About noon two sleighs turned into our clearing. Old Jenny ran
screaming into the room, "The masther has sent for us at last! The
sleighs are come! Fine large sleighs, and illigant teams of horses!
Och, and its a cowld day for the wee things to lave the bush."
The snow had been a week in advance of us at B - -, and my husband
had sent up the teams to remove us. The children jumped about, and
laughed aloud for joy. Old Jenny did not know whether to laugh or
cry, but she set about helping me to pack up trunks and bedding as
fast as our cold hands would permit.
In the midst of the confusion, my brother arrived, like a good
genius, to our assistance, declaring his determination to take us
down to B - - himself in his large lumber-sleigh. This was indeed
joyful news. In less than three hours he despatched the hired
sleighs with their loads, and we all stood together in the empty
house, striving to warm our hands over the embers of the expiring
fire.
How cold and desolate every object appeared! The small windows, half
blocked up with snow, scarcely allowed a glimpse of the declining
sun to cheer us with his serene aspect. In spite of the cold,
several kind friends had waded through the deep snow to say, "God
bless you! - Good-bye;" while a group of silent Indians stood
together, gazing upon our proceedings with an earnestness which
showed that they were not uninterested in the scene. As we passed
out to the sleigh, they pressed forward, and silently held out their
hands, while the squaws kissed me and the little ones with tearful
eyes. They had been true friends to us in our dire necessity, and I
returned their mute farewell from my very heart.
Mr. S - - sprang into the sleigh. One of our party was missing.
"Jenny!" shouted my brother, at the top of his voice, "it is too
cold to keep your mistress and the little children waiting."
"Och, shure thin, it is I that am comin'!" returned the old body,
as she issued from the house.
Shouts of laughter greeted her appearance. The figure she cut upon
that memorable day I shall never forget. My brother dropped the
reins upon the horses' necks, and fairly roared. Jenny was about to
commence her journey to the front in three hats. Was it to protect
her from the cold? Oh, no; Jenny was not afraid of the cold! She
could have eaten her breakfast on the north side of an iceberg, and
always dispensed with shoes, during the most severe of our Canadian
winters. It was to protect these precious articles from injury.
Our good neighbour, Mrs. W - -, had presented her with an old
sky-blue drawn-silk bonnet, as a parting benediction. This, by way
of distinction, for she never had possessed such an article of
luxury as a silk bonnet in her life, Jenny had placed over the
coarse calico cap, with its full furbelow of the same yellow,
ill-washed, homely material, next to her head; over this, as second
in degree, a sun-burnt straw hat, with faded pink ribbons, just
showed its broken rim and tawdry trimmings; and, to crown all, and
serve as a guard to the rest, a really serviceable grey-beaver
bonnet, once mine, towered up as high as the celebrated crown in
which brother Peter figures in Swift's "Tale of a Tub."
"Mercy, Jenny! Why, old woman, you don't mean to go with us that
figure?"
"Och, my dear heart! I've no band-box to kape the cowld from
desthroying my illigant bonnets," returned Jenny, laying her
hand upon the side of the sleigh.
"Go back, Jenny; go back," cried my brother. "For God's sake
take all that tom-foolery from off your head. We shall be the
laughing-stock of every village we pass through."
"Och, shure now, Mr. S - -, who'd think of looking at an owld
crathur like me! It's only yersel' that would notice the like."
"All the world, everybody would look at you, Jenny. I believe that
you put on those hats to draw the attention of all the young fellows
that we shall happen to meet on the road. Ha, Jenny!"
With an air of offended dignity, the old woman returned to the
house to re-arrange her toilet, and provide for the safety of her
"illigant bonnets," one of which she suspended to the strings of
her cloak, while she carried the third dangling in her hand; and
no persuasion of mine would induce her to put them out of sight.
Many painful and conflicting emotions agitated my mind, but found no
utterance in words, as we entered the forest path, and I looked my
last upon that humble home consecrated by the memory of a thousand
sorrows. Every object had become endeared to me during my long exile
from civilised life. I loved the lonely lake, with its magnificent
belt of dark pines sighing in the breeze; the cedar-swamp, the
summer home of my dark Indian friends; my own dear little garden,
with its rugged snake-fence which I had helped Jenny to place
with my own hands, and which I had assisted the faithful woman in
cultivating for the last three years, where I had so often braved
the tormenting mosquitoes, black flies, and intense heat, to provide
vegetables for the use of the family. Even the cows, that had given
a breakfast for the last time to my children, were now regarded with
mournful affection. A poor labourer stood in the doorway of the
deserted house, holding my noble water-dog, Rover, in a string.
The poor fellow gave a joyous bark as my eyes fell upon him.
