoe.

Our garden was well dug and plentifully manured, the old woman bringing
the manure, which had lain for several years at the barn door, down to the
plot, in a large Indian basket placed upon a hand-sleigh. We had soon
every sort of vegetable sown, with plenty of melons and cucumbers, and all
our beds promised a good return. There were large flights of ducks upon
the lake every night and morning; but though we had guns, we did not know
how to use them. However, I thought of a plan, which I flattered myself
might prove successful; I got Sol to plant two stakes in the shallow
water, near the rice beds, and to these I attached a slender rope, made
by braiding long strips of the inner bark of the bass-wood together; to
these again I fastened, at regular intervals, about a quarter of a yard of
whip-cord, headed by a strong perch-hook. These hooks I baited with fish
offal, leaving them to float just under the water. Early next morning, I
saw a fine black duck fluttering upon the line. The boy ran down with the
paddles, but before he could reach the spot, the captive got away by
carrying the hook and line with him. At the next stake he found upon the
hooks a large eel and a catfish.

I had never before seen one of those whiskered, toad-like natives of the
Canadian waters (so common to the Bay of Quinte, where they grow to a
great size), that I was really terrified at the sight of the hideous
beast, and told Sol to throw it away. In this I was very foolish, for
they are esteemed good eating in many parts of Canada; but to me, the
sight of the reptile-like thing is enough--it is uglier, and for more
disgusting-looking than a toad.

When the trees came into leaf, and the meadows were green, and flushed
with flowers, the poor children used to talk constantly to me of their
father's return; their innocent prattle made me very sad. Every evening we
walked into the wood, along the path that he must come whenever he did
return home, to meet him; and though it was a vain hope, and the walk was
taken just to amuse the little ones, I used to be silly enough to feel
deeply disappointed when we returned alone. Donald, who was a mere baby
when his father left us, could just begin to put words together. "Who is
papa?" "When will he come?" "Will he come by the road?" "Will he come in a
canoe?" The little creature's curiosity to see this unknown father was
really amusing; and oh! how I longed to present the little fellow, with
his rosy cheeks and curling hair, to his father; he was so fair, so
altogether charming in my eyes. Emilia had called him Cedric the Saxon;
and he well suited the name with his frank, honest disposition, and large,
loving blue eyes.

June had commenced; the weather was very warm, and Mr. T____ had sent for
the loan of old Jenny to help him for a day with his potatoes. I had just
prepared dinner when the old woman came shrieking like a mad thing down
the clearing, and waving her hands towards me. I could not imagine what
had happened.

"Ninny's mad!" whispered Dunbar; "she's the old girl for making a noise."

"Joy! joy!" bawled out the old woman, now running breathlessly towards us.
"The masther's come--the masther's come!"

"Where?--where!"

"Jist above in the wood. Goodness gracious! I have run to let you know--so
fast--that my heart--is like to--break."

Without stopping to comfort poor Jenny, off started the children and
myself, at the very top of our speed; but I soon found that I could not
run-I was too much agitated. I got to the head of the bush, and sat down
upon a fallen tree. The children sprang forward like wild kids, all but
Donald, who remained with his old nurse. I covered my face with my hands;
my heart, too, was beating audibly: and now that he was come, and was so
near me I scarcely could command strength to meet him. The sound of happy
young voices roused me up; the children were leading him along in triumph;
and he was bending down to them, all smiles, but hot and tired with his
long journey. It was almost worth our separation, that blissful meeting.
In a few minutes he was at home, and the children upon his knees. Katie
stood silently holding his hand, but Addie and Dunbar had a thousand
things to tell him. Donald was frightened at his military dress, but he
peeped at him from behind my gown, until I caught and placed him in his
father's arms.

His leave of absence only extended to a fortnight. It had taken him three
days to come all the way from Lake Erie, where his regiment was stationed,
at Point Abino; and the same time would be consumed in his return. He
could only remain with us eight days. How soon they fled away! How bitter
was the thought of parting with him again! He had brought money to pay the
J____'s. How surprised he was to find their large debt more than half
liquidated. How gently did he chide me for depriving myself and the
children of the little comforts he had designed for us, in order to make
this sacrifice. But never was self-denial more fully rewarded; I felt
happy in having contributed in the least to pay a just debt to kind and
worthy people. You must become poor yourself before you can fully
appreciate the good qualities of the poor--before you can sympathize with
them, and fully recognize them as your brethren in the flesh. Their
benevolence to each other, exercised amidst want and privation, as far
surpasses the munificence of the rich towards them, as the exalted
philanthropy of Christ and his disciples does the Christianity of the
present day. The rich man gives from his abundance; the poor man shares
with a distressed comrade his all.

One short, happy week too soon fled away, and we were once more alone. In
the fall, my husband expected the regiment in which he held his commission
would be reduced, which would again plunge us into the same distressing
poverty. Often of a night I revolved these things in my mind, and
perplexed myself with conjectures as to what in future was to become of
us. Although he had saved all he could from his pay, it was impossible to
pay several hundreds of pounds of debt; and the steamboat stock still
continued a dead letter. To remain much longer in the woods was
impossible, for the returns from the farm scarcely fed us; and but for the
clothing sent us by friends from home, who were not aware of our real
difficulties, we should have been badly off indeed.

I pondered over every plan that thought could devise; at last, I prayed to
the Almighty to direct me as to what would be the best course for us to
pursue. A sweet assurance stole over me, and soothed my spirit, that God
would provide for us, as He had hitherto done--that a great deal of our
distress arose from want of faith. I was just sinking into a calm sleep
when the thought seemed whispered into my soul, "Write to the Governor;
tell him candidly all you hare suffered during sojourn in this country;
and trust to God for the rest."

At first I paid little heed to this suggestion; but it became so
importunate that at last I determined to act upon it as if it were a
message sent from heaven. I rose from my bed, struck a light, sat down,
and wrote a letter to the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir George Arthur, a simple
statement of facts, leaving it to his benevolence to pardon the liberty I
had taken in addressing him.

I asked of him to continue my husband in the militia service, in the same
regiment in which he now held the rank of captain, which, by enabling him
to pay our debts, would rescue us from our present misery. Of the
political character of Sir George Arthur I knew nothing. I addressed him
as a man and a Christian; and I acknowledge, with the deepest and most
heartfelt gratitude, the generous kindness of his conduct towards us.
Before the day dawned, my letter was ready for the post The first secret I
ever had from my husband was the writing of that letter; and, proud and
sensitive as he was, and averse to asking the least favour of the great, I
was dreadfully afraid that the act I had just done would be displeasing to
him; still, I felt resolutely determined to send it. After giving the
children their breakfast, I walked down and read it to my brother-in-law,
who was not only much pleased with its contents, but took it down himself
to the post-office.

Shortly after, I received a letter from my husband, informing me that the
regiment had been reduced, and that he should be home in time to get in
the harvest. Most anxiously I awaited a reply to my application to the
Governor; but no reply came.

The first week in August our dear Moodie came home, and brought with him,
to our no small joy, J. E____, who had just returned from Ireland. E____
had been disappointed about the money, which was subject to litigation;
and, tired of waiting at home until the tedious process of the law should
terminate, he had come back to the woods, and, before night, was
reinstated in his old quarters.

His presence made Jenny all alive; she dared him at once to a trial of
skill with her in the wheat-field, which E____ prudently declined. He did
not expect to stay longer in Canada than the fall, but, whilst he did
stay, he was to consider our house his home.

That harvest was the happiest we ever spent in the bush. We had enough of
the common necessaries of life. A spirit of peace and harmony pervaded our
little dwelling, for the most affectionate attachment existed among its
members. We were not troubled with servants, for the good old Jenny we
regarded as an humble friend, and were freed, by that circumstance, from
many of the cares and vexations of a bush life. Our evening excursions on
the lake were doubly enjoyed after the labours of the day, and night
brought us calm and healthful repose.

CHAPTER X.

THE WHIRLWIND.

The 19th of April came, and our little harvest was all safely housed.
Business called Moodie away for a few days to Cobourg; Jenny had gone to
Dummer, to visit her friends, and J. E____ had taken a grist of the new
wheat, which he and Moodie had threshed the day before, to the mill.
I was consequently left alone with the children, and had a doable portion
of work to do. During their absence it was my lot to witness the most
awful storm I ever beheld, and a vivid recollection of its terrors was
permanently fixed upon my memory.

The weather had been intensely hot during the three preceding days,
although the sun was entirely obscured by a blueish haze, which seemed to
render the unusual heat of the atmosphere more oppressive. Not a breath of
air stirred the vast forest, and the waters of the lake assumed a leaden
hue. After passing a sleepless night, I arose, a little after daybreak,
to superintend my domestic affairs. E____ took his breakfast, and went off
to the mill, hoping that the rain would keep off until after his return.

"It is no joke," he said, "being upon these lakes in a small canoe,
heavily laden, in a storm."

Before the sun rose, the heavens were covered with hard-looking clouds, of
a deep blue and black cast, fading away to white at their edges, and in
form resembling the long, rolling waves of a heavy sea--but with this
difference, that the clouds were perfectly motionless, piled in long
curved lines, one above the other, and so remained until four o'clock in
the afternoon. The appearance of these clouds, as the sun rose above the
horizon, was the most splendid that can be imagined, tinged up to the
zenith with every shade of saffron, gold, rose-colour, scarlet, and
crimson, fading away into the deepest violet. Never did the storm-fiend
shake in the face of day a more gorgeous banner; and, pressed as I was for
time, I stood gazing like one entranced upon the magnificent pageant.

As the day advanced, the same blue haze obscured the sun, which frowned
redly through his misty veil. At ten o'clock the heat was suffocating, and
I extinguished the fire in the cooking-stove, determined to make our meals
upon bread and milk, rather than add to the oppressive heat. The
thermometer in the shade ranged from ninety-six to ninety-eight degrees,
and I gave over my work and retired with the little ones to the coolest
part of the house. The young creatures stretched themselves upon the
floor, unable to jump about or play; the dog lay panting in the shade; the
fowls half buried themselves in the dust, with open beaks and outstretched
wings. All nature seemed to droop beneath the scorching heat.

Unfortunately for me, a gentleman arrived about one o'clock from Kingston,
to transact some business with my husband. He had not tasted food since
six o'clock, and I was obliged to kindle the fire to prepare his dinner.
It was one of the hardest tasks I ever performed; I almost fainted with
the heat, and most inhospitably rejoiced when his dinner was over, and I
saw him depart. Shortly afterwards, my friend Mrs. C____ and her brother
called in, on their way from Peterborough.

"How do you bear the heat?" asked Mrs. C____. "This is one of the hottest
days I ever remember to have experienced in this part of the province. I
am afraid that it will end in a hurricane, or what the Lower Canadians
term 'L'Orage.'"

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