Roughing It in the Bush Part 5

The transition was like a dream. The change from the close, rank s.h.i.+p, to large, airy, well-furnished rooms and clean attendants, was a luxury we should have enjoyed had not the dread of cholera involved all things around us in gloom and apprehension. No one spoke upon the subject; and yet it was evident that it was uppermost in the thoughts of all. Several emigrants had died of the terrible disorder during the week, beneath the very roof that sheltered us, and its ravages, we were told, had extended up the country as far as Kingston; so that it was still to be the phantom of our coming journey, if we were fortunate enough to escape from its head-quarters.

At six o'clock the following morning, we took our places in the coach for Lachine, and our fears of the plague greatly diminished as we left the spires of Montreal in the distance. The journey from Montreal westward has been so well described by many gifted pens, that I shall say little about it. The banks of the St. Lawrence are picturesque and beautiful, particularly in those spots where there is a good view of the American side. The neat farm-houses looked to me, whose eyes had been so long accustomed to the watery waste, homes of beauty and happiness; and the splendid orchards, the trees at that season of the year being loaded with ripening fruit of all hues, were refres.h.i.+ng and delicious.

My partiality for the apples was regarded by a fellow-traveller with a species of horror. "Touch them not, if you value your life."

Every draught of fresh air and water inspired me with renewed health and spirits, and I disregarded the well-meant advice; the gentlemen who gave it had just recovered from the terrible disease.

He was a middle-aged man, a farmer from the Upper Province, Canadian born. He had visited Montreal on business for the first time. "Well, sir," he said, in answer to some questions put to him by my husband respecting the disease, "I can tell you what it is: a man smitten with the cholera stares death right in the face; and the torment he is suffering is so great that he would gladly die to get rid of it."

"You were fortunate, C---, to escape," said a backwood settler, who occupied the opposite seat; "many a younger man has died of it."

"Ay; but I believe I never should have taken it had it not been for some things they gave me for supper at the hotel; oysters, they called them, oysters; they were alive! I was once persuaded by a friend to eat them, and I liked them well enough at the time. But I declare to you that I felt them crawling over one another in my stomach all night. The next morning I was seized with the cholera."

"Did you swallow them whole, C---?" said the former spokesman, who seemed highly tickled by the evil doings of the oysters.

"To be sure. I tell you, the creatures are alive. You put them on your tongue, and I'll be bound you'll be glad to let them slip down as fast as you can."

"No wonder you had the cholera," said the backwoodsman, "you deserved it for your barbarity. If I had a good plate of oysters here, I'd teach you the way to eat them."

Our journey during the first day was performed partly by coach, partly by steam. It was nine o'clock in the evening when we landed at Cornwell, and took coach for Prescott. The country through which we pa.s.sed appeared beautiful in the clear light of the moon; but the air was cold, and slightly sharpened by frost. This seemed strange to me in the early part of September, but it is very common in Canada. Nine pa.s.sengers were closely packed into our narrow vehicle, but the sides being of canvas, and the open s.p.a.ce allowed for windows unglazed, I s.h.i.+vered with cold, which amounted to a state of suffering, when the day broke, and we approached the little village of Matilda. It was unanimously voted by all hands that we should stop and breakfast at a small inn by the road-side, and warm ourselves before proceeding to Prescott.

The people in the tavern were not stirring, and it was some time before an old white-headed man unclosed the door, and showed us into a room, redolent with fumes of tobacco, and darkened by paper blinds. I asked him if he would allow me to take my infant into a room with a fire.

"I guess it was a pretty considerable cold night for the like of her," said he. "Come, I'll show you to the kitchen; there's always a fire there." I cheerfully followed, accompanied by our servant.

Our entrance was unexpected, and by no means agreeable to the persons we found there. A half-clothed, red-haired Irish servant was upon her knees, kindling up the fire; and a long, thin woman, with a sharp face, and an eye like a black snake, was just emerging from a bed in the corner. We soon discovered this apparition to be the mistress of the house.

"The people can't come in here!" she screamed in a shrill voice, darting daggers at the poor old man.

"Sure there's a baby, and the two women critters are perished with cold," pleaded the good old man.

"What's that to me? They have no business in my kitchen."

"Now, Almira, do hold on. It's the coach has stopped to breakfast with us; and you know we don't often get the chance."

All this time the fair Almira was dressing as fast as she could, and eyeing her unwelcome female guests, as we stood s.h.i.+vering over the fire.

"Breakfast!" she muttered, "what can we give them to eat? They pa.s.s our door a thousand times without any one alighting; and now, when we are out of everything, they must stop and order breakfast at such an unreasonable hour. How many are there of you?" turning fiercely to me.

"Nine," I answered, laconically, continuing to chafe the cold hands and feet of the child.

"Nine! That bit of beef will be nothing, cut into steaks for nine.

What's to be done, Joe?" (to the old man.)

"Eggs and ham, summat of that dried venison, and pumpkin pie,"

responded the aide-de-camp, thoughtfully. "I don't know of any other fixings."

"Bestir yourself, then, and lay out the table, for the coach can't stay long," cried the virago, seizing a frying-pan from the wall, and preparing it for the reception of eggs and ham. "I must have the fire to myself. People can't come crowding here, when I have to fix breakfast for nine; particularly when there is a good room elsewhere provided for their accommodation." I took the hint, and retreated to the parlour, where I found the rest of the pa.s.sengers walking to and fro, and impatiently awaiting the advent of breakfast.

To do Almira justice, she prepared from her scanty materials a very substantial breakfast in an incredibly short time, for which she charged us a quarter of a dollar per head.

At Prescott we embarked on board a fine new steam-boat, William IV., crowded with Irish emigrants, proceeding to Cobourg and Toronto.

While pacing the deck, my husband was greatly struck by the appearance of a middle-aged man and his wife, who sat apart from the rest, and seemed struggling with intense grief, which, in spite of all their efforts at concealment, was strongly impressed upon their features. Some time after, I fell into conversation with the woman, from whom I learned their little history. The husband was factor to a Scotch gentleman, of large landed property, who had employed him to visit Canada, and report the capabilities of the country, prior to his investing a large sum of money in wild lands.

The expenses of their voyage had been paid, and everything up to that morning had prospered them. They had been blessed with a speedy pa.s.sage, and were greatly pleased with the country and the people; but of what avail was all this? Their only son, a fine lad of fourteen, had died that day of the cholera, and all their hopes for the future were buried in his grave. For his sake they had sought a home in this far land; and here, at the very onset of their new career, the fell disease had taken him from them for ever--here, where, in such a crowd, the poor heart-broken mother could not even indulge her natural grief!

"Ah, for a place where I might greet!" she said; "it would relieve the burning weight at my heart. But with sae many strange eyes glowering upon me, I tak' shame to mysel' to greet."

"Ah, Jeannie, my puir woman," said the husband, grasping her hand, "ye maun bear up; 'tis G.o.d's will; an sinfu' creatures like us mauna repine. But oh, madam," turning to me, "we have sair hearts the day!"

Poor bereaved creatures, how deeply I commiserated their grief--how I respected the poor father, in the stern efforts he made to conceal from indifferent spectators the anguish that weighed upon his mind! Tears are the best balm that can be applied to the anguish of the heart. Religion teaches man to bear his sorrows with becoming fort.i.tude, but tears contribute largely both to soften and to heal the wounds from whence they flow.

At Brockville we took in a party of ladies, which somewhat relieved the monotony of the cabin, and I was amused by listening to their lively prattle, and the little gossip with which they strove to wile away the tedium of the voyage. The day was too stormy to go upon deck--thunder and lightening, accompanied with torrents of rain. Amid the confusion of the elements, I tried to get a peep at the Lake of the Thousand Isles; but the driving storm blended all objects into one, and I returned wet and disappointed to my berth.

We pa.s.sed Kingston at midnight, and lost all our lady pa.s.sengers but two. The gale continued until daybreak, and noise and confusion prevailed all night, which were greatly increased by the uproarious conduct of a wild Irish emigrant, who thought fit to make his bed upon the mat before the cabin door. He sang, he shouted, and harangued his countrymen on the political state of the Emerald Isle, in a style which was loud if not eloquent. Sleep was impossible, whilst his stentorian lungs continued to pour forth torrents of unmeaning sound.

Our Dutch stewardess was highly enraged. His conduct, she said, "was perfectly ondacent." She opened the door, and bestowing upon him several kicks, bade him get away "out of that," or she would complain to the captain.

In answer to this remonstrance, he caught her by the foot, and pulled her down. Then waving the tattered remains of his straw hat in the air, he shouted with an air of triumph, "Git out wid you, you ould witch! Shure the ladies, the purty darlints, never sent you wid that ugly message to Pat, who loves them so intirely that he manes to kape watch over them through the blessed night." Then making us a ludicrous bow, he continued, "Ladies, I'm at yer sarvice; I only wish I could get a dispensation from the Pope, and I'd marry yeas all." The stewardess bolted the door, and the mad fellow kept up such a racket that we all wished him at the bottom of the Ontario.

The following day was wet and gloomy. The storm had protracted the length of our voyage for several hours, and it was midnight when we landed at Cobourg.

THERE'S REST

(Written at midnight on the river St. Lawrence)

There's rest when eve, with dewy fingers, Draws the curtains of repose Round the west, where light still lingers, And the day's last glory glows; There's rest in heaven's unclouded blue, When twinkling stars steal one by one, So softly on the gazer's view, As if they sought his glance to shun.

There's rest when o'er the silent meads The deepening shades of night advance; And sighing through their fringe of reeds, The mighty stream's clear waters glance.

There's rest when all above is bright, And gently o'er these summer isles The full moon pours her mellow light, And heaven on earth serenely smiles.

There's rest when angry storms are o'er, And fear no longer vigil keeps; When winds are heard to rave no more, And ocean's troubled spirit sleeps; There's rest when to the pebbly strand, The lapsing billows slowly glide; And, pillow'd on the golden sand, Breathes soft and low the slumbering tide.

There's rest, deep rest, at this still hour-- A holy calm,--a pause profound; Whose soothing spell and dreamy power Lulls into slumber all around.

There's rest for labour's hardy child, For Nature's tribes of earth and air,-- Whose sacred balm and influence mild, Save guilt and sorrow, all may share.

There's rest beneath the quiet sod, When life and all its sorrows cease, And in the bosom of his G.o.d The Christian finds eternal peace,-- That peace the world cannot bestow, The rest a Saviour's death-pangs bought, To bid the weary pilgrim know A rest surpa.s.sing human thought.

CHAPTER IV

TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION

"Of all odd fellows, this fellow was the oddest. I have seen many strange fish in my days, but I never met with his equal."