Life in the Backwoods

S >> Susanna Moodie >> Life in the Backwoods

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

When an Indian loses one of his children, he must keep a strict fast for
three days, abstaining from food of any kind. A hunter, of the name of
Young, told me a curious story of their rigid observance of this strange
rite.

"They had a chief," he said, "a few years ago, whom they called 'Handsome
Jack'--whether in derision, I cannot tell, for he was one of the ugliest
Indians I ever saw. The scarlet fever got into the camp--a terrible
disease in this country, and doubly terrible to those poor creatures who
don't know how to treat it. His eldest daughter died. The chief had fasted
two days when I met him in the bush. I did not know what had happened, but
I opened my wallet, for I was on a hunting expedition, and offered him
some bread and dried venison. He looked at me reproachfully.

"Do white men eat bread the first night their papouse is laid in the
earth?"

"I then knew the cause of his depression, and left him."

On the night of the second day of his fast another child died of the
fever. He had now to accomplish three more days without tasting food.
It was too much even for an Indian. On the evening of the fourth, he was
so pressed by ravenous hunger, that he stole into the woods, caught a
bull-frog, and devoured it alive. He imagined himself alone, but one of
his people, suspecting his intention, had followed him, unperceived, to
the bush. The act he had just committed was a hideous crime in their eyes,
and in a few minutes the camp was in an uproar. The chief fled for
protection to Young's house. When the hunter demanded the cause of his
alarm, he gave for answer, "There are plenty of flies at my house. To
avoid their stings I came to you."

It required all the eloquence of Mr. Young, who enjoyed much popularity
among them, to reconcile the rebellious tribe to their chief.

They are very skilful in their treatment of wounds, and many diseases.
Their knowledge of the medicinal qualities of their plants and herbs is
very great. They make excellent poultices from the bark of the bass and
the slippery-elm. They use several native plants in their dyeing of
baskets and porcupine quills. The inner bark of the swamp-alder, simply
boiled in water, makes a beautiful red. From the root of the black briony
they obtain a fine salve for sores, and extract a rich yellow dye. The
inner bark of the root of the sumach, roasted, and reduced to powder, is a
good remedy for the ague; a tea-spoonful given between the hot and cold
fit. They scrape the fine white powder from the large fungus that grows
upon the bark of the pine into whiskey, and take it for violent pains in
the stomach. The taste of this powder strongly reminded me of quinine.

I have read much of the excellence of Indian cookery, but I never could
bring myself to taste any thing prepared in their dirty wigwams. I
remember being highly amused in watching the preparation of a mess, which
might have been called the Indian hotch-potch. It consisted of a strange
mixture of fish, flesh, and fowl, all boiled together in the same vessel.
Ducks, partridges, muskinonge, venison, and muskrats, formed a part of
this delectable compound. These were literally smothered in onions,
potatoes, and turnips, which they had procured from me. They very
hospitably offered me a dishful of the odious mixture, which the odour of
the muskrats rendered every thing but savoury; but I declined, simply
stating that I was not hungry. My little boy tasted it, but quickly left
the camp to conceal the effect it produced upon him.

Their method of broiling fish, however, is excellent. They take a fish,
just fresh out of the water, cut out the entrails, and, without removing
the scales, wash it clean, dry it in a cloth, or in grease, and cover it
all over with clear hot ashes. When the flesh will part from the bone,
they draw it out of the ashes, strip off the skin, and it is fit for the
table of the most fastidious epicure.

The deplorable want of chastity that exists among the Indian women of this
tribe seems to have been more the result of their intercourse with the
settlers in the country than from any previous disposition to this vice.
The jealousy of their husbands has often been exercised in a terrible
manner against the offending squaws; but this has not happened of late
years. The men wink at these derelictions in their wives, and share with
them the price of their shame.

The mixture of European blood adds greatly to the physical beauty of the
half-race, but produces a sad falling off from the original integrity of
the Indian character. The half-caste is generally a lying, vicious roguel,
possessing the worst qualities of both parents in an eminent degree. We
have many of these half-Indians in the penitentiary, for crimes of the
blackest dye.

The skill of the Indian in procuring his game, either by land or water,
has been too well described by better writers than I could ever hope to
be, to need any illustration from my pen, and I will close this long
chapter with a droll anecdote which is told of a gentleman in this
neighbourhood.

The early loss of his hair obliged Mr.____ to procure the substitute of a
wig. This was such a good imitation of nature, that none but his intimate
friends and neighbours were aware of the fact. It happened that he had had
some quarrel with an Indian, which had to be settled in one of the petty
courts. The case was decided in favour of Mr.____, which so aggrieved the
savage, who considered himself the injured party, that he sprang upon him
with a furious yell, tomahawk in hand, with the intention of depriving him
of his scalp. He twisted his hand in the locks which adorned the cranium
of his adversary, when--horror of horrors!--the treacherous wig came off
in his hand, "Owgh! owgh!" exclaimed the affrighted savage, flinging it
from him, and rushing from the court as if he had been bitten by a
rattlesnake. His sudden exit was followed by peals of laughter from the
crowd, while Mr.____ coolly picked up his wig, and dryly remarked that it
had saved his head.

CHAPTER III.

BURNING THE FALLOW.

It is not my intention to give a regular history of our residence in the
bush, but merely to present to my readers such events as may serve to
illustrate a life in the woods.

The winter and spring of 1834 had passed away. The latter was uncommonly
cold and backward; so much so that we had a very heavy fall of snow upon
the 14th and 15th of May, and several gentlemen drove down to Cobourg in a
sleigh, the snow lying upon the ground to the depth of several inches.

A late, cold spring in Canada is generally succeeded by a burning, hot
summer; and the summer of '34 was the hottest I ever remember. No rain
fell upon the earth for many weeks, till nature drooped and withered
beneath one bright blaze of sunlight; and the ague and fever in the woods,
and the cholera in the large towns and cities, spread death and sickness
through the country.

Moodie had made during the winter a large clearing of twenty acres around
the house. The progress of the workmen had been watched by me with the
keenest interest. Every tree that reached the ground opened a wider gap in
the dark wood, giving us a broader ray of light and a clearer glimpse of
the blue sky. But when the dark cedar swamp fronting the house fell
beneath the strokes of the axe, and we got a first view of the lake my joy
was complete: a new and beautiful object was now constantly before me,
which gave me the greatest pleasure. By night and day, in sunshine or in
storm, water is always the most sublime feature in a landscape, and no
view can be truly grand in which it is wanting. From a child, it always
had the most powerful effect upon my mind, from the great ocean rolling in
majesty, to the tinkling forest rill, hidden by the flowers and rushes
along its banks. Half the solitude of my forest home vanished when the
lake unveiled its bright face to the blue heavens, and I saw sun and moon
and stars and waving trees reflected there. I would sit for hours at the
window as the shades of evening deepened round me, watching the massy
foliage of the forests pictured in the waters, till fancy transported me
back to England, and the songs of birds and the lowing of cattle were
sounding in my ears. It was long, very long, before I could discipline my
mind to learn and practise all the menial employments which are necessary
in a good settler's wife.

The total absence of trees about the doors in all new settlements had
always puzzled me, in a country where the intense heat of summer seems to
demand all the shade that can be procured. My husband had left several
beautiful rock-elms (the most picturesque tree in the country) near our
dwelling, but, alas! the first high gale prostrated all my fine trees, and
left our log cottage entirely exposed to the fierce rays of the sun. The
confusion of an uncleared fallow spread around us on every side. Huge
trunks of trees and piles of brush gave a littered and uncomfortable
appearance to the locality, and as the weather had been very dry for some
weeks, I heard my husband daily talking with his choppers as to the
expediency of firing the fallow. They still urged him to wait a little
longer, until he could get a good breeze to carry the fire well through
the brush.

Business called him suddenly to Toronto, but he left a strict charge with
old Thomas and his sons, who were engaged in the job, by no means to
attempt to burn it off till he returned, as he wished to be upon the
premises himself in case of any danger. He had previously burnt all the
heaps immediately about the doors. While he was absent, old Thomas and his
second son fell sick with the ague, and went home to their own township,
leaving John, a surly, obstinate young man, in charge of the shanty, where
they slept, and kept their tools and provisions. Monaghan I had sent to
fetch up my three cows, as the children were languishing for milk, and
Mary and I remained alone in the house with the little ones. The day was
sultry, and towards noon a strong wind sprang up that roared in the pine
tops like the dashing of distant billows, but without in the least degree
abating the heat. The children were lying listlessly upon the floor for
coolness, and the girl and I were finishing sun-bonnets, when Mary
suddenly exclaimed, "Bless us, mistress, what a smoke!" I ran immediately
to the door, but was not able to distinguish ten yards before me. The
swamp immediately below us was on fire, and the heavy wind was driving a
dense black cloud of smoke directly towards us.

"What can this mean?" I cried, "Who can have set fire to the fallow?"

As I ceased speaking, John Thomas stood pale and trembling before me.
"John, what is the meaning of this fire?"

"Oh, ma'am, I hope you will forgive me; it was I set fire to it, and I
would give all I have in the world if I had not done it."

"What is the danger?"

"Oh, I'm terribly afeard that we shall all be burnt up," said the fellow,
beginning to whimper.

"Why did you run such a risk, and your master from home, and no one on the
place to render the least assistance?"

"I did it for the best," blubbered the lad. "What shall we do?"

"Why, we must get out of it as fast as we can, and leave the house to its
fate."

"We can't get out," said the man, in a low, hollow tone, which seemed the
concentration of fear; "I would have got out of it if I could; but just
step to the back door, ma'am, and see."

I had not felt the least alarm up to this minute; I had never seen a
fallow burnt, but I had heard of it as a thing of such common occurrence
that I had never connected with it any idea of danger. Judge then, my
surprise, my horror, when, on going to the back door, I saw that the
fellow, to make sure of his work, had fired the field in fifty different
places. Behind, before, on every side, we were surrounded by a wall of
fire, burning furiously within a hundred yards of us, and cutting off all
possibility of retreat; for could we have found an opening through the
burning heaps, we could not have seen our way through the dense canopy of
smoke; and, buried as we were in the heart of the forest, no one could
discover our situation till we were beyond the reach of help. I closed the
door, and went back to the parlour. Fear was knocking loudly at my heart,
for our utter helplessness annihilated all hope of being able to effect
our escape--I felt stupefied. The girl sat upon the floor by the children,
who, unconscious of the peril that hung over them, had both fallen asleep.
She was silently weeping; while the fool who had caused the mischief was
crying aloud.

A strange calm succeeded my first alarm; tears and lamentations were
useless; a horrible death was impending over us, and yet I could not
believe that we were to die. I sat down upon the step of the door, and
watched the awful scene in silence. The fire was raging in the cedar
swamp, immediately below the ridge on which the house stood, and it
presented a spectacle truly appalling. From out the dense folds of a
canopy of black smoke, the blackest I ever saw, leaped up continually red
forks of lurid flame as high as the tree tops, igniting the branches of a
group of tall pines that had been left standing for sun-logs. A deep gloom
blotted out the heavens from our sight. The air was filled with fiery
particles, which floated even to the door-step--while the crackling and
roaring of the flames might have been heard at a great distance. Could we
have reached the lake shore, where several canoes were moored at the
landing, by launching out into the water we should have been in perfect
safety; but, to attain this object, it was necessary to pass through this
mimic hell; and not a bird could have flown over it with unscorched wings.
There was no hope in that quarter, for, could we have escaped the flames,
we should have been blinded and choked by the thick, black, resinous
smoke. The fierce wind drove the flames at the sides and back of the house
up the clearing; and our passage to the road, or to the forest, on the
right and left, was entirely obstructed by a sea of flames. Our only ark
of safety was the house, so long as it remained untouched by the consuming
element. I turned to young Thomas, and asked him, how long he thought that
would be.

"When the fire clears this little ridge in front, ma'am. The Lord have
mercy upon us, then, or we must all go!"

"Cannot _you_, John, try and make your escape, and see what can be done
for us and the poor children?"

My eye fell upon the sleeping angels, locked peacefully in each other's
arms, and my tears flowed for the first time. Mary, the servant-girl,
looked piteously up in my face. The good, faithful creature had not
uttered one word of complaint, but now she faltered forth,

"The dear, precious lambs!--Oh! such a death!"

I threw myself down upon the floor beside them, and pressed them
alternately to my heart, while inwardly I thanked God that they were
asleep, unconscious of danger, and unable by their childish cries to
distract our attention from adopting any plan which might offer to effect
their escape.

The heat soon became suffocating. We were parched with thirst, and there
was not a drop of water in the house, and none to be procured nearer than
the lake. I turned once more to the door, hoping that a passage might
have-been burnt through to the water. I saw nothing but a dense cloud of
fire and smoke--could hear nothing but the crackling and roaring of
flames, which were gaining so fast upon us that I felt their scorching
breath in my face.

"Ah," thought I--and it was a most bitter thought--"what will my beloved
husband say when he returns and finds that poor Susy and his dear girls
have perished in this miserable manner? But God can save us yet."

The thought had scarcely found a voice in my heart before the wind rose to
a hurricane, scattering the flames on all sides into a tempest of burning
billows. I buried my head in my apron, for I thought that our time was
come, and that all was lost, when a most terrific crash of thunder burst
over our heads, and, like the breaking of a water-spout, down came the
rushing torrent of rain which had been pent up for so many weeks. In a few
minutes the chip-yard was all afloat, and the fire effectually checked.
The storm which, unnoticed by us, had been gathering all day, and which
was the only one of any note we had that summer, continued to rage all
night, and before morning had quite subdued the cruel enemy, whose
approach we had viewed with such dread.

The imminent danger in which we had been placed struck me more forcibly
after it was past than at the time, and both the girl and myself sank upon
our knees, and lifted up our hearts in humble thanksgiving to that God who
had saved us by an act of His Providence from an awful and sudden death.
When all hope from human assistance was lost, His hand was mercifully
stretched forth, making His strength more perfectly manifested in our
weakness:--

"He is their stay when earthly help is lost,
The light and anchor of the tempest-toss'd."

There vas one person, unknown to us, who had watched the progress of that
rash blaze, and had even brought his canoe to the landing, in the hope of
getting us off. This was an Irish pensioner named Dunn, who had cleared a
few acres on his government grant, and had built a shanty on the opposite
shore of the lake.

"Faith, madam! an' I thought the captain was stark, staring mad to fire
his fellow on such a windy day, and that blowing right from the lake to
the house. When Old Wittals came in and towld us that the masther was not
to the fore, but only one lad, an' the wife an' the chilther at home,--
thinks I, there's no time to be lost, or the crathurs will be burnt up
intirely. We started instanther, but, by Jove! We were too late. The swamp
was all in a blaze when we got to the landing, and you might as well have
tried to get to heaven by passing through the other place."

This was the eloquent harangue with which the honest creature informed me
the next morning of the efforts he had made to save us, and the interest
he had felt in our critical situation. I felt comforted for my past
anxiety, by knowing that one human being, however humble, had sympathized
in our probable fate; while the providential manner in which we had been
rescued will ever remain a theme of wonder and gratitude.

The next evening brought the return of my husband, who listened to the
tale of our escape with a pale and disturbed countenance; not a little
thankful to find his wife and children still in the land of the living.
For a long time after the burning of that fallow, it haunted me in my
dreams. I would awake with a start, imagining myself fighting with the
flames, and endeavouring to carry my little children through them to the
top of the clearing, when invariably their garments and my own took fire
just as I was within reach of a place of safety.

CHAPTER IV.

OUR LOGGING-BEE.

There was a man in our town,
In our town, in our town--
There was a man in our town,
He made a logging-bee;

And he bought lots of whiskey,
To make the loggers frisky--
To make the loggers frisky
At his logging bee

The Devil sat on a log heap,
A log heap, a log heap--
A red hot burning log heap--
A-grinning at the bee;

And there was lots of swearing,
Of boasting and of daring,
Of fighting and of tearing,
At that logging bee

J. W. D. M.

A logging-bee followed the burning of the fallow, as a matter of course.
In the bush, where hands are few, and labour commands an enormous rate of
wages, these gatherings are considered indispensable, and much has been
written in their praise; but, to me, they present the most disgusting
picture of a bush life. They are noisy, riotous, drunken meetings, often
terminating in violent quarrels, sometimes even in bloodshed. Accidents of
the most serious nature often occur, and very little work is done, when we
consider the number of hands employed, and the great consumption of food
and liquor. I am certain, in our case, had we hired with the money
expended in providing for the bee, two or three industrious, hard-working
men, we should have got through twice as mueh work, and have had it done
well, and have been the gainers in the end.

People in the woods have a craze for giving and going to bees, and run to
them with as much eagerness as a peasant runs to a race-course or a fair;
plenty of strong drink and excitement making the chief attraction of the
bee. In raising a house or barn, a bee may be looked upon as a necessary
evil, but these gatherings are generally conducted in a more orderly
manner than those for logging. Fewer hands are required; and they are
generally under the control of the carpenter who puts up the frame, and if
they get drunk during the raising they are liable to meet with very
serious accidents.

Thirty-two men, gentle and simple, were invited to our bee, and the maid
and I were engaged for two days preceding the important one, in baking and
cooking for the entertainment of our guests. When I looked at the quantity
of food we had prepared, I thought that it never could be all eaten, even
by thirty-two men. It was a burning-hot day towards the end of July, when
our loggers began to come in, and the "gee!" and "ha!" of the oxen
resounded on every side. There was my brother S____, with his frank
English face, a host in himself; Lieutenant ____ in his blouse, wide white
trowsers, and red sash, his broad straw hat shading a dark manly face that
would have been a splendid property for a bandit chief; the four gay,
reckless, idle sons of ____, famous at any spree, but incapable of the
least mental or physical exertion, who considered hunting and fishing as
the sole aim and object of life. These young men rendered very little
assistance themselves, and their example deterred others who were inclined
to work.

There were the two R____s, who came to work and to make others work; my
good brother-in-law, who had volunteered to be the Grog Bos, and a host of
other settlers, among whom I recognized Moodie's old acquaintance, Dan
Simpson, with his lank red hair and long freckled face: the Youngs, the
hunters, with their round, black, curly heads and rich Irish brogue; poor
C____, with his long, spare, consumptive figure, and thin, sickly face.
Poor fellow, he has long since been gathered to his rest!

There was the ruffian squatter P____, from Clear Lake,--the dread of all
honest men; the brutal M____, who treated oxen as if they had been logs,
by beating them with handspikes; and there was Old Wittals, with his low
forehead and long nose, a living witness of the truth of phrenology, if
his large organ of acquisitiveness and his want of conscientiousness could
be taken in evidence. Yet in spite of his derelictions from honesty, he
was a hard-working, good-natured man, who, if he cheated you in a bargain,
or took away some useful article in mistake from your homestead, never
wronged his employer in his day's work.

He was a curious sample of cunning and simplicity--quite a character in
his way--and the largest eater I ever chanced to know. From this ravenous
propensity, for he eat his food like a famished wolf, he had obtained the
singular name of "Wittals." During the first year of his settlement in the
bush, with a very large family to provide for, he had been often in want
of food. One day he came to my brother, with a very long face.

"'Fore God! Mr. S---, I'm no beggar, but I'd be obliged to you for a loaf
of bread. I declare to you on my honour that I have not had a bit of
wittals to dewour for two whole days."

He came to the right person with his petition. Mr. S--- with a liberal
hand relieved his wants, but he entailed upon him the name of "Old
Wittals," as part payment. His daughter, who was a very pretty girl, had
stolen a march upon him into the wood, with a lad whom he by no means
regarded with a favourable eye. When she returned, the old man
confronted her and her lover with this threat, which I suppose he
considered "the most awful" punishment that he could devise.

"March into the house, Madam 'Ria (Maria); and if ever I catch you with
that scamp again, I'll tie you up to a stump all day, and give you no
wittals."

I was greatly amused by overhearing a dialogue between Old Wittals and one
of his youngest sons, a sharp, Yankeefied-looking boy, who had lost one of
his eyes, but the remaining orb looked as if it could see all ways at
once.

"I say, Sol, how came you to tell that tarnation tearing lie to Mr. S____
yesterday? Didn't you expect that you'd catch a good wallopping for the
like of that? Lying may be excusable in a man, but 'tis a terrible bad
habit in a boy."

"Lor', father, that worn't a lie. I told Mr. S____, our cow worn't in his
peas. Nor more she wor; she was in his wheat."

"But she was in the peas all night, boy."

"That wor nothing to me; she worn't in just then. Sure I won't get a
licking for that?"

"No, no, you are a good boy; but mind what I tell you, and don't bring me
into a scrape with any of your real lies."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16