Mr. W - - was a true follower of Christ. His
Christianity was not confined to his own denomination; and every
Sabbath his log cottage was filled with attentive auditors, of all
persuasions, who met together to listen to the word of life
delivered to them by a Christian minister in the wilderness.
He had been a very fine preacher, and though considerably turned of
seventy, his voice was still excellent, and his manner solemn and
impressive.
His only son, a young man of twenty-eight years of age, had received
a serious injury in the brain by falling upon a turf-spade from a
loft window when a child, and his intellect had remained stationary
from that time. Poor Harry was an innocent child; he loved his
parents with the simplicity of a child, and all who spoke kindly to
him he regarded as friends. Like most persons of his caste of mind,
his predilection for pet animals was a prominent instinct. He was
always followed by two dogs, whom he regarded with especial favour.
The moment he caught your eye, he looked down admiringly upon his
four-footed attendants, patting their sleek necks, and murmuring,
"Nice dogs - nice dogs." Harry had singled out myself and my little
ones as great favourites. He would gather flowers for the girls, and
catch butterflies for the boys; while to me he always gave the title
of "dear aunt."
It so happened that one fine morning I wanted to walk a couple of
miles through the bush, to spend the day with Mrs. C - -; but the
woods were full of the cattle belonging to the neighbouring
settlers, and of these I was terribly afraid. Whilst I was dressing
the little girls to accompany me, Harry W - - came in with a message
from his mother. "Oh, thought I, here is Harry W - -. He will walk
with us through the bush, and defend us from the cattle."
The proposition was made, and Harry was not a little proud of being
invited to join our party. We had accomplished half the distance
without seeing a single hoof; and I was beginning to congratulate
myself upon our unusual luck, when a large red ox, maddened by the
stings of the gad-flies, came headlong through the brush, tossing
up the withered leaves and dried moss with his horns, and making
directly towards us. I screamed to my champion for help; but where
was he? - running like a frightened chipmunk along the fallen timber,
shouting to my eldest girl, at the top of his voice -
"Run Katty, run! - The bull, the bull! Run, Katty! - The bull,
the bull!" - leaving us poor creatures far behind in the chase.
The bull, who cared not one fig for us, did not even stop to give
us a passing stare, and was soon lost among the trees; while our
valiant knight never stopped to see what had become of us, but made
the best of his way home.
