Life in the Backwoods by Susanna Moodie
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Susanna Moodie >> Life in the Backwoods
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16 Notify Juliet Sutherland, Charles Bidwell
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS,
A SEQUEL TO
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH.
BY SUSANNA MOODIE,
Author of "LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS," "FLORA LYNDSAY,"
"GEOFFREY MONCTON," etc., etc.
I sketch from Nature, and the picture's true;
Whate'er the subject, whether grave or gay,
Painful experience in a distant land
Made it mine own.
NEW YORK:
JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY,
14 AND 16 VESEY STREET.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.--A Journey to the Woods--Corduroy Roads--No Ghosts in Canada
CHAPTER II.--The Wilderness and our Indian Friends--The House on Fire--No
Papoose; the Mother all alone
CHAPTER III.--Running the Fallow--A Wall of Fire--"But God can save us
yet."
CHAPTER IV.--Our Logging Bee--"Och! my ould granny taught me."--Signal
Mercies
CHAPTER V.--A Trip to Stony Lake--A Feast in an Outhouse--The Squatter's
Log Hut
CHAPTER VI.--Disappointed Hopes--Milk, Bread and Potatoes our only Fare--
The Deer Hunt
CHAPTER VII.--The Little Stumpy Man--Hiding from the Sheriff--An
ill-natured volunteer
CHAPTER VIII.--The Fire--"Oh, dear Mamma, do save Papa's Flute"--"No time
to be clane!"
CHAPTER IX.--The Outbreak--Moodie joins the Volunteers--"Scribblin' and
Scrabblin' when you should be in bed"
CHAPTER X.--The Whirlwind--Two Miles of Trees Levelled to the Ground--Sick
Children
CHAPTER XI.--The Walk to Dummer--Honest, Faithful Jenny--A sad History--
Tried and Found most Faithful
CHAPTER XII.--A Change in our Prospects--In a Canoe--Nearing the Rapids--
Dandelion Coffee
CHAPTER XIII.--The Magic Spell--"The Sleighs are Come!"--Leaving the
Bush--End of Life in the Backwoods
LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS
A SEQUEL TO
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS.
'Tis well for us poor denizens of earth
That God conceals the future from our gaze;
Or Hope, the blessed watcher on Life's tower,
Would fold her wings, and on the dreary waste
Close the bright eye that through the murky clouds
Of blank Despair still sees the glorious sun.
It was a bright, frosty morning when I bade adieu to the farm, the
birthplace of my little Agnes, who, nestled beneath my cloak, was sweetly
sleeping on my knee, unconscious of the long journey before us into the
wilderness. The sun had not as yet risen. Anxious to get to our place of
destination before dark, we started as early as we could. Our own fine
team had been sold the day before for forty pounds; and one of our
neighbours, a Mr. D____, was to convey us and our household goods to Douro
for the sum of twenty dollars. During the week he had made several
journeys, with furniture and stores; and all that now remained was to be
conveyed to the woods in two large lumber-sleighs, one driven by himself,
the other by a younger brother.
It was not without regret that I left Melsetter, for so my husband had
called the place, after his father's estate in Orkney. It was a beautiful,
picturesque spot; and, in spite of the evil neighbourhood, I had learned
to love it; indeed, it was much against my wish that it was sold. I had a
great dislike to removing, which involves a necessary loss, and is apt to
give to the emigrant roving and unsettled habits. But all regrets were now
useless; and happily unconscious of the life of toil and anxiety that
awaited us in those dreadful woods, I tried my best to be cheerful, and to
regard the future with a hopeful eye.
Our driver was a shrewd, clever man, for his opportunities. He took charge
of the living cargo, which consisted of my husband, our maid-servant, the
two little children, and myself--besides a large hamper, full of poultry--
a dog, and a cat. The lordly sultan of the imprisoned seraglio thought fit
to conduct himself in a very eccentric manner, for at every barnyard we
happened to pass, he clapped his wings, and crowed so long and loud that
it afforded great amusement to the whole party, and doubtless was very
edifying to the poor hens, who lay huddled together as mute as mice.
"That 'ere rooster thinks he's on the top of the heap," said our driver,
laughing. "I guess he's not used to travelling in a close conveyance.
Listen! How all the crowers in the neighbourhood give him back a note of
defiance! But he knows that he's safe enough at the bottom of the basket."
The day was so bright for the time of year (the first week in February),
that we suffered no inconvenience from the cold. Little Katie was
enchanted with the jingling of the sleigh-bells, and, nestled among the
packages, kept singing or talking to the horses in her baby lingo.
Trifling as these little incidents were, before we had proceeded ten miles
on our long journey, they revived my drooping spirits, and I began to feel
a lively interest in the scenes through which we were passing.
The first twenty miles of the way was over a hilly and well-cleared
country; and as in winter the deep snow fills up the inequalities, and
makes all roads alike, we glided as swiftly and steadily along as if they
had been the best highways in the world. Anon, the clearings began to
diminish, and tall woods arose on either side of the path; their solemn
aspect, and the deep silence that brooded over their vast solitudes,
inspiring the mind with a strange awe. Not a breath of wind stirred the
leafless branches, whose huge shadows, reflected upon the dazzling white
covering of snow, lay so perfectly still, that it seemed as if Nature had
suspended her operations, that life and motion had ceased, and that she
was sleeping in her winding-sheet, upon the bier of death.
"I guess you will find the woods pretty lonesome," said our driver, whose
thoughts had been evidently employed on the same subject as our own. "We
were once in the woods, but emigration has stepped ahead of us, and made
our'n a cleared part of the country. When I was a boy, all this country,
for thirty miles on every side of us, was bush land. As to Peterborough,
the place was unknown; not a settler had ever passed through the great
swamp, and some of them believed that it was the end of the world."
"What swamp is that?" asked I.
"Oh, the great Cavan swamp. We are just two miles from it; and I tell you
the horses will need a good rest, and ourselves a good dinner, by the time
we are through it. Ah! Mrs. Moodie, if ever you travel that way in summer,
you will know something about corduroy roads. I was 'most jolted to death
last fall; I thought it would have been no bad notion to have insured my
teeth before I left C____. I really expected that they would have been
shook out of my head before we had done manoeuvring over the big logs."
"How will my crockery stand it in the next sleigh?" quoth I. "If the road
is such as you describe, I am afraid that I shall not bring a whole plate
to Douro."
"Oh! the snow is a great leveller--it makes all rough places smooth. But
with regard to this swamp, I have something to tell you. About ten years
ago, no one had ever seen the other side of it; and if pigs or cattle
strayed away into it, they fell a prey to the wolves and bears, and were
seldom recovered.
"An old Scotch emigrant, who had located himself on this side of it, so
often lost his beasts that he determined during the summer season to try
and explore the place, and see if there were any end to it. So he takes an
axe on his shoulder, and a bag of provisions for the week, not forgetting
a flask of whiskey, and off he starts all alone, and tells his wife that
if he never returned, she and little Jock must try and carry on the farm
without him; but he was determined to see the end of the swamp, even if it
led to the other world. He fell upon a fresh cattle-track, which he
followed all that day; and towards night he found himself in the heart of
a tangled wilderness of bushes, and himself half eaten up with mosquitoes
and black-flies. He was more than tempted to give in, and return home by
the first glimpse of light.
"The Scotch are a tough people; they are not easily daunted--a few
difficulties only seem to make them more eager to get on; and he felt
ashamed the next moment, as he told me, of giving up. So he finds out a
large, thick cedar-tree for his bed, climbs up, and coiling himself among
the branches like a bear, he was soon fast asleep.
"The next morning, by daylight, he continued his journey, not forgetting
to blaze with his axe the trees to the right and left as he went along.
The ground was so spongy and wet that at every step he plunged up to his
knees in water, but he seemed no nearer the end of the swamp than he had
been the day before. He saw several deer, a raccoon, and a groundhog,
during his walk, but was unmolested by bears or wolves. Having passed
through several creeks, and killed a great many snakes, he felt so weary
towards the second day that he determined to go home the next morning. But
just as he began to think his search was fruitless, he observed that the
cedars and tamaracks which had obstructed his path became less numerous,
and were succeeded by bass and soft maple. The ground, also, became less
moist, and he was soon ascending a rising slope, covered with oak and
beech, which shaded land of the very best quality. The old man was now
fully convinced that he had cleared the great swamp; and that, instead of
leading to the other world, it had conducted him to a country that would
yield the very best returns for cultivation. His favourable report led to
the formation of the road that we are about to cross, and to the
settlement of Peterborough, which is one of the most promising new
settlements in this district, and is surrounded by a splendid back
country."
We were descending a very steep hill, and encountered an ox-sleigh, which
was crawling slowly up it in a contrary direction. Three people were
seated at the bottom of the vehicle upon straw, which made a cheap
substitute for buffalo robes. Perched, as we were, upon the crown of the
height, we looked completely down into the sleigh, and during the whole
course of my life I never saw three uglier mortals collected into such a
narrow space. The man was blear-eyed, with a hare-lip, through which
protruded two dreadful yellow teeth which resembled the tusks of a boar.
The woman was long-faced, high cheek-boned, red-haired, and freckled all
over like a toad. The boy resembled his hideous mother, but with the
addition of a villainous obliquity of vision which rendered him the most
disgusting object in this singular trio.
As we passed them, our driver gave a knowing nod to my husband, directing,
at the same time, the most quizzical glance towards the strangers, as he
exclaimed, "We are in luck, sir! I think that 'ere sleigh may be called
Beauty's egg-basket!"
We made ourselves very merry at the poor people's expense, and Mr. D____,
with his odd stories and Yankeefied expressions, amused the tedium of our
progress through the great swamp, which in summer presents for several
miles one uniform bridge of rough and unequal logs, all laid loosely
across huge sleepers, so that they jumped up and down, when pressed by the
wheels, like the keys of a piano. The rough motion and jolting occasioned
by this collision is so distressing that it never fails to entail upon the
traveller sore bones and an aching head for the rest of the day. The path
is so narrow over these logs that two wagons cannot pass without great
difficulty, which is rendered more dangerous by the deep natural ditches
on either side of the bridge, formed by broad creeks that flow out of the
swamp, and often terminate in mud-holes of very ominous dimensions. The
snow, however, hid from us all the ugly features of the road, and Mr.
D____ steered us through it in perfect safety, and landed us at the door
of a little log house which crowned the steep hill on the other side of
the swamp, and which he dignified with the name of a tavern.
It was now two o'clock. We had been on the road since seven; and men,
women, and children were all ready for the good dinner that Mr. D____ had
promised us at this splendid house of entertainment, where we were
destined to stay for two hours, to refresh ourselves and rest the horses.
"Well, Mrs. J____, what have you got for our dinner?" said the driver,
after he had seen to the accommodation of his teams.
"Pritters and pork, sir. Nothing else to be had in the woods. Thank God,
we have enough of that!"
D____ shrugged up his shoulders, and looked at us.
"We've plenty of that same at home. But hunger's good sauce. Come, be
spry, widow, and see about it, for I am very hungry."
I inquired for a private room for myself and the children, but there were
no private rooms in the house. The apartment we occupied was like the
cobbler's stall in the old song, and I was obliged to attend upon them in
public.
"You have much to learn, ma'am, if you are going to the woods," said Mrs.
J____.
"To unlearn, you mean," said Mr. D____. "To tell you the truth, Mrs.
Moodie, ladies and gentlemen have no business in the woods. Eddication
spoils man or woman for that location. So, widow (turning to our hostess),
you are not tired of living alone yet?"
"No, sir; I have no wish for a second husband. I had enough of the first.
I like to have my own way--to lie down mistress, and get up master."
"You don't like to be put out of your _old_ way," returned he, with a
mischievous glance.
She coloured very red; but it might be the heat of the fire over which she
was frying the pork for our dinner.
I was very hungry, but I felt no appetite for the dish she was preparing
for us. It proved salt, hard, and unsavoury.
D____ pronounced it very bad, and the whiskey still worse, with which he
washed it down.
I asked for a cup of tea and a slice of bread. But they were out of tea,
and the hop-rising had failed, and there was no bread in the house. For
this disgusting meal we paid at the rate of a quarter of a dollar a-head.
I was glad when, the horses being again put to, we escaped from the rank
odour of the fried pork, and were once more in the fresh air.
"Well, mister; did not you grudge your money for that bad meat?" said
D____, when we were once more seated in the sleigh. "But in these parts,
the worse the fare the higher the charge."
"I would not hare cared," said I, "if I could have got a cup of tea."
"Tea! it's poor trash. I never could drink tea in my life. But I like
coffee, when 'tis boiled till it's quite black. But coffee is not good
without plenty of trimmings."
"What do you mean by trimmings?"
He laughed. "Good sugar, and sweet cream. Coffee is not worth drinking
without trimmings."
Often in after years have I recalled the coffee trimmings, when
endeavouring to drink the vile stuff which goes by the name of coffee in
the houses of entertainment in the country.
We had now passed through the narrow strip of clearing which surrounded
the tavern, and again entered upon the woods. It was near sunset, and we
were rapidly descending a steep hill, when one of the traces that held our
sleigh suddenly broke. D____ pulled up in order to repair the damage. His
brother's team was close behind, and our unexpected stand-still brought
the horses upon us before J. D____ could stop them. I received so violent
a blow from the head of one of them, just in the back of the neck, that
for a few minutes I was stunned and insensible. When I recovered, I was
supported in the arms of my husband, over whose knees I was leaning, and
D____ was rubbing my hands and temples with snow.
"There, Mr. Moodie, she's coming to. I thought she was killed. I have seen
a man before now killed by a blow from a horse's head in the like manner."
As soon as we could, we resumed our places in the sleigh; but all
enjoyment of our journey, had it been otherwise possible, was gone.
When we reached Peterborough, Moodie wished us to remain at the inn all
night, as we had still eleven miles of our journey to perform, and that
through a blazed forest-road, little travelled, and very much impeded by
fallen trees and other obstacles; but D____ was anxious to get back as
soon as possible to his own home, and he urged us very pathetically to
proceed.
The moon arose during our stay at the inn, and gleamed upon the straggling
frame houses which then formed the now populous and thriving town of
Peterborough. We crossed the wild, rushing, beautiful Otonabee river by a
rude bridge, and soon found ourselves journeying over the plains or level
heights beyond the village, which were thinly wooded with picturesque
groups of oak and pine, and very much resembled a gentleman's park at
home. Far below, to our right (for we were upon the Smith-town side) we
heard the rushing of the river, whose rapid waters never receive curb from
the iron chain of winter. Even while the rocky banks are coated with ice,
and the frost-king suspends from every twig and branch the most beautiful
and fantastic crystals, the black waters rush foaming along, a thick steam
rising constantly above the rapids, as from a boiling pot. The shores
vibrate and tremble beneath the force of the impetuous flood, as it whirls
round cedar-crowned islands and opposing rocks, and hurries on to pour its
tribute into the Rice Lake, to swell the calm, majestic grandeur of the
Trent, till its waters are lost in the beautiful bay of Quintι, and
finally merged in the blue ocean of Ontario.
The most renowned of our English rivers dwindle into little muddy rills
when compared with the sublimity of the Canadian waters. No language
can adequately express the solemn grandeur of her lake and river scenery;
the glorious islands that float, like visions from fairy land, upon the
bosom of these azure mirrors of her cloudless skies. No dreary breadth
of marshes, covered with flags, hide from our gaze the expanse of
heaven-tinted waters; no foul mud-banks spread their unwholesome
exhalations around. The rocky shores are crowned with the cedar, the
birch, the alder, and soft maple, that dip their long tresses in the pure
stream; from every crevice in the limestone the harebell and Canadian rose
wave their graceful blossoms.
The fiercest droughts of summer may diminish the volume and power of these
romantic streams, but it never leaves their rocky channels bare, nor
checks the mournful music of their dancing waves. Through the openings in
the forest, we now and then caught the silver gleam of the river tumbling
on in moonlight splendour, while the hoarse chiding of the wind in the
lofty pines above us gave a fitting response to the melancholy cadence of
the waters.
The children had fallen asleep. A deep silence pervaded the party. Night
was above us with her mysterious stars. The ancient forest stretched
around us on every side, and a foreboding sadness sunk upon my heart.
Memory was busy with the events of many years. I retraced step by step the
pilgrimage of my past life, until arriving at that passage in its sombre
history, I gazed through tears upon the singularly savage scene around me,
and secretly marvelled, "What brought me here??"
"Providence," was the answer which the soul gave. "Not for your own
welfare, perhaps, but for the welfare of your children, the unerring hand
of the great Father has led you here. You form a connecting link in the
destinies of many. It is impossible for any human creature to live for
himself alone. It may be your lot to suffer, but others will reap a
benefit from your trials. Look up with confidence to Heaven, and the sun
of hope will yet shed a cheering beam through the forbidden depths of this
tangled wilderness."
The road became so bad that Mr. D____ was obliged to dismount, and lead
his horses through the more intricate passages. The animals themselves,
weary with their long journey and heavy load, proceeded at foot-fall. The
moon, too, had deserted us, and the only light we had to guide us through
the dim arches of the forest was from the snow and the stars, which now
peered down upon us through the leafless branches of the trees, with
uncommon brilliancy.
"It will be past midnight before we reach your brother's clearing," (where
we expected to spend the night,) said D____. "I wish, Mr. Moodie, we had
followed your advice, and staid at Peterborough. How fares it with you,
Mrs. Moodie, and the young ones? It is growing very cold."
We were now in the heart of a dark cedar swamp, and my mind was haunted
with visions of wolves and bears; but beyond the long, wild howl of a
solitary wolf, no other sound awoke the sepulchral silence of that dismal
looking wood.
"What a gloomy spot," said I to my husband. "In the old country,
superstition would people it with ghosts."
"Ghosts! There are no ghosts in Canada!" said Mr. D____. "The country is
too new for ghosts. No Canadian is afeard of ghosts. It is only in old
countries, like your'n, that are full of sin and wickedness, that people
believe in such nonsense. No human habitation has ever been erected in
this wood through which you are passing. Until a very few years ago, few
white persons had ever passed through it; and the Red Man would not pitch
his tent in such a place as this. Now, ghosts, as I understand the word,
are the spirits of bad men, that are not allowed by Providence to rest in
their graves, but, for a punishment, are made to haunt the spots where
their worst deeds were committed. I don't believe in all this; but,
supposing it to be true, bad men must have died here before their spirits
could haunt the place. Now, it is more than probable that no person ever
ended his days in this forest, so that it would be folly to think of
seeing his ghost."
This theory of Mr. D____'s had the merit of originality, and it is not
improbable that the utter disbelief in supernatural appearances, which is
common to most native-born Canadians, is the result of the same very
reasonable mode of arguing. The unpeopled wastes of Canada must present
the same aspect to the new settler that the world did to our first parents
after their expulsion from the garden of Eden; all the sin which could
defile the spot, or haunt it with the association of departed evil, is
concentrated in their own persons. Bad spirits cannot be supposed to
linger near a place where crime has never been committed. The belief in
ghosts, so prevalent in old countries, must first have had its foundation
in the consciousness of guilt.
After clearing this low, swampy portion of the wood, with much difficulty,
and the frequent application of the axe, to cut away the fallen timber
that impeded our progress, our ears were assailed by a low, roaring,
rushing sound, as of the falling of waters.
"That is Herriot's Falls," said our guide. "We are within two miles of our
destination."
Oh, welcome sound! But those two miles appeared more lengthy than the
whole journey. Thick clouds, that threatened a snow-storm, had blotted out
the stars, and we continued to grope our way through a narrow, rocky path,
upon the edge of the river, in almost total darkness. I now felt the
chillness of the midnight hour, and the fatigue of the long journey, with
double force, and envied the servant and children, who had been sleeping
ever since we left Peterborough. We now descended the steep bank, and
prepared to cross the rapids.
Dark as it was, I looked with a feeling of dread upon the foaming waters
as they tumbled over their bed of rocks, their white crests flashing,
life-like, amid the darkness of the night.
"This is an ugly bridge over such a dangerous place," said D____, as he
stood up in the sleigh and urged his tired team across the miserable,
insecure log-bridge, where darkness and death raged below, and one false
step of his jaded horses would have plunged us into both. I must confess I
drew a freer breath when the bridge was crossed, and D____ congratulated
us on our safe arrival in Douro.
We now continued our journey along the left bank of the river, but when in
sight of Mr. S____'s clearing, a large pine-tree, which had newly fallen
across the narrow path, brought the teams to a stand-still. The mighty
trunk which had lately formed one of the stately pillars in the sylvan
temple of Nature, was of too large dimensions to chop in two with axes;
and after half-an-hour's labour, which to me, poor, cold, weary wight!
seemed an age, the males of the party abandoned the task in despair. To go
round it was impossible; its roots were concealed in an impenetrable wall
of cedar-jungle on the right-hand side of the road, and its huge branches
hung over the precipitous bank of the river.
"We must try and make the horses jump over it," said D____. "We may get an
upset, but there is no help for it; we must either make the experiment, or
stay here all night, and I am too cold and hungry for that--so here goes."
He urged his horses to leap the log; restraining their ardour for a moment
as the sleigh rested on the top of the formidable barrier, but so nicely
balanced, that the difference of a straw would almost have overturned the
heavily-laden vehicle and its helpless inmates. We, however, cleared it in
safety. He now stopped, and gave directions to his brother to follow the
same plan that he had adopted; but whether the young man had less
coolness, or the horses in his team were more difficult to manage, I
cannot tell: the sleigh, as it hung poised upon the top of the log, was
overturned with a loud crash, and all my household goods and chattels were
scattered over the road. Alas, for my crockery and stone china! Scarcely
one article remained unbroken.
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