With this sentence on his lips, he started abruptly from his seat,
and left the house.
One day he found me painting some wild flowers, and was greatly
interested in watching the progress I made in the group. Late in
the afternoon of the following day he brought me a large bunch
of splendid spring flowers.
"Draw these," said he; "I have been all the way to the - - lake
plains to find them for you."
Little Katie, grasping them one by one, with infantile joy, kissed
every lovely blossom.
"These are God's pictures," said the hunter, "and the child, who is
all nature, understands them in a minute. Is it not strange that
these beautiful things are hid away in the wilderness, where no eyes
but the birds of the air, and the wild beasts of the wood, and the
insects that live upon them, ever see them? Does God provide, for
the pleasure of such creatures, these flowers? Is His benevolence
gratified by the admiration of animals whom we have been taught to
consider as having neither thought nor reflection? When I am alone
in the forest, these thoughts puzzle me."
Knowing that to argue with Brian was only to call into action the
slumbering fires of his fatal malady, I turned the conversation by
asking him why he called his favourite dog Chance?
"I found him," he said, "forty miles back in the bush. He was a mere
skeleton. At first I took him for a wolf, but the shape of his head
undeceived me. I opened my wallet, and called him to me. He came
slowly, stopping and wagging his tail at every step, and looking me
wistfully in the face. I offered him a bit of dried venison, and he
soon became friendly, and followed me home, and has never left me
since. I called him Chance, after the manner I happened with him;
and I would not part with him for twenty dollars."
Alas, for poor Chance! he had, unknown to his master, contracted a
private liking for fresh mutton, and one night he killed no less
than eight sheep that belonged to Mr. D - -, on the front road; the
culprit, who had been long suspected, was caught in the very act,
and this mischance cost him his life. Brian was sad and gloomy for
many weeks after his favourite's death.
"I would have restored the sheep fourfold," he said, "if he would
but have spared the life of my dog."
My recollections of Brian seemed more particularly to concentrate in
the adventures of one night, when I happened to be left alone, for
the first time since my arrival in Canada. I cannot now imagine how
I could have been such a fool as to give way for four-and-twenty
hours to such childish fears; but so it was, and I will not disguise
my weakness from my indulgent reader.
Moodie had bought a very fine cow of a black man, named Mollineux,
for which he was to give twenty-seven dollars. The man lived twelve
miles back in the woods; and one fine, frosty spring day - (don't
smile at the term frosty, thus connected with the genial season of
the year; the term is perfectly correct when applied to the Canadian
spring, which, until the middle of May, is the most dismal season of
the year) - he and John Monaghan took a rope, and the dog, and
sallied forth to fetch the cow home. Moodie said that they should be
back by six o'clock in the evening, and charged me to have something
cooked for supper when they returned, as he doubted not their long
walk in the sharp air would give them a good appetite. This was
during the time that I was without a servant, and living in old
Mrs. - -'s shanty.
The day was so bright and clear, and Katie was so full of frolic and
play, rolling upon the floor, or toddling from chair to chair, that
the day passed on without my feeling remarkably lonely. At length
the evening drew nigh, and I began to expect my husband's return,
and to think of the supper that I was to prepare for his reception.
The red heifer that we had bought of Layton, came lowing to the door
to be milked; but I did not know how to milk in those days, and,
besides this, I was terribly afraid of cattle. Yet, as I knew that
milk would be required for the tea, I ran across the meadow to Mrs.
Joe, and begged that one of her girls would be so kind as to milk
for me. My request was greeted with a rude burst of laughter from
the whole set.
"If you can't milk," said Mrs. Joe, "it's high time you should
learn. My girls are above being helps."
"I would not ask you but as a great favour; I am afraid of cows."
"Afraid of cows! Lord bless the woman! A farmer's wife, and afraid
of cows!"
Here followed another laugh at my expense; and, indignant at the
refusal of my first and last request, when they had all borrowed
so much from me, I shut the inhospitable door, and returned home.
After many ineffectual attempts, I succeeded at last, and bore my
half-pail of milk in triumph to the house. Yes! I felt prouder of
that milk than many an author of the best thing he ever wrote,
whether in verse or prose; and it was doubly sweet when I considered
that I had procured it without being under any obligation to my
ill-natured neighbours. I had learned a useful lesson of
independence, to which, in after-years, I had often again to refer.
I fed little Katie and put her to bed, made the hot cakes for tea,
boiled the potatoes, and laid the ham, cut in nice slices, in the
pan, ready to cook the moment I saw the men enter the meadow, and
arranged the little room with scrupulous care and neatness.
