Unfortunately, our new home
was surrounded by these odious squatters, whom we found as ignorant
as savages, without their courtesy and kindness.
The place we first occupied was purchased of Mr. B - -, a merchant,
who took it in payment of sundry large debts which the owner, a New
England loyalist, had been unable to settle. Old Joe R - -, the
present occupant, had promised to quit it with his family, at the
commencement of sleighing; and as the bargain was concluded in the
month of September, and we were anxious to plough for fall wheat, it
was necessary to be upon the spot. No house was to be found in the
immediate neighbourhood, save a small dilapidated log tenement, on
an adjoining farm (which was scarcely reclaimed from the bush) that
had been some months without an owner. The merchant assured is that
this could be made very comfortable until such time as it suited
R - - to remove, and the owner was willing to let us have it for the
moderate sum of four dollars a month.
Trusting to Mr. B - -'s word, and being strangers in the land,
we never took the precaution to examine this delightful summer
residence before entering upon it, but thought ourselves very
fortunate in obtaining a temporary home so near our own property,
the distance not exceeding half a mile. The agreement was drawn
up, and we were told that we could take possession whenever it
suited us.
The few weeks that I had sojourned in the country had by no means
prepossessed me in its favour. The home-sickness was sore upon me,
and all my solitary hours were spent in tears. My whole soul yielded
itself up to a strong and overpowering grief. One simple word dwelt
for ever in my heart, and swelled it to bursting - "Home!" I repeated
it waking a thousand times a day, and my last prayer before I sank
to sleep was still "Home! Oh, that I could return, if only to die
at home!" And nightly I did return; my feet again trod the daisied
meadows of England; the song of her birds was in my ears; I wept
with delight to find myself once more wandering beneath the fragrant
shade of her green hedge-rows; and I awoke to weep in earnest when I
found it but a dream. But this is all digression, and has nothing to
do with our unseen dwelling. The reader must bear with me in my fits
of melancholy, and take me as I am.
It was the 22nd September that we left the Steam-boat Hotel, to take
possession of our new abode. During the three weeks we had sojourned
at - -, I had not seen a drop of rain, and I began to think that the
fine weather would last for ever; but this eventful day arose in
clouds. Moodie had hired a covered carriage to convey the baby, the
servant-maid, and myself to the farm, as our driver prognosticated
a wet day; while he followed with Tom Wilson and the teams that
conveyed our luggage.
The scenery through which we were passing was so new to me, so
unlike anything that I had ever beheld before, that in spite of its
monotonous character, it won me from my melancholy, and I began to
look about me with considerable interest. Not so my English servant,
who declared that the woods were frightful to look upon; that it was
a country only fit for wild beasts; that she hated it with all her
heart and soul, and would go back as soon as she was able.
About a mile from the place of our destination the rain began to
fall in torrents, and the air, which had been balmy as a spring
morning, turned as chilly as that of a November day. Hannah
shivered; the baby cried, and I drew my summer shawl as closely
round as possible, to protect her from the sudden change in our
hitherto delightful temperature. Just then, the carriage turned into
a narrow, steep path, overhung with lofty woods, and after labouring
up it with considerable difficulty, and at the risk of breaking our
necks, it brought us at length to a rocky upland clearing, partially
covered with a second growth of timber, and surrounded on all sides
by the dark forest.
"I guess," quoth our Yankee driver, "that at the bottom of this 'ere
swell, you'll find yourself to hum;" and plunging into a short path
cut through the wood, he pointed to a miserable hut, at the bottom
of a steep descent, and cracking his whip, exclaimed, "'Tis a smart
location that. I wish you Britishers may enjoy it."
I gazed upon the place in perfect dismay, for I had never seen such
a shed called a house before. "You must be mistaken; that is not a
house, but a cattle-shed, or pig-sty."
The man turned his knowing, keen eye upon me, and smiled,
half-humorously, half-maliciously, as he said -
"You were raised in the old country, I guess; you have much to
learn, and more, perhaps, than you'll like to know, before the
winter is over."
I was perfectly bewildered - I could only stare at the place, with
my eyes swimming in tears; but as the horses plunged down into the
broken hollow, my attention was drawn from my new residence to the
perils which endangered life and limb at every step. The driver,
however, was well used to such roads, and, steering us dexterously
between the black stumps, at length drove up, not to the door, for
there was none to the house, but to the open space from which that
absent but very necessary appendage had been removed.
