It Is Possible That Q - - Foresaw What Actually Happened; Or, More
Probably, He Thought He Could Employ His Money Better In Land
Speculations.
As soon as the steamer began to run, a quarrel took
place between the shareholders who resided at C - -, where she
was built, and those who lived at the capital of the Upper
Province - York, as it was then called.
The consequence was that she
remained idle a long time, and at last she came under the entire
control of the shareholders at York, who managed the boat as they
liked, and to suit their own interests. Afterwards, though the boat
continued to be profitably employed, somehow or other all her
earnings were consumed in repairs, &c., and for several years I
never received a penny for my shares. At last the steamer was sold,
and I only received about a fourth part of my original stock. This,
as may be supposed, was a bitter disappointment to me; for I had
every reason to think that I had not only invested my money well,
but very profitably, judging from the profits of the other boats on
the lake. Had I received the proceeds of my commission, and bought
bank stock in the colony - which then and still yields eight per
cent. - my 700 pounds sterling, equal to 840 pounds currency, would
have given me 60 pounds per annum, which, with my own labour, would
have kept my family tolerably well, have helped to pay servants,
and have saved us all much privation and harassing anxiety.
Having thus supplied the painful details of a transaction, a
knowledge of which was necessary to explain many circumstances in
our situation, otherwise unintelligible, I shall proceed with my
narrative.
The government did not carry out its intention with respect to
half-pay officers in the colonies; but many officers, like myself,
had already sold their commissions, under the apprehension of being
compelled to accept this hard alternative. I was suddenly thrown
on my own resources, to support a helpless and increasing family,
without any regular income. I had this consolation, however, under
my misfortune, that I had acted from the best motives, and without
the most remote idea that I was risking the comfort and happiness
of those depending upon me. I found very soon, that I had been too
precipitate, as people often are in extraordinary positions; though,
had the result been more fortunate, most people would have commended
my prudence and foresight. We determined, however, to bear up
manfully against our ill-fortune, and trust to that Providence which
never deserts those who do not forget their own duties in trying
circumstances.
It is curious how, on such occasions, some stray stanzas which hang
about the outskirts of the memory, will suddenly come to our aid.
Thus, I often caught myself humming over some of the verses of that
excellent moral song "The Pilot," and repeating, with a peculiar
emphasis, the concluding lines of each stanza,
"Fear not! but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou may'st be."
Such songs do good; and a peculiar blessing seems to attend every
composition, in prose or verse, which inculcates good moral
sentiments, or tends to strengthen our virtuous resolutions. This
fine song, I feel assured, will live embalmed in the memory of
mankind long after the sickly, affected, and unnatural ditties of
its author have gone to their merited oblivion. Sometimes, however,
in spite of my good resolutions, when left alone, the dark clouds of
despondency would close around me, and I could not help contrasting
the happy past in our life with my gloomy anticipations of the
future. Sleep, which should bring comfort and refreshment, often
only aggravated my painful regrets, by recalling scenes which had
nearly escaped my waking memory. In such a mood the following verses
were written: -
OH, LET ME SLEEP!
Oh, let me sleep! nor wake to sadness
The heart that, sleeping, dreams of gladness;
For sleep is death, without the pain -
Then wake me not to life again.
Oh, let me sleep! nor break the spell
That soothes the captive in his cell;
That bursts his chains, and sets him free,
To revel in his liberty.
Loved scenes, array'd in tenderest hue,
Now rise in beauty to my view;
And long-lost friends around me stand,
Or, smiling, grasp my willing hand.
Again I seek my island home;
Along the silent bays I roam,
Or, seated on the rocky shore,
I hear the angry surges roar.
And oh, how sweet the music seems
I've heard amid my blissful dreams!
But of the sadly pleasing strains,
Nought save the thrilling sense remains.
Those sounds so loved in scenes so dear,
Still - still they murmur in my ear:
But sleep alone can bless the sight
With forms that face with morning's light.
J.W.D.M.
CHAPTER XIV
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
'Tis well for us poor denizens of earth
That God conceals the future from our gaze;
Or Hope, the blessed watcher on Life's tower,
Would fold her wings, and on the dreary waste
Close the bright eye that through the murky clouds
Of blank Despair still sees the glorious sun.
It was a bright frosty morning when I bade adieu to the farm, the
birthplace of my little Agnes, who, nestled beneath my cloak, was
sweetly sleeping on my knee, unconscious of the long journey before
us into the wilderness. The sun had not as yet risen. Anxious to get
to our place of destination before dark, we started as early as we
could. Our own fine team had been sold the day before for forty
pounds; and one of our neighbours, a Mr. D - -, was to convey us and
our household goods to Douro for the sum of twenty dollars. During
the week he had made several journeys, with furniture and stores;
and all that now remained was to be conveyed to the woods in two
large lumber sleighs, one driven by himself, the other by a younger
brother.
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