Roughing It in the Bush Part 37

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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sage 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 the 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 his poor Susy and his dear girls have perished in this miserable manner? But G.o.d 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 ap.r.o.n, 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 G.o.d who had saved us by an act of His Providence from an awful and sudden death. When all hope from human a.s.sistance 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 was 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 us getting 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 sh.o.r.e of the lake.

"Faith, madam! an' I thought the captain was stark, staring mad to fire his fallow 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 thried to get to heaven by pa.s.sing 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 sympathised in our probable fate, while the providential manner in which we had been rescued will ever remain a theme of wonder and grat.i.tude.

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.

THE FORGOTTEN DREAM

Ere one ruddy streak of light Glimmer'd o'er the distant height, Kindling with its living beam Frowning wood and cold grey stream, I awoke with sudden start, Clammy brow and beating heart, Trembling limbs, convulsed and chill, Conscious of some mighty ill; Yet unable to recall Sights that did my sense appal; Sounds that thrill'd my sleeping ear With unutterable fear; Forms that to my sleeping eye Presented some strange phantasy-- Shadowy, spectral, and sublime, That glance upon the sons of time At moments when the mind, o'erwrought, Yields reason to mysterious thought, And night and solitude in vain Bind the free spirit in their chain.

Such the vision wild that press'd On tortur'd brain and heaving chest; But sight and sound alike are gone, I woke, and found myself alone; With choking sob and stifled scream To bless my G.o.d 'twas but a dream!

To smooth my damp and stiffen'd hair, And murmur out the Saviour's prayer-- The first to grateful memory brought, The first a gentle mother taught, When, bending o'er her children's bed, She bade good angels guard my head; Then paused, with tearful eyes, and smiled On the calm slumbers of her child-- As G.o.d himself had heard her prayer, And holy angels wors.h.i.+pped there.

CHAPTER XVII

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 much 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 a 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 quant.i.ty of food we had prepared, I thought it could never 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!" to encourage 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 trousers, 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 fis.h.i.+ng as the sole aim and object of life. These young men rendered very little a.s.sistance 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 Boss, and a host of other settlers, among whom I recognised Moodie's old acquaintance, Dan Simpson, with his lank red hair and 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 consciousness 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 his 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.

"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 pet.i.tion. 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 for 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 sc.r.a.pe with any of your real lies."