Canadian Crusoes by Catherine Parr Traill

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Despise not then, you, my refined young readers, the rude expedients
adopted by these simple children of the forest, who knew nothing of the
luxuries that were to be met with in the houses of the great and the rich.
The fragrant carpet of cedar or hemlock-spruce sprigs strewn lightly over
the earthen floor, was to them a luxury as great as if it had been taken
from the looms of Persia or Turkey, so happy and contented were they in
their ignorance. Their bed of freshly gathered grass and leaves, raised
from the earth by a heap of branches carefully arranged, was to them as
pleasant as beds of down, and the rude hut of bark and poles, as curtains
of silk or damask.

Having collected as much of these materials as she deemed sufficient for
the purpose, Catharine next gathered up dry oak branches, plenty of which
lay scattered here and there, to make a watch-fire for the night, and this
done, weary and warm, she sat down on a little hillock, beneath the cooling
shade of a grove of young aspens, that grew near the hut; pleased with the
dancing of the leaves, which fluttered above her head, and fanned her warm
cheek with their incessant motion, she thought, like her cousin Louise,
that the aspen was the merriest tree in the forest, for it was always
dancing, dancing, dancing, even when all the rest were still.

She watched the gathering of the distant thunder-clouds, which cast a
deeper, more sombre shade upon the pines that girded the northern shores of
the lake as with an ebon frame. Insensibly her thoughts wandered far away
from the lonely spot whereon she sat, to the stoup [Footnote: The Dutch
word for verandah, which is still in common use among the Canadians.] in
front of her father's house, and in memory's eye she beheld it all exactly
as she had left it. There stood the big spinning wheel, just as she had set
it aside; the hanks of dyed yarn suspended from the rafters, the basket
filled with the carded wool ready for her work. She saw in fancy her
father, with his fine athletic upright figure, his sunburnt cheeks and
clustering sable hair, his clear energetic hazel eye ever beaming upon her,
his favourite child, with looks of love and kindness as she moved to and
fro at her wheel. [Footnote: Such is the method of working at the large
wool wheel, unknown or obsolete in England.] There, too, was her mother,
with her light step and sweet cheerful voice, singing as she pursued her
daily avocations; and Donald and Kenneth driving up the cows to be milked,
or chopping firewood. And as these images, like the figures of the magic
lantern, passed in all their living colours before her mental vision, her
head drooped heavier and lower till it sunk upon her arm, and then she
started, looked round, and slept again, her face deeply buried in her young
bosom; and long and peacefully the young girl slumbered.

A sound of hurrying feet approaches, a wild cry is heard and panting
breath, and the sleeper with a startling scream sprang to her feet: she
dreamed that she was struggling in the fangs of a wolf--its grisly paws
were clasped about her throat; the feeling was agony and suffocation--her
languid eyes open. Can it be?--what is it that she sees? Yes, it is Wolfe;
not the fierce creature of her dreams by night and her fears by day, but
her father's own brave devoted dog. What joy, what hope rushed to her
heart! She threw herself upon the shaggy neck of the faithful beast, and
wept from the fulness of heart.

"Yes," she joyfully cried, "I knew that I should see him again. My own
dear, dear, loving father! Father! father! dear, dear father, here are your
children. Come, come quickly!" and she hurried to the head of the valley,
raising her voice, that the beloved parent, who she now confidently
believed was approaching, might be guided to the spot by the well-known
sound of her voice.

Poor, child! the echoes of thy eager voice, prolonged by every projecting
headland of the valley, replied in mocking tones, "Come quickly!"

Bewildered she paused, listened breathlessly and again she called,
"Father, come quickly, come!" and again the deceitful sounds were repeated,
"Quickly come!"

The faithful dog, who had succeeded in tracking the steps of his lost
mistress, raised his head and erected his ears, as she called on her
father's name; but he gave no joyful bark of recognition as he was wont to
do when he heard his master's step approaching. Still Catharine could not
but think that Wolfe had only hurried on before, and that her father must
be very near.

The sound of her voice had been heard by her brother and cousin, who,
fearing some evil beast had made its way to the wigwam, hastily wound up
their line, and left the fishing-ground to hurry to her assistance. They
could hardly believe their eyes when they saw Wolfe, faithful old Wolfe,
their earliest friend and playfellow, named by their father after the
gallant hero of Quebec. And they too, like Catharine, thought that their
friends were not far distant, and joyfully they climbed the hills and
shouted aloud, and Wolfe was coaxed and caressed, and besought to follow
them to point out the way they should take: but all their entreaties were
in vain; worn out with fatigue and long fasting, the poor old dog refused
to quit the embers of the fire, before which he stretched himself, and
the boys now noticed his gaunt frame and wasted flesh--he looked almost
starved. The fact now became evident that he was in a state of great
exhaustion. Catharine thought he eyed the spring with wishful looks, and
she soon supplied him with water in the bark dish, to this great relief.

Wolfe had been out for several days with his master, who would repeat, in
tones of sad earnestness, to the faithful creature, "Lost, lost, lost!" It
was his custom to do so when the cattle strayed, and Wolfe would travel in
all directions till he found them, nor ceased his search till he discovered
the objects he was ordered to bring home. The last night of the father's
wanderings, when, sick and hopeless, he came back to his melancholy
home, as he sat sleeplessly rocking himself to and fro, he involuntarily
exclaimed, wringing his hands, "Lost, lost, lost!" Wolfe heard what to him
was an imperative command; he rose, and stood at the door, and whined;
mechanically his master rose, lifted the latch, and again exclaimed in
passionate tones those magic words, that sent the faithful messenger forth
into the dark forest path. Once on the trail he never left it, but with ah
instinct incomprehensible as it was powerful, he continued to track the
woods, lingering long on spots where the wanderers had left any signs of
their sojourn; he had for some time been baffled at the Beaver Meadow, and
again where they had crossed Cold Creek, but had regained the scent and
traced them to the valley of the "big stone," and then with the sagacity of
the bloodhound and the affection of the terrier he had, at last, discovered
the objects of his unwearied, though often baffled search.

What a state of excitement did the unexpected arrival of old Wolfe create!
How many questions were put to the poor beast, as he lay with his head
pillowed on the knees of his loving mistress! Catharine knew it was
foolish, but she could not help talking to the dumb animal, as if he had
been conversant with her own language. Ah, old Wolfe, if your homesick
nurse could but have interpreted those expressive looks, those eloquent
waggings of your bushy tail, as it flapped upon the grass, or waved from
side to side; those gentle lickings of the hand, and mute sorrowful
glances, as though he would have said, "Dear mistress, I know all your
troubles. I know all you say, but I cannot answer you!" There is something
touching in the silent sympathy of the dog, to which only the hard-hearted
and depraved can be quite insensible. I remember once hearing of a felon,
who had shown the greatest obstinacy and callous indifference to the
appeals of his relations, and the clergyman that attended him in prison,
whose heart was softened by the sight of a little dog, that had been his
companion in his days of comparative innocence, forcing its way through the
crowd, till it gained the foot of the gallows; its mute look of anguish
and affection unlocked the fount of human feeling, and the condemned man
wept--perhaps the first tears he had shed since childhood's happy days.

The night closed in with a tempest of almost tropical violence. The inky
darkness of the sky was relieved, at intervals, by sheets of lurid flame,
which revealed, by its intense brightness, every object far off or near.
The distant lake, just seen amid the screen of leaves through the gorge of
the valley, gleamed like a sea of molten sulphur; the deep narrow defile,
shut in by the steep and wooded hills, looked deeper, more wild and gloomy,
when revealed by that vivid glare of light.

There was no stir among the trees, the heavy rounded masses of foliage
remained unmoved; the very aspen, that tremulous sensitive tree, scarcely
stirred; it seemed as if the very pulses of nature were at rest. The solemn
murmur that preceded the thunder-peal might have been likened to the
moaning of the dying. The children felt the loneliness of the spot. Seated
at the entrance of their sylvan hut, in front of which their evening fire
burned brightly, they looked out upon the storm in silence and in
awe. Screened by the sheltering shrubs that grew near them, they felt
comparatively safe from the dangers of the storm, which now burst in
terrific violence above the valley. Cloud answered to cloud, and the echoes
of the hills prolonged the sound, while shattered trunks and brittle
branches filled the air, and shrieked and groaned in that wild war of
elements.

Between the pauses of the tempest the long howl of the wolves, from their
covert in some distant cedar swamp at the edge of the lake, might be heard
from time to time,--a sound that always thrilled their hearts with fear. To
the mighty thunder-peal that burst above their heads they listened with awe
and wonder. It seemed, indeed, to them as if it were the voice of Him who
"sendeth out his voice, yea, and that a mighty voice." And they bowed and
adored his majesty; but they shrank with curdled blood from the cry of the
_felon wolf._

And now the storm was at its climax, and the hail and rain came down in a
whitening flood upon that ocean of forest leaves; the old grey branches
were lifted up and down, and the stout trunks rent, for they would not bow
down before the fury of the whirlwind, and were scattered all abroad like
chaff before the wind.

The children thought not of danger for themselves, but they feared for the
safety of their fathers, whom they believed to be not far off from them.
And often 'mid the raging of the elements, they fancied they could
distinguish familiar voices calling upon their names. "If our father had
not been near, Wolfe would not have come hither."

"Ah, if our father should have perished in this fearful storm," said
Catharine, weeping, "or have been starved to death while seeking for us!"
and Catharine covered her face and wept more bitterly.

But Louis would not listen to such melancholy forebodings. Their fathers
were both brave hardy men, accustomed to every sort of danger and
privation; they were able to take care of themselves. Yes, he was sure they
were not far off; it was this unlucky storm coming on that had prevented
them from meeting.

"To-morrow, ma chère, will be a glorious day after the storm; it will be a
joyful one too, we shall go out with Wolfe, and he will find his master,
and then--oh, yes! I dare say my dear father will be with yours. They will
have taken good heed to the track, and we shall soon see our dear mothers
and chère petite Louise."

The storm lasted till past midnight, when it gradually subsided, and the
poor wanderers glad to see the murky clouds roll off, and the stars peep
forth among their broken masses; but they were reduced to a pitiful state,
the hurricane having beaten down their little hut, and their garments were
drenched with rain. However, the boys made a good fire with some bark
and boughs they had in store; there were a few sparks in their back log
unextinguished, and this they gladly fanned up into a blaze, with which
they dried their wet clothes, and warmed themselves. The air was now cool
almost to chilliness, and for some days the weather remained unsettled,
and the sky overcast with clouds, while the lake presented a leaden hue,
crested with white mimic waves.

They soon set to work to make another hut, and found close to the head of
the ravine a great pine uprooted, affording them large pieces of bark,
which proved very serviceable in thatching the sides of the hut. The boys
employed themselves in this work, while Catharine cooked the fish they
had caught the night before, with a share of which old Wolfe seemed to be
mightily well pleased. After they had breakfasted, they all went up towards
the high table-land above the ravine, with Wolfe, to look round in hope of
getting sight of their friends from Cold Springs, but though they kept an
anxious look out in every direction, they returned, towards evening,
tired and hopeless. Hector had killed a red squirrel, and a partridge which
Wolfe "treed,"--that is, stood barking at the foot of the tree in which it
had perched,--and the supply of meat was a seasonable change. They also
noticed, and marked, with the axe, several trees where there were bees,
intending to come in the cold weather, and cut them down. Louis's father
was a great and successful bee-hunter; and Louis rather prided himself on
having learned something of his father's skill in that line. Here, where
flowers were so abundant and water plentiful, the wild bees seemed to be
abundant also; besides, the open space between the trees, admitting the
warm sunbeam freely, was favourable both for the bees and the flowers on
which they fed, and Louis talked joyfully of the fine stores of honey they
should collect in the fell. He had taught little Fanchon, a small French
spaniel of his father's, to find out the trees where the bees hived, and
also the nests of the ground-bees, and she would bark at the foot of the
tree, or scratch with her feet on the ground, as the other dogs barked at
the squirrels or the woodchucks; but Fanchon was far away, and Wolfe was
old, and would learn no new tricks, so Louis knew he had nothing but his
own observation and the axe to depend upon for procuring honey.

The boys had been unsuccessful for some days past in fishing; neither
perch nor sunfish, pink roach nor mud-pouts [Footnote: All these fish are
indigenous to the fresh waters of Canada.] were to be caught. However, they
found water-mussels by groping in the sand, and cray-fish among the
gravel at the edge of the water only; the last pinched their fingers very
spitefully. The mussels were not very palateable, for want of salt; but
hungry folks must not be dainty, and Louis declared them very good when
well roasted, covered up with hot embers. "The fish-hawks," said he, "set
us a good example, for they eat them, and so do the eagles and herons. I
watched one the other day with a mussel in his bill; he flew to a high
tree, let his prey fall, and immediately darted down to secure it; but I
drove him off, and, to my great amusement, perceived the wise fellow had
just let it fall on a stone, which had cracked the shell for him just in
the right place. I often see shells lying at the foot of trees, far up
the hills, where these birds must have left them. There is one large
thick-shelled mussel, that I have found several times with a round hole
drilled through the shell, just as if it had been done with a small auger,
doubtless the work of some bird with a strong beak."

"Do you remember," said Catharine, "the fine pink mussel-shell that Hec.
picked up in the little corn-field last year; it had a hole in one of
the shells too; [Footnote: This ingenious mode of cracking the shells of
mussels is common to many birds. The crow (_Corvus corone_) has been long
known by American naturalists to break the thick shells of the river
mussels, by letting them fall from a height on to rocks and stones.] and
when my uncle saw it, he said it must have been dropped by some large bird,
a fish-hawk possibly, or a heron, and brought from the great lake, as it
had been taken out of some deep water, the mussels in our creeks being
quite thin-shelled and white."

"Do you remember what a quantity of large fish bones we found in the
eagle's nest on the top of our hill, Louis?" said Hector.

"I do; those fish must have been larger than our perch and sun-fish; they
were brought from this very lake, I dare say."

"If we had a good canoe now, or a boat, and a strong hook and line, we
might become great fishermen."

"Louis," said Catharine, "is always thinking about canoes, and boats, and
skiffs; he ought to have been a sailor."

Louis was confident that if they had a canoe he could soon learn to
manage her; he was an excellent sailor already in theory. Louis never saw
difficulties; he was always hopeful, and had a very good opinion of his own
cleverness; he was quicker in most things, his ideas flowed faster than
Hector's, but Hector was more prudent, and possessed one valuable quality--
steady perseverance; he was slow in adopting an opinion, but when once
convinced, he pushed on steadily till he mastered the subject or overcame
the obstacle.

"Catharine," said Louis, one day, "the huckleberries age now very
plentiful, and I think it would be a wise thing to gather a good store of
them, and dry them for the winter. See, ma chère, wherever we turn our
eyes, or place our feet, they are to be found; the hill sides are purple
with them. We may, for aught we know, be obliged to pass the rest of our
lives here; it will be well to prepare for the winter when no berries are
to be found."

"It will be well, mon ami, but we must not dry them in the sun; for let me
tell you, Mr. Louis, that they will be quite tasteless--mere dry husks."

"Why so, ma belle?"

"I do not know the reason, but I only know the fact, for when our mothers
dried the currants and raspberries in the sun, such was the case, but when
they dried them on the oven floor, or on the hearth, they were quite nice."

"Well, Cath., I think I know of a flat thin stone that will make a good
hearthstone, and we can get sheets of birch bark and sew into flat bags, to
keep the dried fruit in."

They now turned all their attention to drying huckleberries (or
whortleberries). [Footnote: From the abundance of this fruit, the Indians
have given the name of Whortleberry Plain to the lands on the south shore.
During the month of July and the early part of August, large parties come
to the Rice Lake Plains to gather huckleberries, which they preserve by
drying, for winter use. These berries make a delicious tart or pudding,
mixed with bilberries and red-currants, requiring little sugar.] Catharine
and Louis (who fancied nothing could be contrived without his help)
attended to the preparing and making of the bags of birch bark; but Hector
was soon tired of girl's work, as he termed it, and, after gathering some
berries, would wander away over the hills in search of game, and to explore
the neighbouring hills and valleys, and sometimes it was sunset before he
made his appearance. Hector had made an excellent strong-bow, like the
Indian bow, out of a tough piece of hickory wood, which he found in one of
his rambles, and he made arrows with wood that he seasoned in the smoke,
sharpening the heads with great care with his knife, and hardening them by
exposure to strong heat, at a certain distance from the fire. The entrails
of the woodchucks, stretched, and scraped and dried, and rendered pliable
by rubbing and drawing through the hands, answered for a bowstring; but
afterwards, when they got the sinews and hide of the deer, they used them,
properly dressed for the purpose.

Hector also made a cross-bow, which he used with great effect, being a
true and steady marksman. Louis and he would often amuse themselves with
shooting at a mark, which they would chip on the bark of a tree; even
Catharine was a tolerable archeress with the longbow, and the hut was now
seldom without game of one kind or other. Hector seldom returned from his
rambles without partridges, quails, or young pigeons, which are plentiful
at this season of the year; many of the old ones that pass over in their
migratory flight in the spring, stay to breed, or return thither for the
acorns and berries that are to be found in great abundance. Squirrels, too,
are very plentiful at this season. Hector and Louis remarked that the red
and black squirrels never were to be found very near each other. It is a
common belief, that the red squirrels make common cause with the grey, and
beat the larger enemy off the ground. The black squirrel, for a succession
of years, was very rarely to be met with on the Plains, while there were
plenty of the red and grey in the "oak openings." [Footnote: Within the
last three years, however, the black squirrels have been very numerous, and
the red are less frequently to be seen. The flesh of the black squirrel is
tender, white, and delicate, like that of a young rabbit.] Deer, at the
time our young Crusoes were living on the Rice Lake Plains, were plentiful,
and, of course, so were those beasts that prey upon them,--wolves, bears,
and wolverines, besides the Canadian lynx, or catamount, as it is here
commonly called, a species of wild-cat or panther. These wild animals are
now no longer to be seen; it is a rare thing to hear of bears or wolves,
and the wolverine and lynx are known only as matters of history in this
part of the country; these animals disappear as civilization advances,
while some others increase and follow man, especially many species of
birds, which seem to pick up the crumbs that fall from the rich man's
board, and multiply about his dwelling; some adopt new habits and modes of
building and feeding, according to the alteration and improvement in their
circumstances.

While our young people seldom wanted for meat, they felt the privation of
the tread to which they had teen accustomed very sensibly. One day, while
Hector and Louis were busily engaged with their assistant, Wolfe, in
unearthing a woodchuck, that had taken refuge in his burrow, on one of the
gravelly hills above the lake, Catharine amused herself by looking
for flowers; she had filled her lap with ripe May-apples, [Footnote:
_Podophyllum peltatum_-May-apple, or Mandrake. The fruit of the May-apple,
in rich moist soil, will attain to the size of the magnum bonum, or
egg-plum, which it resembles in colour and shape. It makes a delicious
preserve, if seasoned with cloves or ginger; when eaten uncooked, the outer
rind, which is thick and fleshy, and has a rank taste, should be thrown
aside; the fine acid pulp in which the seeds are imbedded alone should be
eaten. The root of the Podophyllum is used as a cathartic by the Indians.
The root of this plant is reticulated, and when a large body of them are
uncovered, they present a singular appearance, interlacing each other in
large meshes, like an extensive net-work; these roots are white, as thick
as a man's little finger, and fragrant, and spread horizontally along
the surface. The blossom is like a small white rose.] but finding them
cumbersome in climbing the steep wooded hills, she deposited them at the
foot of a tree near the boys, and pursued her search; and it was not long
before she perceived some pretty grassy-looking plants, with heads of
bright lilac flowers, and on plucking some pulled up the root also. The
root was about the size and shape of a large crocus, and, on biting it, she
found it far from disagreeable, sweet, and slightly astringent; it seemed
to be a favourite root with the wood-chucks, for she noticed that it grew
about their burrows on dry gravelly soil, and many of the stems were
bitten, and the roots eaten, a warrant in full of wholesomeness. Therefore,
carrying home a parcel of the largest of the roots, she roasted them in the
embers, and they proved almost as good as chestnuts, and more satisfying
than the acorns of the white oak, which they had often roasted in the fire,
when they were out working on the fallow, at the log heaps. Hector and
Louis ate heartily of the roots, and commended Catharine for the discovery.
Not many days afterwards, Louis accidentally found a much larger and more
valuable root, near the lake shore. He saw a fine climbing shrub, with
close bunches of dark reddish-purple pea-shaped flowers, which scented the
air with a delicious perfume. The plant climbed to a great height over the
young trees, with a profusion of dark green leaves and tendrils. Pleased
with the bowery appearance of the plant, he tried to pull one up, that he
might show it to his cousin, when the root displayed a number of large
tubers, as big as good-sized potatoes, regular oval-shaped; the inside was
quite white, tasting somewhat like a potato, only pleasanter, when in its
raw state, than an uncooked potato. Louis gathered his pockets full, and
hastened home with his prize, and, on being roasted, these new roots were
decided to be little inferior to potatoes, at all events, they were a
valuable addition to their slender stores, and they procured as many as
they could find, carefully storing them in a hole, which they dug for that
purpose in a corner of their hut. [Footnote: This plant appears to me to
be a species of the _Psoralea esculenta_, or Indian bread-root, which it
resembles in description, excepting that the root of the above is tuberous
oval, and connected by long filaments. The largest tubers are farthest from
the stem of the plant.] Hector suggested that these roots would be far
better late in the fall, or early in the spring, than during the time that
the plant was in bloom, for he knew from observation and experience that at
the flowering season the greater part of the nourishment derived from the
soil goes to perfect the flower and the seeds. Upon scraping the cut tuber,
there was a white floury powder produced resembling the starchy substance
of the potato.

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