Life in the Backwoods

S >> Susanna Moodie >> Life in the Backwoods

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"A cold, doubtful reception, this!" said my friend, turning her back to
the wind, and hiding her face in her muff. "This is worse than Hannah's
liberality, and the long, weary walk."

I thought so too, and begun to apprehend that our walk had been in vain,
when the lad again appeared, and said that we might walk in, for his
mother was dressed.

Emilia, true to her determination, went no farther than the passage. In
vain were all my entreating looks and mute appeals to her benevolence and
friendship; I was forced to enter alone the apartment that contained the
distressed family.

I felt that I was treading upon sacred ground, for a pitying angel hovers
over the abode of suffering virtue, and hallows all its woes. On a rude
bench, before the fire, sat a lady, between thirty and forty years of age,
dressed in a thin, coloured muslin gown, the most inappropriate garment
for the rigour of the season, but, in all probability, the only decent one
that she retained. A subdued melancholy looked forth from her large, dark,
pensive eyes. She appeared like one who, having discovered the full extent
of her misery, had proudly steeled her heart to bear it. Her countenance
was very pleasing, and, in early life (but she was still young), she must
have been eminently handsome. Near her, with her head bent down, and
shaded by her thin, slender hand, her slight figure scarcely covered by
her scanty clothing, sat her eldest daughter, a gentle, sweet-looking
girl, who held in her arms a baby brother, whose destitution she
endeavoured to conceal. It was a touching sight; that suffering girl, just
stepping into womanhood, hiding against her young bosom the nakedness of
the little creature she loved. Another fine boy, whose neatly-patched
clothes had not one piece of the original stuff apparently left in them,
stood behind his mother, with dark, glistening eyes fastened upon me, as
if amused, and wondering who I was, and what business I could have there.
A pale and attenuated, but very pretty, delicately featured little girl
was seated on a low stool before the fire This was old Jenny's darling,
Ellie, or Eloise. A rude bedstead, of home manufacture, in a corner of the
room, covered with a coarse woollen quilt, contained two little boys, who
had crept into it to conceal their wants from the eyes of the stranger. On
the table lay a dozen peeled potatoes, and a small pot was boiling on the
fire, to receive this their scanty and only daily meal. There was such an
air of patient and enduring suffering in the whole group, that, as I gazed
heart-stricken upon it, my fortitude quite gave way, and I burst into
tears.

Mrs. N____ first broke the painful silence, and, rather proudly, asked me
to whom she had the pleasure of speaking. I made a desperate effort to
regain my composure, and told her, but with much embarrassment, my name;
adding that I was so well acquainted with her and her children, through
Jenny, that I could not consider her as a stranger; that I hoped that, as
I was the wife of an officer, and, like her, a resident in the bush, and
well acquainted with all its trials and privations, she would look upon me
as a friend.

She seemed surprised and annoyed, and I found no small difficulty in
introducing the object of my visit; but the day was rapidly declining, and
I knew that not a moment was to be lost. At first she coldly rejected all
offers of service, and said that she was contented, and wanted for
nothing.

I appealed to the situation in which I beheld herself and her children,
and implored her, for their sakes, not to refuse help from friends who
felt for her distress. Her maternal feelings triumphed over her assumed
indifference, and when she saw me weeping, for I could no longer restrain
my tears, her pride yielded, and for some minutes not a word was spoken. I
heard the large tears, as they slowly fell from her daughter's eyes, drop
one by one upon her garments.

At last the poor girl sobbed out, "Dear mamma, why conceal the truth? You
know that we are nearly naked, and starving."

Then came the sad tale of domestic woes:--the absence of the husband and
eldest son; the uncertainty as to where they were, or in what engaged; the
utter want of means to procure the common necessaries of life; the sale of
the only remaining cow that used to provide the children with food. It had
been sold for twelve dollars, part to be paid in cash, part in potatoes;
the potatoes were nearly exhausted, and they were allowanced to so many a
day. But the six dollars she had retained as their last resource! Alas!
she had sent the eldest boy the day before to P____, to get a letter out
of the post-office, which she hoped contained some tidings of her husband
and son. She was all anxiety and expectation--but the child returned late
at night without the letter which they had longed for with such feverish
impatience. The six dollars upon which they had depended for a supply of
food were in notes of the Farmer's Bank, which at that time would not pass
for money, and which the roguish purchaser of the cow had passed off upon
this distressed family.

Oh! imagine, ye who revel in riches--who can daily throw away a large sum
upon the merest toy--the cruel disappointment, the bitter agony of this
poor mother's heart, when she received this calamitous news, in the midst
of her starving children. For the last nine weeks they had lived upon a
scanty supply of potatoes;--they had not tasted raised bread or animal
food for eighteen months.

"Ellie," said I, anxious to introduce the sack, which had lain like a
nightmare upon my mind, "I have something for you; Jenny baked some loaves
last night, and sent them to you with her best love."

The eyes of all the children grew bright. "You will find the sack with the
bread in the passage," said I to one of the boys. He rushed joyfully out,
and returned with Mrs. ____ and the sack. Her bland and affectionate
greeting restored us all to tranquillity.

The delighted boy opened the sack. The first thing he produced was the
ham.

"Oh," said I, "that is a ham that my sister sent to Mrs. N____; 'tis of
her own curing, and she thought that it might be acceptable."

Then came the white fish, nicely packed in a clean cloth. "Mrs. C____
thought fish might be a treat to Mrs. N____, as she lived so far from the
great lakes." Then came Jenny's bread, which had already been introduced.
The beef, and tea, and sugar, fell upon the floor without any comment.
The first scruples had been overcome, and the day was ours.

"And now, ladies," said Mrs. N____, with true hospitality, "since you have
brought refreshments with you, permit me to cook something for your
dinner."

The scene I had just witnessed had produced such a choking sensation that
all my hunger had vanished. Before we could accept or refuse Mrs. N____'s
kind offer, Mr. T____ arrived, to hurry us off.

It was two o'clock when we descended the hill in front of the house, that
led by a side-path round to the road, and commenced our homeward route. I
thought the four miles of clearings would never be passed; and the English
Line appeared to have no end. At length we entered once more the dark
forest.

The setting sun gleamed along the ground; the necessity of exerting our
utmost speed, and getting through the great swamp before darkness
surrounded us, was apparent to all. The men strode vigorously forward, for
they had been refreshed with a substantial dinner of potatoes and pork,
washed down with a glass of whiskey, at the cottage in which they had
waited for us; but poor Emilia and I, faint, hungry, and foot-sore, it was
with the greatest difficulty we could keep up. I thought of Rosalind, as
our march up and down the fallen logs recommenced, and often exclaimed
with her, "Oh, Jupiter! how weary are my legs!"

Night closed in just as we reached the beaver-meadow. Here our ears were
greeted with the sound of well-known voices. James and Henry C____ had
brought the ox-sleigh to meet us at the edge of the bush. Never was
splendid equipage greeted with such delight. Emilia and I, now fairly
exhausted with fatigue, scrambled into it, and lying down on the straw
which covered the bottom of the rude vehicle, we drew the buffalo robes
over our faces, and actually slept soundly until we reached Colonel
C____'s hospitable door.

An excellent supper of hot fish and fried venison was smoking on the
table, with other good cheer, to which we did ample justice. I, for one,
was never so hungry in my life. We had fasted for twelve hours, and that
on an intensely cold day, and had walked during that period upwards of
twenty miles. Never, never shall I forget that weary walk to Dummer; but a
blessing followed it.

It was midnight when Emilia and I reached my humble home; our good friends
the oxen being again put in requisition to carry us there. Emilia went
immediately to bed, from which she was unable to rise for several days. In
the mean while I wrote to Moodie an account of the scene I had witnessed,
and he raised a subscription among the officers of the regiment for the
poor lady and her children, which amounted to forty dollars. Emilia lost
no time in making a full report to her friends at P____; and before a week
passed away, Mrs. N____ and her family were removed thither by several
benevolent individuals in the place. A neat cottage was hired for her;
and, to the honour of Canada be it spoken, all who could afford a donation
gave cheerfully. Farmers left at her door, pork, beef, flour, and
potatoes; the storekeepers sent groceries, and goods to make clothes for
the children; the shoemakers contributed boots for the boys; while the
ladies did all in their power to assist and comfort the gentle creature
thus thrown by Providence upon their bounty.

While Mrs. N____ remained at P____ she did not want for any comfort. Her
children were clothed and her rent paid by her benevolent friends, and her
house supplied with food and many comforts from the same source. Respected
and beloved by all who knew her, it would have been well had she never
left the quiet asylum where, for several years, she enjoyed tranquillity,
and a respectable competence from her school; but in an evil hour she
followed her worthless husband to the Southern States, and again suffered
all the woes which drunkenness inflicts upon the wives and children of its
degraded victims.

CHAPTER XII.

A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS.

During my illness, a kind neighbour, who had not only frequently come to
see me, but had brought me many nourishing things, made by her own fair
hands, took a great fancy to my second daughter, who, lively and volatile,
could not be induced to remain quiet in the sick chamber. The noise she
made greatly retarded my recovery, and Mrs. H____ took her home with her,
as the only means of obtaining for me necessary rest. During that winter,
and through the ensuing summer, I only received occasional visits from my
little girl, who, fairly established with her new friends, looked upon
their house as her home.

This separation, which was felt as a great benefit at the time, greatly
estranged the affections of the child from her own people. She saw us so
seldom that she almost regarded us, when she did meet, as strangers; and I
often deeply lamented the hour when I had unwittingly suffered the
threefold cord of domestic love to be unravelled by absence, and the
flattering attentions which fed the vanity of a beautiful child, without
strengthening her moral character. Mrs. H____, whose husband was wealthy,
was a generous, warmhearted girl of eighteen. Lovely in person, and
fascinating in manners, and still too young to have any idea of forming
the character of a child, she dressed the little creature expensively;
and, by constantly praising her personal appearance, gave her an idea of
her own importance which it took many years to eradicate.

It is a great error to suffer a child, who has been trained in the hard
school of poverty and self-denial, to be transplanted suddenly into the
hot-bed of wealth and luxury. The idea of the child being so much happier
and better off blinds her fond parents to the dangers of her new
situation, where she is sure to contract a dislike to all useful
occupation, and to look upon scanty means and plain clothing as a
disgrace. If the reaction is bad for a grown-up person, it is almost
destructive to a child who is incapable of moral reflection. Whenever I
saw little Addie, and remarked the growing coldness of her manner towards
us, my heart reproached me for having exposed her to temptation.

Still, in the eye of the world, she was much better situated than she
could possibly be with us. The heart of the parent could alone understand
the change.

So sensible was her father of this alteration, that the first time he paid
us a visit he went and brought home his child.

"If she remain so long away from us, at her tender years," he said, "she
will cease to love us. All the wealth in the world would not compensate me
for the love of my child."

The removal of my sister rendered my separation from my husband doubly
lonely and irksome. Sometimes the desire to see and converse with him
would press so painfully on my heart that I would get up in the night,
strike a light, and sit down and write him a long letter, and tell him all
that was in my mind; and when I had thus unburdened my spirit, the letter
was committed to the flames, and after fervently commending him to the
care of the Great Father of mankind, I would lay down my throbbing head on
my pillow beside our first-born son, and sleep tranquilly.

It is a strange fact that many of my husband's letters to me were written
at the very time when I felt those irresistible impulses to hold communion
with him. Why should we be ashamed to admit openly our belief in this
mysterious intercourse between the spirits of those who are bound to each
other by the tender ties of friendship and affection, when the experience
of every day proves its truth? Proverbs, which are the wisdom of ages
collected into a few brief words, tell us in one pithy sentence that
"if we talk of the devil he is sure to appear." While the name of a
long-absent friend is in our mouth, the next moment brings him into our
presence. How can this be, if mind did not meet mind, and the spirit had
not a prophetic consciousness of the vicinity of another spirit, kindred
with its own? This is an occurrence so common that I never met with any
person to whom it had not happened; few will admit it to be a spiritual
agency, but in no other way can they satisfactorily explain its cause. If
it were a mere coincidence, or combination of ordinary circumstances, it
would not happen so often, and people would not be led to speak of the
long absent always at the moment when they are just about to present
themselves before them. My husband was no believer in what he termed my
fanciful, speculative theories; yet at the time when his youngest boy and
myself lay dangerously ill, and hardly expected to live, I received from
him a letter, written in great haste, which commenced with this sentence:
"Do write to me, dear S____, when you receive this. I have felt very
uneasy about you for some days past, and am afraid that all is not right
at home."

Whence came this sudden fear? Why at that particular time did his thoughts
turn so despondingly towards those so dear to him? Why did the dark cloud
in his mind hang so heavily above his home? The burden of my weary and
distressed spirit had reached him; and without knowing of our sufferings
and danger, his own responded to the call.

The holy and mysterious nature of man is yet hidden from himself; he is
still a stranger to the movements of that inner life, and knows little of
its capabilities and powers. A purer religion, a higher standard of moral
and intellectual training, may in time reveal all this. Man still remains
a half-reclaimed savage; the leaven of Christianity is slowly and surely
working its way, but it has not yet changed the whole lump, or transformed
the deformed into the beauteous child of God. Oh, for that glorious day!
It is coming. The dark clouds of humanity are already tinged with the
golden radiance of the dawn, but the sun of righteousness has not yet
arisen upon the world with healing on his wings; the light of truth still
struggles in the womb of darkness, and man stumbles on to the fulfilment
of his sublime and mysterious destiny.

This spring I was not a little puzzled how to get in the crops. I still
continued so weak that I was quite unable to assist in the field, and my
good old Jenny was sorely troubled with inflamed feet, which required
constant care. At this juncture, a neighbouring settler, who had recently
come among us, offered to put in my small crop of peas, potatoes, and
oats, in all not comprising more than eight acres, if I would lend him my
oxen to log-up a large fallow of ten acres, and put in his own crops.
Trusting to his fair dealing, I consented to this arrangement; but he took
advantage of my isolated position, and not only logged-up his fallow, but
put in all his spring crops before he sowed an acre of mine. The oxen were
worked down so low that they were almost unfit for use, and my crops were
put in so late, and with such little care, that they all proved a failure.
I should have felt this loss more severely had it happened in any previous
year, but I had ceased to feel that deep interest in the affairs of the
farm, from a sort of conviction in my own mind that it would not long
remain my home.

Jenny and I did our best in the way of hoeing and weeding; but no industry
on our part could repair the injury done to the seed by being sown out of
season.

We therefore confined our attention to the garden, which, as usual, was
very productive, and with milk, fresh butter, and eggs, supplied the
simple wants of our family. Emilia enlivened our solitude by her company,
for several weeks during the summer, and we had many pleasant excursions
on the water together.

My knowledge of the use of the paddle, however, was not entirely without
its danger.

One very windy Sunday afternoon, a servant-girl, who lived with my friend
Mrs. C____, came crying to the house, and implored the use of my canoe and
paddles, to cross the lake to see her dying father. The request was
instantly granted; but there was no man upon the place to ferry her
across, and she could not manage the boat herself--in short, had never
been in a canoe in her life.

The girl was deeply distressed. She said that she had got word that her
father could scarcely live till she could reach Smith-town; that if she
went round by the bridge, she must walk five miles, while if she crossed
the lake she could be home in half-an-hour.

I did not much like the angry swell upon the water, but the poor creature
was in such grief that I told her, if she was not afraid of venturing with
me, I would try and put her over.

She expressed her thanks in the warmest terms, accompanied by a shower of
blessings; and I took the paddles and went down to the landing. Jenny was
very averse to my _tempting Providence_, as she termed it, and wished that
I might get back as safe as I went. However, the old woman launched the
canoe for me, pushed us from the shore, and away we went. The wind was in
my favour, and I found so little trouble in getting across that I began to
laugh at my own timidity. I put the girl on shore, and endeavoured to
shape my passage home. But this I found was no easy task. The water was
rough, and the wind high, and the strong current, which runs through that
part of the lake to the Smith rapids, was dead against me. In vain I
laboured to cross this current; it resisted all my efforts, and at each
repulse I was carried further down towards the rapids, which were full of
sunken rocks, and hard for the strong arm of a man to stem--to the weak
hand of a woman their safe passage was impossible. I began to feel rather
uneasy at the awkward situation in which I found myself placed, and for
some time I made desperate efforts to extricate myself, by paddling with
all my might. I soon gave this up, and contented myself by steering the
canoe in the path it thought fit to pursue. After drifting down with the
current for some little space, until I came opposite a small island, I put
out all my strength to gain the land. In this I fortunately succeeded, and
getting on shore, I contrived to drag the canoe so far round the headland
that I got her out of the current. All now was smooth sailing, and I
joyfully answered old Jenny's yells from the landing, that I was safe, and
would join her in a few minutes.

This fortunate manoeuvre stood me in good stead upon another occasion,
when crossing the lake, some weeks after this, in company with a young
female friend, during a sudden storm.

Two Indian women, heavily laden with their packs of dried venison, called
at the house to borrow the canoe, to join their encampment upon the other
side. It so happened that I wanted to send to the mill that afternoon, and
the boat could not be returned in time without I went over with the Indian
women and brought it back. My young friend was delighted at the idea of
the frolic, and as she could both steer and paddle, and the day was calm
and bright, though excessively warm, we both agreed to accompany the
squaws to the other side, and bring back the canoe.

Mrs. Muskrat had fallen in love with a fine fat kitten, whom the children
had called "Buttermilk," and she begged so hard for the little puss, that
I presented it to her, rather marvelling how she would contrive to carry
it so many miles through the woods, and she loaded with such an enormous
pack; when, lo! the squaw took down the bundle, and, in the heart of the
piles of dried venison, she deposited the cat in a small basket, giving it
a thin slice of the meat to console it for its close confinement. Puss
received the donation with piteous mews; it was evident that mice and
freedom were preferred by her to venison and the honour of riding on a
squaw's back.

The squaws paddled us quickly across, and we laughed and chatted as we
bounded over the blue waves, until we were landed in a dark cedar swamp,
in the heart of which we found the Indian encampment.

A large party were lounging around the fire, superintending the drying of
a quantity of venison which was suspended on forked sticks. Besides the
flesh of the deer, a number of muskrats were skinned, and extended as if
standing bolt upright before the fire, warming their paws. The appearance
they cut was most ludicrous. My young friend pointed to the muskrats, as
she sank down, laughing, upon one of the skins.

Old Snow-storm, who was present, imagined that she wanted one of them to
eat, and very gravely handed her the unsavoury beast, stick and all.

"Does the old man take me for a cannibal?" she said "I would as soon eat a
child."

Among the many odd things cooking at that fire there was something that
had the appearance of a bull-frog.

"What can that be?" she said, directing my eyes to the strange monster.
"Surely they don't eat bull-frogs!"

This sally was received by a grunt of approbation from Snow-storm; and,
though Indians seldom forget their dignity so far as to laugh, he for once
laid aside his stoical gravity, and, twirling the thing round with a
stick, burst into a hearty peal.

"_Muckakee!_ Indian eat _muckakee?_--Ha! ha! Indian no eat _muckakee!_
Frenchmans eat his hind legs; they say the speckled beast much good. This
no _muckakee!_--the liver of deer, dried--very nice--Indian eat him."

"I wish him much joy of the delicate morsel," said the saucy girl, who was
intent upon quizzing and examining every thing in the camp.

We had remained the best part of an hour, when Mrs. Muskrat laid hold of
my hand, and leading me through the bush to the shore, pointed up
significantly to a cloud, as dark as night, that hung loweringly over the
bush.

"Thunder in that cloud--get over the lake--quick, quick, before it
breaks." Then motioning for us to jump into the canoe, she threw in the
paddles, and pushed us from the shore.

We saw the necessity of haste, and both plied the paddle with diligence to
gain the opposite bank, or at least the shelter of the island, before the
cloud poured down its fury upon us. We were just in the middle of the
current when the first peal of thunder broke with startling nearness over
our heads. The storm frowned darkly upon the woods; the rain came down in
torrents; and there were we exposed to its utmost fury in the middle of a
current too strong for us to stem.

"What shall we do? We shall be drowned!" said my young friend, turning her
pale, tearful face towards me.

"Let the canoe float down the current till we get close to the island;
then run her into the land. I saved myself once before by this plan."

We did so, and were safe; but there we had to remain, wet to our skins,
until the wind and the rain abated sufficiently for us to manage our
little craft. "How do you like being upon the lake in a storm like this?"
I whispered to my shivering, dripping companion.

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