The "ould dhragoon," despising his wife's admonitions, gave way
freely to his feelings, and knew no bounds to his hilarity. He
laughed and joked, and sang snatches of old songs picked up in
the course of his service at home and abroad. At length Judy,
who looked on him as a "raal janius," begged him to "sing the
gintlemens the song he made when he first came to the counthry."
Of course we ardently seconded the motion, and nothing loth, the
old man, throwing himself back on his stool, and stretching out
his long neck, poured forth the following ditty, with which I
shall conclude my hasty sketch of the "ould dhragoon": -
Och! it's here I'm intirely continted,
In the wild woods of swate 'Mericay;
God's blessing on him that invinted
Big ships for our crossing the say!
Here praties grow bigger nor turnips;
And though cruel hard is our work,
In ould Ireland we'd nothing but praties,
But here we have praties and pork.
I live on the banks of a meadow,
Now see that my maning you take;
It bates all the bogs of ould Ireland -
Six months in the year it's a lake.
Bad luck to the beavers that dammed it!
I wish them all kilt for their pains;
For shure though the craters are clever,
Tis sartin they've drown'd my domains.
I've built a log hut of the timber
That grows on my charmin' estate;
And an illigant root-house erected,
Just facing the front of my gate.
And I've made me an illigant pig-sty,
Well litter'd wid straw and wid hay;
And it's there, free from noise of the chilther,
I sleep in the heat of the day.
It's there I'm intirely at aise, sir,
And enjoy all the comforts of home;
I stretch out my legs as I plase, sir,
And dhrame of the pleasures to come.
Shure, it's pleasant to hear the frogs croakin',
When the sun's going down in the sky,
And my Judy sits quietly smokin'
While the praties are boil'd till they're dhry.
Och! thin, if you love indepindence,
And have money your passage to pay,
You must quit the ould counthry intirely,
And start in the middle of May.
J.W.D.M.
CHAPTER XX
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
Stern Disappointment, in thy iron grasp
The soul lies stricken. So the timid deer,
Who feels the foul fangs of the felon wolf
Clench'd in his throat, grown desperate for life,
Turns on his foes, and battles with the fate
That hems him in - and only yields in death.
The summer of '35 was very wet; a circumstance so unusual in Canada
that I have seen no season like it during my sojourn in the country.
Our wheat crop promised to be both excellent and abundant; and the
clearing and seeding sixteen acres, one way or another, had cost us
more than fifty pounds, still, we hoped to realise something
handsome by the sale of the produce; and, as far as appearances
went, all looked fair. The rain commenced about a week before the
crop was fit for the sickle, and from that time until nearly the end
of September was a mere succession of thunder showers; days of
intense heat, succeeded by floods of rain. Our fine crop shared the
fate of all other fine crops in the country; it was totally spoiled;
the wheat grew in the sheaf, and we could scarcely save enough to
supply us with bad, sticky bread; the rest was exchanged at the
distillery for whiskey, which was the only produce which could be
obtained for it. The storekeepers would not look at it, or give
either money or goods for such a damaged article.
My husband and I had worked hard in the field; it was the first time
I had ever tried my hand at field-labour, but our ready money was
exhausted, and the steam-boat stock had not paid us one farthing; we
could not hire, and there was no help for it. I had a hard struggle
with my pride before I would consent to render the least assistance
on the farm, but reflection convinced me that I was wrong - that
Providence had placed me in a situation where I was called upon to
work - that it was not only my duty to obey that call, but to exert
myself to the utmost to assist my husband, and help to maintain my
family.
Ah, glorious poverty! thou art a hard taskmaster, but in thy
soul-ennobling school, I have received more godlike lessons, have
learned more sublime truths, than ever I acquired in the smooth
highways of the world!
The independent in soul can rise above the seeming disgrace of
poverty, and hold fast their integrity, in defiance of the world and
its selfish and unwise maxims. To them, no labour is too great, no
trial too severe; they will unflinchingly exert every faculty of
mind and body, before they will submit to become a burden to others.
The misfortunes that now crowded upon us were the result of no
misconduct or extravagance on our part, but arose out of
circumstances which we could not avert nor control. Finding too late
the error into which we had fallen, in suffering ourselves to be
cajoled and plundered out of our property by interested speculators,
we braced our minds to bear the worst, and determined to meet our
difficulties calmly and firmly, nor suffer our spirits to sink under
calamities which energy and industry might eventually repair. Having
once come to this resolution, we cheerfully shared together the
labours of the field.
