Life in the Backwoods

S >> Susanna Moodie >> Life in the Backwoods

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About four o'clock they rose to go. I urged them to stay onger. "No," said
Mrs. C____, "the sooner we get home the better. I think we can reach it
before the storm breaks."

I took Donald in my arms, and my eldest boy by the hand, and walked with
them to the brow of the hill, thinking that the air would be cooler in the
shade. In this I was mistaken. The clouds over our heads hung so low, and
the heat was so great, that I was soon glad to retrace my steps.

The moment I turned round to face the lake, I was surprised at the change
that had taken place in the appearance of the heavens. The clouds, that
had before lain so motionless, were now in rapid motion, hurrying and
chasing each other round the horizon. It was a strangely awful sight.
Before I felt a breath of the mighty blast that had already burst on the
other side of the lake, branches of trees, leaves, and clouds of dust were
whirled across the lake, whose waters rose in long sharp furrows, fringed
with foam, as if moved in their depths by some unseen but powerful agent.

Panting with terror, I just reached the door of the house as the hurricane
swept up the hill, crushing and overturning every thing in its course.
Spell-bound, I stood at the open door, with clasped hands, unable to
speak, rendered dumb and motionless by the terrible grandeur of the scene;
while little Donald, who could not utter many intelligible words, crept to
my feet, appealing to me for protection, while his rosy cheeks paled even
to marble whiteness. The hurrying clouds gave to the heavens the
appearance of a pointed dome, round which the lightning played in broad
ribbons of fire. The roaring of the thunder, the rushing of the blast, the
impetuous down-pouring of the rain, and the crash of falling trees, were
perfectly deafening; and in the midst of this up-roar of the elements, old
Jenny burst in, drenched with wet and half dead with fear.

"The Lord preserve us!" she cried, "this surely is the day of judgment.
Fifty trees fell across my very path, between this an' the creek. Mrs.
C____ just reached her brother's clearing a few minutes before a great
oak fell on her very path. What thunther!--what lightning! Misthress,
dear!--it's turn'd so dark, I can only jist see yer face."

Glad enough was I of her presence; for to be alone in the heart of the
great forest, in a log hut, on such a night, was not a pleasing prospect.
People gain courage by companionship, and in order to reassure each other,
struggle to conceal their fears.

"And where is Mr. E____?"

"I hope not on the lake. He went early this morning to get the wheat
ground at the mill."

"Och, the crathur! He's surely drowned. What boat could stan' such a
scrimmage as this?"

I had my fears for poor John; but as the chance that he had to wait at the
mill till others were served was more than probable, I tried to still my
apprehensions for his safety. The storm soon passed over, after having
levelled several acres of wood near the house, and smitten down in its
progress two gigantic pines in the clearing, which must have withstood the
force of a thousand winters. Talking over the effects of this whirlwind
with my brother, he kindly sent me the following very graphic description
of a whirlwind which passed through the town of Guelph in the summer of
1829.

[Footnote: Written by Mr Strickland, of Douro.]
"In my hunting excursions and rambles through the Upper Canadian forests,
I had frequently met with extensive wind-falls; and observed with some
surprise that the fallen trees lay strewn in a succession of circles, and
evidently appeared to have been twisted off the stumps. I also remarked
that these wind-falls were generally narrow, and had the appearance of a
road slashed through the forest. From observations made at the time, and
since confirmed, I have no doubt that Colonel Reid's theory of storms's a
correct one, viz., that all wind-storms move in a circular direction, and
the nearer the centre the more violent the force of the wind. Having seen
the effects of several similar hurricanes since my residence in Canada
West, I shall proceed to describe one which happened in the township of
Guelph during the early part of the summer of 1829.

"The weather, for the season of the year (May), had been hot and sultry,
with scarcely a breath of wind stirring. I had heard distant thunder from
an early hour in the morning, which, from the eastward, is rather an
unusual occurrence. About 10 A. M., the sky had a most singular, and I
must add a most awful appearance, presenting to the view a vast arch of
rolling blackness, which seemed to gather strength and density as it
approached the zenith. All at once the clouds began to work round in
circles, as if chasing one another through the air. Suddenly the dark arch
of clouds appeared to break up into detached masses, whirling and mixing
through each other in dreadful commotion. The forked lightning was
incessant, accompanied by heavy thunder. In a short time, the clouds
seemed to converge to a point, which approached very near the earth, still
whirling with great rapidity directly under this point; and apparently
from the midst of the woods arose a black column, in the shape of a cone,
which instantly joined itself to the depending cloud. The sight was now
grand and awful in the extreme. Picture, to your imagination a vast column
of smoke, of inky blackness, reaching from earth to heaven, gyrating with
fearful velocity--bright lightnings issuing from the vortex; the roar of
the thunder--the rushing of the blast--the crash of timber--the limbs of
trees, leaves, and rubbish, mingled with clouds of dust, whirling through
the air;--you then have a faint idea of the scene.

"I had ample time for observation, as the hurricane commenced its
devastating course about two miles from the town, through the centre of
which it took its way, passing within fifty yards of where a number of
persons, myself among the rest, were standing, watching its fearful
progress.

"As the tornado approached, the trees seemed to fall like a pack of cards
before its irresistible current. After passing through the clearing made
around the village, the force of the wind gradually abated, and in a few
minutes died away entirely.

"As soon as the storm was over, I went to see the damage it had done. From
the point where I first observed the black column to rise from the woods
and join the clouds, the trees were twisted in every direction. A belt of
timber had been levelled to the ground, about two miles in length and
about one hundred yards in breadth. At the entrance of the town it crossed
the river Speed, and uprooted about six acres of wood, which had been
thinned out, and left by Mr. Gait (late superintendent of the Canada
Company), as an ornament to his house.

"The Eremosa road was completely blocked up for nearly half-a-mile, in the
wildest confusion possible. In its progress through the town the storm
unroofed several houses, levelled many fences to the ground, and entirely
demolished a frame barn. Windows were dashed in; and, in one instance, the
floor of a log house was carried through the roof. Some hairbreadth
escapes occurred; but, luckily, no lives were lost.

"About twelve years since a similar storm occurred in the north part of
the township of Douro, but was of much less magnitude. I heard an
intelligent settler, who resided some years in the township of Madoc,
state that, during his residence in that township, a similar hurricane
to the one I have described, though of a much more awful character,
passed through a part of Marmora and Madoc, and had been traced, in a
north-easterly direction, upwards of forty miles into the unsurveyed
lands; the uniform width of which appeared to be three quarters of a mile.

"It is very evident, from the traces which they have left behind them,
that storms of this description have not been unfrequent in the wooded
districts of Canada; and it becomes a matter of interesting consideration
whether the clearing of our immense forests will not, in a great measure,
remove the cause of these phenomena."

A few minutes after our household had retired to rest, my first sleep was
broken by the voice of J. E____, speaking to old Jenny in the kitchen. He
had been overtaken by the storm but had run his canoe ashore upon an
island before its full fury burst, and turned it over the flour; while he
had to brave the terrors of a pitiless tempest--buffeted by the wind, and
drenched with torrents of rain. I got up and made him a cup of tea, while
Jenny prepared a rasher of bacon and eggs for his supper.

Shortly after this, J. E____ bade a final adieu to Canada, with his cousin
C. W____. He volunteered into the Scotch Greys, and we never saw him more;
but I have been told that he was so highly respected by the officers of
the regiment that they subscribed for his commission; that he rose to the
rank of lieutenant; accompanied the regiment to India, and was at the
taking of Cabul; but from himself we never heard again.

The 16th of October, my third son was born; and a few days after, my
husband was appointed paymaster to the militia regiments in the V.
District, with the rank and full pay of captain. This was Sir George
Arthur's doing. He returned no answer to my application, but he did not
forget us. As the time that Moodie might retain this situation was very
doubtful, he thought it advisable not to remove me and the family until he
could secure some permanent situation; by so doing, he would have a better
opportunity of saving the greater part of his income to pay off his old
debts.

This winter of 1839 was one of severe trial to me. Hitherto I had enjoyed
the blessing of health; but both the children and myself were now doomed
to suffer from dangerous attacks of illness. All the little things had
malignant scarlet fever, and for several days I thought it would please
the Almighty to take from me my two girls. This fever is so fatal to
children in Canada that none of my neighbours dared approach the house.
For three weeks Jenny and I were never undressed; our whole time was taken
up in nursing the five little helpless creatures through the successive
stages of their alarming disease. I sent for Dr. Taylor; but he did not
come, and I was obliged to trust to the mercy of God, and my own judgment
and good nursing. Though I escaped the fever, mental anxiety and fatigue
brought on other illness, which for nearly ten weeks rendered me perfectly
helpless. When I was again able to creep from my sick bed, the baby was
seized with an illness, which Dr. B____ pronounced mortal. Against all
hope, he recovered, but these severe mental trials rendered me weak and
nervous, and more anxious than ever to be re-united to my husband. To add
to these troubles, my sister and her husband sold their farm, and removed
from our neighbourhood. Mr. ____ had returned to England, and had obtained
a situation in the Customs; and his wife, my friend Emilia, was keeping a
school in the village; so that I felt more solitary than ever, thus
deprived of so many kind, sympathizing friends.

CHAPTER XI.

THE WALK TO DUMMER.

Reader! have you ever heard of a place situated in the forest-depths
of this far western wilderness, called Dummer? Ten years ago it might
not inaptly have been termed "The _last_ clearing in the World." Nor to
this day do I know of any in that direction which extends beyond it. Our
bush-farm was situated on the border-line of a neighbouring township, only
one degree less wild, less out of the worid, or nearer to the habitations
of civilization than the far-famed "English Line," the boast and glory of
this _terra incognita_.

This place, so named by the emigrants who had pitched their tents in that
solitary wilderness, was a long line of cleared land, extending upon
either side for some miles through the darkest and most interminable
forest. The English Line was inhabited chiefly by Cornish miners, who,
tired of burrowing like moles underground, had determined to emigrate to
Canada, where they could breathe the fresh air of heaven, and obtain the
necessaries of life upon the bosom of their mother earth. Strange as it
may appear, these men made good farmers, and steady, industrious
colonists, working as well above ground as they had toiled in their early
days beneath it. All our best servants came from Dummer; and although they
spoke a language difficult to be understood, and were uncouth in their
manners and appearance, they were faithful and obedient, performing the
tasks assigned to them with patient perseverance; good food and kind
treatment rendering them always cheerful and contented.

My dear old Jenny, that most faithful and attached of all humble domestic
friends, came from Dummer, and I was wont to regard it with complacency
for her sake. But Jenny was not English; she was a generous, warm-hearted
daughter of the Green Isle--the emerald gem set in the silver of ocean.
Yes, Jenny was one of the poorest children of that impoverished but
glorious country where wit and talent seem indigenous, springing up
spontaneously in the rudest and most uncultivated minds; showing what the
land could bring forth in its own strength, unaided by education, and
unfettered by the conventional rules of society. Jenny was a striking
instance of the worth, noble self-denial, and devotion, which are often
met with--and, alas! but too often disregarded--in the poor and ignorant
natives of that deeply-injured and much-abused land. A few words about my
old favourite may not prove uninteresting to my readers.

Jenny Buchanan, or, as she called it, Bohanon, was the daughter of a petty
exciseman, of Scotch extraction (hence her industry), who, at the time of
her birth, resided near the old town of Inniskillen. Her mother died a few
months after she was born; and her father, within the twelve months,
married again. In the mean while the poor orphan babe had been adopted by
a kind neighbour, the wife of a small farmer in the vicinity.

In return for coarse food and scanty clothing, the little Jenny became a
servant of all work. She fed the pigs, herded the cattle, assisted in
planting potatoes and digging peat from the bog, and was undisputed
mistress of the poultry-yard. As she grew up to womanhood, the importance
of her labours increased. A better reaper in the harvest-field, or footer
of turf in the bog, could not be found in the district, or a woman more
thoroughly acquainted with the management of cows and the rearing of young
cattle; but here poor Jenny's accomplishments terminated.

Her usefulness was all abroad. Within the house she made more dirt than
she had the inclination or the ability to clear away. She could neither
read, nor knit, nor sew; and although she called herself a Protestant, and
a Church of England woman, she knew no more of religion, as revealed to
man through the Word of God, than the savage who sinks to the grave in
ignorance of a Redeemer. Hence she stoutly resisted all idea of being a
sinner, or of standing the least chance of receiving hereafter the
condemnation of one.

"Och, shure thin," she would say, with simple earnestness of look and
manner, almost irresistible, "God will never trouble Himsel' about a poor,
hard-working crathur like me, who never did any harm to the manest of His
makin'."

One thing was certain, that a benevolent Providence had, "throubled
Himsel'" about poor Jenny in times past, for the warm heart of this
neglected child of Nature contained a stream of the richest benevolence,
which, situated as she had been, could not have been derived from any
other source. Honest, faithful, and industrious, Jenny became a law unto
herself, and practically illustrated the golden rule of her blessed Lord,
"to do unto others as we would they should do unto us." She thought it was
impossible that her poor services could ever repay the debt of gratitude
that she owed to the family who had brought her up, although the
obligation must have been entirely on their side. To them she was greatly
attached--for them she toiled unceasingly; and when evil days came, and
they were not able to meet the rent-day, or to occupy the farm, she
determined to accompany them in their emigration to Canada, and formed one
of the stout-hearted band that fixed its location in the lonely and
unexplored wilds now known as the township of Dummer.

During the first year of their settlement, the means of obtaining the
common necessaries of life became so precarious, that, in order to assist
her friends with a little ready money, Jenny determined to hire out into
some wealthy house as a servant. When I use the term wealth as applied to
any bush-settler, it is of course only comparatively; but Jenny was
anxious to obtain a place with settlers who enjoyed a small income
independent of their forest means.

Her first speculation was a complete failure. For five long, hopeless
years she served a master from whom she never received a farthing of her
stipulated wages. Still her attachment to the family was so strong, and
had become so much the necessity of her life, that the poor creature could
not make up her mind to leave them. The children whom she had received
into her arms at their birth, and whom she had nursed with maternal
tenderness, were as dear to her as if they had been her own; she continued
to work for them, although her clothes were worn to tatters, and her own
friends were too poor to replace them.

Her master, Captain N____, a handsome, dashing officer, who had served
many years in India, still maintained the carriage and appearance of a
gentleman, in spite of his mental and moral degradation, arising from a
constant state of intoxication; he still promised to remunerate at some
future day her faithful services; and although all his neighbours well
knew that his means were exhausted, and that that day would never come,
yet Jenny, in the simplicity of her faith, still toiled on, in the hope
that the better day he spoke of would soon arrive.

And now a few words respecting this master, which I trust may serve as a
warning to others. Allured by the bait that has been the ruin of so many
of his class, the offer of a large grant of land, Captain N____ had been
induced to form a settlement in this remote and untried township; laying
out much, if not all, of his available means in building a log house, and
clearing a large extent of barren and stony land. To this uninviting home
he conveyed a beautiful young wife, and a small and increasing family. The
result may be easily anticipated. The want of society--a dreadful want to
a man of his previous habits--the total absence of all the comforts and
decencies of life; produced inaction, apathy, and at last, despondency,
which was only alleviated by a constant and immoderate use of ardent
spirits. As long as Captain N____ retained his half pay, he contrived to
exist. In an evil hour he parted with this, and quickly trod the down-hill
path to ruin.

And here I would remark that it is always a rash and hazardous step for
any officer to part with his half pay; although it is almost every day
done, and generally followed by the same disastrous results. A-certain
income, however small, in a country where money is so hard to be procured,
and where labour cannot be attained but at a very high pecuniary
remuneration, is invaluable to a gentleman unaccustomed to agricultural
employment; who, without this reserve to pay his people, during the brief
but expensive seasons of seed-time and harvest, must either work himself
or starve. I have known no instance in which such sale has been attended
with ultimate advantage; but, alas! too many in which it has terminated in
the most distressing destitution. These government grants of land, to
half-pay officers, have induced numbers of this class to emigrate to the
backwoods of Canada, who are totally unfit for pioneers; but, tempted by
the offer of finding themselves landholders of what, on paper, appear
to them fine estates, they resign a certainty, to waste their energies,
and die half-starved and broken-hearted in the depths of the pitiless
wild.

If a gentleman so situated would give up all idea of settling on his
grant, but hire a good farm in a favourable situation--that is, not too
far from a market--and with his half pay hire efficient labourers, of
which plenty are now to be had, to cultivate the land, with common
prudence and economy, he would soon obtain a comfortable subsistence for
his family. And if the males were brought up to share the burden and
heat of the day, the expense of hired labour, as it yearly diminished,
would add to the general means and well-being of the whole, until the
hired farm became the real property of the industrious tenants. But the
love of show, the vain boast of appearing richer and better dressed than
our neighbours, too often involves the emigrant's family in debt, from
which they are seldom able to extricate themselves without sacrificing the
means which would have secured their independence.

This, although a long digression, will not, I hope, be without its use;
and if this book is regarded not as a work of amusement but one of
practical experience, written for the benefit of others, it will not
fail to convey some useful hints to those who have contemplated emigration
to Canada: the best country in the world for the industrious and
well-principled man, who really comes out to work, and to better his
condition by the labour of his hands; but a gulf of ruin to the vain and
idle, who only set foot upon these shores to accelerate their ruin.

But to return to Captain N____. It was at this disastrous period that
Jenny entered his service. Had her master adapted his habits and
expenditure to his altered circumstances, much misery might have been
spared, both to himself and his family. But he was a proud man--too proud
to work, or to receive with kindness the offers of service tendered to him
by his half-civilized, but well-meaning neighbours.

"Hang him!" cried an indignant English settler (Captain N____ was an
Irishman), whose offer of drawing wood had been rejected with unmerited
contempt. "Wait a few years and we shall see what his pride will do for
him. _I am_ sorry for his poor wife and children; but for himself, I have
no pity for him."

This man had been uselessly insulted, at the very moment when he was
anxious to perform a kind and benevolent action; when, like a true
Englishman, his heart was softened by witnessing the sufferings of a young
delicate female and her infant family. Deeply affronted by the Captain's
foolish conduct, he now took a malignant pleasure in watching his arrogant
neighbour's progress to ruin.

The year after the sale of his commission, Captain N____ found himself
considerably in debt, "Never mind, Ella," he said to his anxious wife;
"the crops will pay all."

The crops were a failure that year. Creditors pressed hard; the Captain
had no money to pay his workmen, and he would not work himself. Disgusted
with his location, but unable to change it for a better; without friends
of his own class (for he was the only gentleman then resident in the new
township), to relieve the monotony of his existence with their society,
or to afford him advice or assistance in his difficulties, the fatal
whiskey-bottle became his refuge from gloomy thoughts.

His wife, an amiable and devoted creature, well born, well educated, and
deserving of a better lot, did all in her power to wean him from the
growing vice. But, alas! the pleadings of an angel, in such circumstances,
would have had little effect upon the mind of such a man. He loved her as
well as he could love any thing, and he fancied that he loved his
children, while he was daily reducing them, by his favourite vice, to
beggary.

For awhile, he confined his excesses to his own fireside, but this was
only for as long a period as the sale of his stock and laud would supply
him with the means of criminal indulgence. After a time, all these
resources failed, and his large grant of eight hundred acres of land had
been converted into whiskey, except the one hundred acres on which his
house and barn stood, embracing the small clearing from which the family
derived their scanty supply of wheat and potatoes. For the sake of peace,
his wife gave up all her ornaments and household plate, and the best
articles of a once handsome and ample wardrobe, in the hope of hiding her
sorrows from the world, and keeping her husband at home.

The pride, that had rendered him so obnoxious to his humbler neighbours,
yielded at length to the inordinate craving for drink; the man who had
held himself so high above his honest and industrious fellow-settlers,
could now unblushingly enter their cabins and beg for a drop of whiskey.
The feeling of shame once subdued, there was no end to his audacious
mendicity. His whole time was spent in wandering about the country,
calling upon every new settler, in the hope of being asked to partake of
the coveted poison. He was even known to enter by the window of an
emigrant's cabin, during the absence of the owner, and remain drinking in
the house while a drop of spirits could be found in the cupboard. When
driven forth by the angry owner of the hut, he wandered on to the distant
town of P____, and lived there in a low tavern, while his wife and
children were starving at home.

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