Benjamin Disraeli - "Ixion In Heaven"

Victor Appleton - "Tom Swift and his Wireless Message"

Edward Stratemeyer - "The Rover Boys in the Air"

Voltaire - "Le Monde comme il va, vision de Babouc"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Life in the Backwoods

S >> Susanna Moodie >> Life in the Backwoods




"He is the filthiest beast in the township," said the aforementioned
neighbour to me; "it would be a good thing for his wife and children if
his worthless neck were broken in one of hit, drunken sprees."

This might be the melancholy fact, but it was not the less dreadful on
that account. The husband of an affectionate wife--the father of a lovely
family--and his death to be a matter of rejoicing!--a blessing, instead of
being an affliction!--an agony not to be thought upon without the deepest
sorrow.

It was at this melancholy period of her sad history that Mrs. N____ found,
in Jenny Buchanan, a help in her hour of need. The heart of the faithful
creature bled for the misery; which involved the wife of her degraded
master, and the children she so dearly loved. Their want and destitution
called all the sympathies of her ardent nature into active operation; they
were long indebted to her labour for every morsel of food which they
consumed. For them, she sowed, she planted, she reaped. Every block of
wood which shed a cheering warmth around their desolate home was cut from
the forest by her own hands, and brought up a steep hill to the house upon
her back. For them, she coaxed the neighbours, with whom she was a general
favourite, out of many a mess of eggs for their especial benefit; while
with, her cheerful songs, and hearty, hopeful disposition, she dispelled
much of the cramping despair which chilled the heart of the unhappy mother
in her deserted home.

For several years did this great, poor woman keep the wolf from the door
of her beloved mistress, toiling for her with the strength and energy of a
man. When was man ever so devoted, so devoid of all selfishness, so
attached to employers, yet poorer than herself, as this uneducated
Irishwoman?

A period was at length put to her unrequited services. In a fit of
intoxication her master beat her severely with the iron ramrod of his gun,
and turned her, with abusive language, from his doors. Oh, hard return for
all her unpaid labours of love! She forgave this outrage for the sake of
the helpless beings who depended upon her care. He repeated the injury,
and the poor creature returned almost heart broken to her former home.

Thinking that his spite would subside in a few days, Jenny made a third
effort to enter his house in her usual capacity; but Mrs. N____ told her,
with many tears, that her presence would only enrage her husband, who had
threatened herself with the most cruel treatment if she allowed the
faithful servant again to enter the house. Thus ended her five years'
service to this ungrateful master. Such was her reward!

I heard of Jenny's worth and kindness from the Englishman who had been so
grievously affronted by Captain N____, and sent for her to come to me. She
instantly accepted my offer, and returned with my messenger. She had
scarcely a garment to cover her. I was obliged to find her a suit of
clothes before I could set her to work. The smiles and dimples of my
curly-headed, rosy little Donald, then a baby-boy of fifteen months,
consoled the old woman for her separation from Ellie N____; and the
good-will with which all the children (now four in number) regarded the
kind old body, soon endeared to her the new home which Providence had
assigned to her.

Her accounts of Mrs. N____, and her family, soon deeply interested me in
her fate; and Jenny never went to visit her friends in Dummer without an
interchange of good wishes passing between us.

The year of the Canadian rebellion came, and brought with it sorrow into
many a bush dwelling. Old Jenny and I were left alone with the little
children, in the depths of the dark forest, to help ourselves in the best
way we could. Men could not be procured in that thinly-settled spot for
love nor money, and I now fully realized the extent of Jenny's usefulness.
Daily she yoked the oxen, and brought down from the bush fuel to maintain
our fires, which she felled and chopped up with her own hands. She fed the
cattle, and kept all things snug about the doors; not forgetting to load
her master's two guns, "in case," as she said, "the ribels should attack
us in our retrate."

The months of November and December of 1838 had beer unnaturally mild for
this iron climate; but the opening of the ensuing January brought a short
but severe spell of frost and snow. We felt very lonely in our solitary
dwelling, crouching round the blazing fire, that scarcely chased the cold
from our miserable log tenement, until this dreary period was suddenly
cheered by the unexpected presence of my beloved friend, Emilia, who came
to spend a week with me in my forest home.

She brought her own baby-boy with her, and an ample supply of buffalo
robes, not forgetting a treat of baker's bread, and "sweeties" for the
children. Oh, dear Emilia! best and kindest of women, though absent in
your native land, long, long shall my heart cherish with affectionate
gratitude all your visits of love, and turn to you as to a sister, tried,
and found most faithful, in the dark hour of adversity, and amidst the
almost total neglect of those from whom nature claimed a tenderer and
holier sympathy.

Great was the joy of Jenny at this accession to our family party, and
after Mrs. S____ was well warmed, and had partaken of tea--the only
refreshment we could offer her--we began to talk over the news of the
place.

"By the by, Jenny," said she, turning to the old servant, who was
undressing the little boy by the fire, "have you heard lately from poor
Mrs. N____? We have been told that she and the family are in a dreadful
state of destitution. That worthless man has left them for the States, and
it is supposed that he has joined Mackenzie's band of ruffians on Navy
Island; but whether this be true or false, he has deserted his wife and
children, taking his eldest son along with him (who might have been of
some service at home), and leaving them without money or food."

"The good Lord! What will become of the crathurs?" responded Jenny, wiping
her wrinkled cheek with the back of her hard, brown hand. "An' thin they
have not a sowl to chop and draw them firewood; an' the weather so
oncommon savare. Och hone! what has not that _baste_ of a man to answer
for?"

"I heard," continued Mrs. S____, "that they have tasted no food but
potatoes for the last nine months, and scarcely enough of them to keep
soul and body together; that they have sold their last cow; and the poor
young lady and her second brother, a lad of only twelve years old, bring
all the wood for the fire from the bush on a hand-sleigh."

"Oh, dear!--oh, dear!" sobbed Jenny; "an' I not there to hilp them! An'
poor Miss Mary, the tinder thing! Oh, 'tis hard, terribly hard for the
crathurs! an' they not used to the like."

"Can nothing be done for them?" said I.

"That is what we want to know," returned Emilia, "and that was one of my
reasons for coming up to D____. I wanted to consult you and Jenny upon the
subject. You who are an officer's wife, and I, who am both an officer's
wife and daughter, ought to devise some plan of rescuing this unfortunate
lady and her family from her present forlorn situation."

The tears sprang to my eyes, and I thought, in the bitterness of my heart,
upon my own galling poverty, that my pockets did not contain even a single
copper, and that I had scarcely garments enough to shield me from the
inclemency of the weather. By unflinching industry, and taking my part in
the toil of the field, I had bread for myself and family, and this was
more than poor Mrs. N____ possessed; but it appeared impossible for me to
be of any assistance to the unhappy sufferer, and the thought of my
incapacity gave me severe pain. It was only in moments like the present
that I felt the curse of poverty.

"Well," continued my friend, "you see, Mrs. Moodie, that the ladies of
P____ are all anxious to do what they can for her; but they first want to
learn if the miserable circumstances in which she is said to be placed are
true. In short, my dear friend, they want you and me to make a pilgrimage
to Dummer, to see the poor lady herself; and then they will be guided by
our report."

"Then let us lose no time in going upon our own mission of mercy."

"Och, my dear heart, you will be lost in the woods!" said old Jenny. "It
is nine long miles to the first clearing, and that through a lonely,
blazed path. After you are through the beaver-meadow, there is not a
single hut for you to rest or warm yourselves. It is too much for the both
of yees; you will be frozen to death on the road."

"No fear," said my benevolent friend; "God will take care of us, Jenny. It
is on His errand we go; to carry a message of hope to one about to
perish."

"The Lord bless you for a darlint," cried the old woman, devoutly kissing
the velvet cheek of the little fellow sleeping upon her lap. "May your own
purty child never know the want and sorrow that is around her."

Emilia and I talked over the Dummer scheme until we fell asleep. Many were
the plans we proposed for the immediate relief of the unfortunate family.
Early the next morning, my brother-in-law, Mr. T____, called upon my
friend. The subject next our heart was immediately introduced, and he was
called into the general council. His feelings, like our own, were deeply
interested; and he proposed that we should each provide something from our
own small stores to satisfy the pressing wants of the distressed family;
while he promised to bring his cutter, the next morning, and take us
through the beaver-meadow, and to the edge of the great swamp, which would
shorten four miles, at least, of our long and hazardous journey.

We joyfully acceded to his proposal, and set cheerfully to work to provide
for the morrow. Jenny baked a batch of her very best bread, and boiled a
large piece of beef; and Mr. T____ brought with him, the next day, a fine
cooked ham, in a sack, into the bottom of which he stowed the beef and
loaves, besides some sugar and tea, which his own kind wife, the author of
"The Backwoods of Canada," had sent. I had some misgivings as to the
manner in which these good things could be introduced to the poor lady,
who, I had heard, was reserved and proud.

"Oh, Jenny," I said, "how shall I be able to ask her to accept provisions
from strangers? I am afraid of wounding her feelings."

"Oh, darlint, never fear'that! She is proud, I know; but 'tis not a stiff
pride, but jist enough to consale her disthress from her ignorant English
neighbours, who think so manely of poor folk like her who were once rich.
She will be very thankful to you for your kindness, for she has not
experienced much of it from the Dummer people in her throuble, though she
may have no words to tell you so. Say that old Jenny sent the bread to
dear wee Ellie, 'cause she knew she would like a loaf of Jenny's bakin'."

"But the meat."

"Och, the mate, is it? Maybe, you'll think of some excuse for the mate
when you get there."

"I hope so; but I'm a sad coward with strangers, and I have lived so long
out of the world that I am at a great loss what to do. I will try and put
a good face on the matter. Your name, Jenny, will be no small help to me."

All was now ready. Kissing our little bairns, who crowded around us with
eager and inquiring looks, and charging Jenny for the hundredth time to
take especial care of them during our absence, we mounted the cutter, and
set off, under the care and protection of Mr. T____, who determined to
accompany us on the journey.

It was a black, cold day; no sun visible in the gray, dark sky; a keen,
cutting wind, and hard frost. We crouched close to each other.

"Good heavens, how cold it is!" whispered Emilia. "What a day for such a
journey!"

She had scarcely ceased speaking, when the cutter went upon a stump which
lay concealed under the drifted snow; and we, together with the ruins of
our conveyance, were scattered around.

"A bad beginning," said my brother-in-law, with a rueful aspect, as he
surveyed the wreck of the cutter from which we had promised ourselves so
much benefit. "There is no help for it but to return home."

"Oh, no," said Mrs. S____; "bad beginnings make good endings, you know.
Let us go on; it will be far better walking than riding such a dreadful
day. My feet are half frozen already with sitting still."

"But, my dear madam," expostulated Mr. T____, "consider the distance, the
road, the dark, dull day, and our imperfect knowledge of the path. I will
get the cutter mended to-morrow; and the day after we may be able to
proceed."

"Delays are dangerous," said the pertinacious Emilia, who, woman-like, was
determined to have her own way. "Now or never. While we wait for the
broken cutter, the broken hearted Mrs. N____ may starve. We can stop at
Colonel C____'s and warm ourselves, and you can leave the cutter at his
house until our return."

"It was upon your account that I proposed the delay," said the good Mr.
T____, taking the sack, which was no inconsiderable weight, upon his
shoulder, and driving his horse before him into neighbour W____'s stable.
"Where you go, I am ready to follow."

When we arrived, Colonel C____'s family were at breakfast, of which they
made us partake; and after vainly endeavouring to dissuade us from what
appeared to them our Quixotic expedition, Mrs. C____ added a dozen fine
white fish to the contents of the sack, and sent her youngest son to help
Mr. T____ along with his burthen, and to bear us company on our desolate
road.

Leaving the Colonel's hospitable house on our left, we again plunged into
the woods, and after a few minutes' brisk walking, found ourselves upon
the brow of a steep bank that overlooked the beaver-meadow, containing
within its area several hundred acres.

There is no scenery in the bush that presents such a novel appearance as
those meadows, or openings, surrounded, as they invariably are, by dark,
intricate forests; their high, rugged banks covered with the light, airy
tamarack and silver birch. In summer they look like a lake of soft, rich
verdure, hidden in the bosom of the barren and howling waste. Lakes they
certainly have been, from which the waters have receded, "ages, ages long
ago;" and still the whole length of these curious level valleys is
traversed by a stream, of no inconsiderable dimensions.

The waters of the narrow, rapid creek, which flowed through the meadow we
were about to cross, were of sparkling brightness, and icy cold. The
frost-king had no power to check their swift, dancing movements, or stop
their perpetual song. On they leaped, sparkling and flashing beneath their
ice-crowned banks, rejoicing as they revelled on in their lonely course.
In the prime of the year, this is a wild and lovely spot, the grass is of
the richest green, and the flowers of the most gorgeous dyes. The gayest
butterflies float above them upon painted wings; and the whip-poor-will
pours forth from the neighbouring woods, at close of dewy eve, his strange
but sadly plaintive cry. Winter was now upon the earth, and the once green
meadow looked like a small forest lake covered with snow.

The first step we made into it plunged us up to the knees in the snow,
which was drifted to a great height in the open space. Mr. T____ and our
young friend C____ walked on ahead of us, in order to break a track
through the untrodden snow. We soon reached the cold creek; but here a new
difficulty presented itself. It was too wide to jump across, and we could
see no other way of passing to the other side.

"There must be some sort of a bridge hereabout," said young C____, "or how
can the people from Dummer pass constantly during the winter to and fro. I
will go along the bank, and halloo to you if I find one."

In a few minutes he gave the desired signal, and on reaching the spot, we
found a round, slippery log flung across the stream by way of bridge. With
some trouble, and after various slips, we got safely on the other side. To
wet our feet would have been to ensure their being frozen; and as it was,
we were not without serious apprehensions on that score. After crossing
the bleak, snowy plain, we scrambled over another brook, and entered the
great swamp, which occupied two miles of our dreary road.

It would be vain to attempt giving any description of this tangled maze of
closely-interwoven cedars, fallen trees, and loose-scattered masses of
rock. It seemed the fitting abode of wolves and bears, and every other
unclean beast. The fire had run through it during the summer, making the
confusion doubly confused. Now we stopped, half doubled, to crawl under
fallen branches that hung over our path, then again we had to clamber over
prostrate trees of great bulk, descending from which we plumped down into
holes in the snow, sinking mid-leg into the rotten trunk of some
treacherous, decayed pine-tree. Before we were half through the great
swamp, we began to think ourselves sad fools, and to wish that we were
safe again by our own firesides. But, then, a great object was in view,--
the relief of a distressed fellow-creature, and like the "full of hope,
misnamed forlorn," we determined to overcome every difficulty, and toil
on.

It took us an hour at least to clear the great swamp, from which we
emerged into a fine wood, composed chiefly of maple-trees. The sun had,
during our immersion in the dark shades of the swamp, burst through his
leaden shroud, and cast a cheery gleam along the rugged boles of the lofty
trees. The squirrel and chissmunk occasionally bounded across our path;
the dazzling snow which covered it reflected the branches above us in an
endless variety of dancing shadows. Our spirits rose in proportion. Young
C____ burst out singing, and Emilia and I laughed and chatted as we
bounded along our narrow road. On, on for hours, the same interminable
forest stretched away to the right and left, before and behind us.

"It is past twelve," said my brother T____, thoughtfully; "if we do not
soon come to a clearing, we may chance to spend the night in the forest."

"Oh, I am dying with hunger," cried Emilia. "Do, C____ give us one or two
of the cakes your mother put into the bag for us to eat upon the road."

The ginger-cakes were instantly produced. But where were the teeth to be
found that could masticate them? The cakes were frozen as hard as stones;
this was a great disappointment to us tired and hungry wights; but it only
produced a hearty laugh. Over the logs we went again; for it was a
perpetual stepping up and down, crossing the fallen trees that obstructed
our path. At last we came to a spot where two distinct blazed roads
diverged.

"What are we to do now?" said Mr. T____.

We stopped, and a general consultation was held, and without one
dissenting voice we took the branch to the right, which, after pursuing
for about half-a-mile, led us to a log hut of the rudest description.

"Is this the road to Dummer?" we asked a man, who was chopping wood
outside the fence.

"I guess you are in Dummer?" was the answer.

My heart leaped for joy, for I was dreadfully fatigued.

"Does this road lead through the English Line?"

"That's another thing," returned the woodman. "No; you turned off from the
right path when you came up here." We all looked very blank at each other.
"You will have to go back, and keep the other road, and that will lead you
straight to the English Line."

"How many miles is it to Mrs. N____'s?"

"Some four, or thereabouts," was the cheering rejoinder. "'Tis one of the
last clearings on the line. If you are going back to Douro to-night, you
must look sharp."

Sadly and dejectedly we retraced our steps. There are few trifling
failures more bitter in our journey through life than that of a tired
traveller mistaking his road. What effect must that tremendous failure
produce upon the human mind, when, at the end of life's unretraceable
journey, the traveller finds that he has fallen upon the wrong track
through every stage, and instead of arriving at the land of blissful
promise sinks for ever into the gulf of despair!

The distance we had trodden in the wrong path, while led on by hope and
anticipation, now seemed to double in length, as with painful steps we
toiled on to reach the right road. This object once attained, soon led us
to the dwellings of men.

Neat, comfortable log houses, surrounded by well-fenced patches of
clearing, arose on either side of the forest road; dogs flew out and
barked at us, and children ran shouting indoors to tell their respective
owners that strangers were passing their gates; a most unusual
circumstance, I should think, in that location.

A servant who had hired two years with my brother-in-law, we knew must
live somewhere in this neighbourhood, at whose fireside we hoped not only
to rest and warm ourselves, but to obtain something to eat. On going up to
one of the cabins to inquire for Hannah J____, we fortunately happened to
light upon the very person we sought. With many exclamations of surprise,
she ushered us into her neat and comfortable log dwelling.

A blazing fire, composed of two huge logs, was roaring up the wide
chimney, and the savoury smell that issued from a large pot of pea-soup
was very agreeable to our cold and hungry stomachs. But, alas, the
refreshment went no further! Hannah most politely begged us to take seats
by the fire, and warm and rest ourselves; she even knelt down and assisted
in rubbing our half-frozen hands; but she never once made mention of the
hot soup, or of the tea, which was drawing in a tin tea-pot upon the
hearth-stone, or of a glass of whiskey, which would have been thankfully
accepted by our male pilgrims.

Hannah was not an Irishwoman, no, nor a Scotch lassie, or her very first
request would have been for us to take "a pickle of soup," or "a sup of
thae warm broths." The soup was no doubt cooking for Hannah's husband and
two neighbours, who were chopping for him in the bush; and whose want of
punctuality she feelingly lamented.

As we left her cottage, and jogged on, Emilia whispered, laughing, "I hope
you are satisfied with your good dinner? Was not the pea-soup excellent?--
and that cup of nice hot tea!--I never relished any thing more in my life.
I think we should never pass that house without giving Hannah a call, and
testifying our gratitude for her good cheer."

Many times did we stop to inquire the way to Mrs. N____'s, before we
ascended the steep, bleak hill upon which her house stood. At the door,
Mr. T____ deposited the sack of provisions, and he and young C____ went
across the road to the house of an English settler (who, fortunately for
them, proved more hospitable than Hannah J____), to wait until our errand
was executed.

The house before which Emilia and I were standing had once been a
tolerably comfortable log dwelling. It was larger than such buildings
generally are, and was surrounded by dilapidated barns and stables, which
were not cheered by a solitary head of cattle. A black pine forest
stretched away to the north of the house, and terminated in a dismal,
tangled cedar swamp, the entrance to the house not having been constructed
to face the road.

The spirit that had borne me up during the journey died within me. I was
fearful that my visit would be deemed an impertinent intrusion. I knew not
in what manner to introduce myself and my embarrassment had been greatly
increased by Mrs. S____ declaring that I must break the ice, for she had
not courage to go in. I remonstrated, but she was firm. To hold any longer
parley was impossible. We were standing on the top of a bleak hill, with
the thermometer many degrees below zero, and exposed to the fiercest
biting of the bitter, cutting blast. With a heavy sigh, I knocked slowly
but decidedly at the crazy door. I saw the curly head of a boy glance for
a moment against the broken window. There was a stir within, but no one
answered our summons. Emilia was rubbing her hands together, and beating a
rapid tattoo with her feet upon the hard and glittering snow, to keep them
from freezing.

Again I appealed to the inhospitable door, with a vehemence which seemed
to say, "We are freezing, good people; in mercy let us in!"

Again there was a stir, and a whispered sound of voices, as if in
consultation, from within; and after waiting a few minutes longer--which,
cold as we were, seemed an age--the door was cautiously opened by a
handsome, dark-eyed lad of twelve years of age, who was evidently the
owner of the curly head that had been sent to reconnoitre us through the
window. Carefully closing the door after him, he stepped out upon the
snow, and asked us coldly but respectfully what we wanted. I told him that
we were two ladies, who had walked all the way from Douro to see his
mamma, and that we wished very much to speak to her. The lad answered us,
with the ease and courtesy of a gentleman, that he did not know whether
his mamma could be seen by strangers, but he would go in and see. So
saying he abruptly left us, leaving behind him an ugly skeleton of a dog,
who, after expressing his disapprobation at our presence in the most
disagreeable and unequivocal manner, pounced like a famished wolf upon the
sack of good things which lay at Emilia's feet; and our united efforts
could scarcely keep him off.

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