Then turning to me, "Well,
Mrs. Moodie, I hope that you have had enough of Grosse Isle. But
could you have witnessed the scenes that I did this morning - "
Here he was interrupted by the wife of the old Scotch dragoon,
Mackenzie, running down to the boat and laying her hand familiarly
upon his shoulder, "Captain, dinna forget."
"Forget what?"
She whispered something confidentially in his ear.
"Oh, ho! the brandy!" he responded aloud. "I should have thought,
Mrs. Mackenzie, that you had had enough of that same on yon
island?"
"Aye, sic a place for decent folk," returned the drunken body,
shaking her head. "One needs a drap o' comfort, captain, to keep up
one's heart ava."
The captain set up one of his boisterous laughs as he pushed the
boat from the shore. "Hollo! Sam Frazer! steer in, we have
forgotten the stores."
"I hope not, captain," said I; "I have been starving since
daybreak."
"The bread, the butter, the beef, the onions, and potatoes are
here, sir," said honest Sam, particularizing each article.
"All right; pull for the ship. Mrs. Moodie, we will have a glorious
supper, and mind you don't dream of Grosse Isle."
In a few minutes we were again on board. Thus ended my first day's
experience of the land of all our hopes.
OH! CAN YOU LEAVE YOUR NATIVE LAND?
A Canadian Song
Oh! can you leave your native land
An exile's bride to be;
Your mother's home, and cheerful hearth,
To tempt the main with me;
Across the wide and stormy sea
To trace our foaming track,
And know the wave that heaves us on
Will never bear us back?
And can you in Canadian woods
With me the harvest bind,
Nor feel one lingering, sad regret
For all you leave behind?
Can those dear hands, unused to toil,
The woodman's wants supply,
Nor shrink beneath the chilly blast
When wintry storms are nigh?
Amid the shades of forests dark,
Our loved isle will appear
An Eden, whose delicious bloom
Will make the wild more drear.
And you in solitude will weep
O'er scenes beloved in vain,
And pine away your life to view
Once more your native plain.
Then pause, dear girl! ere those fond lips
Your wanderer's fate decide;
My spirit spurns the selfish wish -
You must not be my bride.
But oh, that smile - those tearful eyes,
My firmer purpose move -
Our hearts are one, and we will dare
All perils thus to love!
[This song has been set to a beautiful plaintive air,
by my husband.]
CHAPTER II
QUEBEC
Queen of the West! - upon thy rocky throne,
In solitary grandeur sternly placed;
In awful majesty thou sitt'st alone,
By Nature's master-hand supremely graced.
The world has not thy counterpart - thy dower,
Eternal beauty, strength, and matchless power.
The clouds enfold thee in their misty vest,
The lightning glances harmless round thy brow;
The loud-voiced thunder cannot shake thy nest,
Or warring waves that idly chafe below;
The storm above, the waters at thy feet -
May rage and foam, they but secure thy seat.
The mighty river, as it onward rushes
To pour its floods in ocean's dread abyss,
Checks at thy feet its fierce impetuous gushes,
And gently fawns thy rocky base to kiss.
Stern eagle of the crag! thy hold should be
The mountain home of heaven-born liberty!
True to themselves, thy children may defy
The power and malice of a world combined;
While Britain's flag, beneath thy deep blue sky,
Spreads its rich folds and wantons in the wind;
The offspring of her glorious race of old
May rest securely in their mountain hold.
On the 2nd of September, the anchor was weighed, and we bade a long
farewell to Grosse Isle. As our vessel struck into mid-channel, I
cast a last lingering look at the beautiful shores we were leaving.
Cradled in the arms of the St. Lawrence, and basking in the bright
rays of the morning sun, the island and its sister group looked
like a second Eden just emerged from the waters of chaos. With what
joy could I have spent the rest of the fall in exploring the
romantic features of that enchanting scene! But our bark spread her
white wings to the favouring breeze, and the fairy vision gradually
receded from my sight, to remain for ever on the tablets of memory.
The day was warm, and the cloudless heavens of that peculiar azure
tint which gives to the Canadian skies and waters a brilliancy
unknown in more northern latitudes. The air was pure and elastic,
the sun shone out with uncommon splendour, lighting up the changing
woods with a rich mellow colouring, composed of a thousand
brilliant and vivid dyes. The mighty river rolled flashing and
sparkling onward, impelled by a strong breeze, that tipped its
short rolling surges with a crest of snowy foam.
Had there been no other object of interest in the landscape than
this majestic river, its vast magnitude, and the depth and
clearness of its waters, and its great importance to the colony,
would have been sufficient to have riveted the attention, and
claimed the admiration of every thinking mind.
Never shall I forget that short voyage from Grosse Isle to Quebec.
I love to recall, after the lapse of so many years, every object
that awoke in my breast emotions of astonishment and delight.
What wonderful combinations of beauty, and grandeur, and power,
at every winding of that noble river! How the mind expands with
the sublimity of the spectacle, and soars upward in gratitude
and adoration to the Author of all being, to thank Him for having
made this lower world so wondrously fair - a living temple,
heaven-arched, and capable of receiving the homage of all
worshippers.
Every perception of my mind became absorbed into the one sense
of seeing, when, upon rounding Point Levi, we cast anchor before
Quebec.
