World to find;
Led by that God, who from His throne
Regards the poor man's stifled moan.
Like one awaken'd from the dead,
The peasant lifts his drooping head,
Nerves his strong heart and sunburnt hand,
To win a potion of the land,
That glooms before him far and wide
In frowning woods and surging tide
No more oppress'd, no more a slave,
Here freedom dwells beyond the wave.
"Joy, to those hardy sires who bore
The day's first heat - their toils are o'er;
Rude fathers of this rising land,
Theirs was a mission truly grand.
Brave peasants whom the Father, God,
Sent to reclaim the stubborn sod;
Well they perform'd their task, and won
Altar and hearth for the woodman's son.
Joy, to Canada's unborn heirs,
A deathless heritage is theirs;
For, sway'd by wise and holy laws,
Its voice shall aid the world's great cause,
Shall plead the rights of man, and claim
For humble worth an honest name;
Shall show the peasant-born can be,
When call'd to action, great and free.
Like fire, within the flint conceal'd,
By stern necessity reveal'd,
Kindles to life the stupid sod,
Image of perfect man and God.
"Joy, to thy unborn sons, for they
Shall hail a brighter, purer day;
When peace and Christian brotherhood
Shall form a stronger tie than blood -
And commerce, freed from tax and chain,
Shall build a bridge o'er earth and main;
And man shall prize the wealth of mind,
The greatest blessing to mankind;
True Christians, both in word and deed,
Ready in virtue's cause to bleed,
Against a world combined to stand,
And guard the honour of the land.
Joy, to the earth, when this shall be,
Time verges on eternity."
CHAPTER I
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
Alas! that man's stern spirit e'er should mar
A scene so pure - so exquisite as this.
The dreadful cholera was depopulating Quebec and Montreal when our
ship cast anchor off Grosse Isle, on the 30th of August 1832, and
we were boarded a few minutes after by the health-officers.
One of these gentlemen - a little, shrivelled-up Frenchman - from
his solemn aspect and attenuated figure, would have made no bad
representative of him who sat upon the pale horse. He was the only
grave Frenchman I had ever seen, and I naturally enough regarded
him as a phenomenon. His companion - a fine-looking fair-haired
Scotchman - though a little consequential in his manners, looked
like one who in his own person could combat and vanquish all the
evils which flesh is heir to. Such was the contrast between these
doctors, that they would have formed very good emblems, one, of
vigorous health, the other, of hopeless decay.
Our captain, a rude, blunt north-country sailor, possessing
certainly not more politeness than might be expected in a bear,
received his sprucely dressed visitors on the deck, and, with very
little courtesy, abruptly bade them follow him down into the cabin.
The officials were no sooner seated, than glancing hastily round
the place, they commenced the following dialogue: -
"From what port, captain?"
Now, the captain had a peculiar language of his own, from which he
commonly expunged all the connecting links. Small words, such as
"and" and "the," he contrived to dispense with altogether.
"Scotland - sailed from port o' Leith, bound for Quebec, Montreal -
general cargo - seventy-two steerage, four cabin passengers - brig
Anne, one hundred and ninety-two tons burden, crew eight hands."
Here he produced his credentials, and handed them to the strangers.
The Scotchman just glanced over the documents, and laid them on the
table.
"Had you a good passage out?"
"Tedious, baffling winds, heavy fogs, detained three weeks on
Banks - foul weather making Gulf - short of water, people out of
provisions, steerage passengers starving."
"Any case of sickness or death on board?"
"All sound as crickets."
"Any births?" lisped the little Frenchman.
The captain screwed up his mouth, and after a moment's reflection
he replied, "Births? Why, yes; now I think on't, gentlemen, we had
one female on board, who produced three at a birth."
"That's uncommon," said the Scotch doctor, with an air of lively
curiosity. "Are the children alive and well? I should like much to
see them." He started up, and knocked his head - for he was very
tall - against the ceiling. "Confound your low cribs! I have nearly
dashed out my brains."
"A hard task, that," looked the captain to me. He did not speak,
but I knew by his sarcastic grin what was uppermost in his
thoughts. "The young ones all males - fine thriving fellows. Step
upon deck, Sam Frazer," turning to his steward; "bring them down
for doctors to see." Sam vanished, with a knowing wink to his
superior, and quickly returned, bearing in his arms three fat,
chuckle-headed bull-terriers, the sagacious mother following
close at his heels, and looked ready to give and take offence on
the slightest provocation.
"Here, gentlemen, are the babies," said Frazer, depositing his
burden on the floor. "They do credit to the nursing of the brindled
slut."
The old tar laughed, chuckled, and rubbed his hands in an ecstacy
of delight at the indignation and disappointment visible in the
countenance of the Scotch Esculapius, who, angry as he was, wisely
held his tongue. Not so the Frenchman; his rage scarcely knew
bounds - he danced in a state of most ludicrous excitement, he
shook his fist at our rough captain, and screamed at the top of his
voice -
"Sacre, you bete! You tink us dog, ven you try to pass your puppies
on us for babies?"
"Hout, man, don't be angry," said the Scotchman, stifling a laugh;
"you see 'tis only a joke!"
"Joke! me no understand such joke.
