Life in the Backwoods of Canada

II.

SUMMER and mosquitoes! Inseparable words in Canada, except in the large towns ; for I am told that the larger the clearing, the fewer the mosquitoes. We have four and one half acres quite clear, but unfortunately our log-house, instead of being placed in the middle, is at one end, with a well wooded hill and a portion of dense forest at the back and at one end; delicious retreat for our enemies, from whence they issued in myriads, tormenting us from morning till night, and all night long. This Egyptian plague began in the end of May, and lasted till the middle of September. We being new-comers they were virulent in their attacks, and we were bitten from head to foot; in a short time we felt more like lepers than healthy, clean people, and the want of sleep at night was most trying to us all after our hard work. Our only resource was keeping large smudges continually burning in pans. These smudges are made of decayed wood called “punk,” and smolder and smoke without flaming. When I went to bed at night (my only time for reading) I used to turn a long trunk end upwards close to my bolster, and place a large pan of “punk” on it, so that myself and my book were well enveloped in smoke. Many times in the night we had to renew our pans, and until the first dawn of day the buzzing of these hateful insects prevented all chance of sleep. Nor were the mosquitoes our only foes. Flics of all kinds swarmed around us, and one in particular, the deer fly, was a long black fly frightful to look at from its size. Still, as the flies did not circle about in the air as the mosquitoes did, we could better defend ourselves against them.

Towards the end of June I entered upon an entirely new phase of bush life, which was anything but pleasant to a person of a nervous, susceptible temperament. This was my being in perfect solitude for many hours of every day. Your sister-in-law needed medical advice, and it was thought advisable to place her in lodgings at B&emash;c. Her brother coming to pay her a visit entirely agreed in the necessity of the case, and as he kindly smoothed away the money difficulty, it was carried into execution. She could not go alone, and therefore your eldest sister accompanied her, and I lost my constant and only companion. I undertook now to keep house for both your brothers, as in his wife’s absence C. could have little comfort at home. I only saw them at meal-times, and though your eldest brother came home always before dusk, yet I could not but be very nervous at being so much alone. The weather became so hot that the stove was moved into the open air at the back of the house, and to save me fatigue, your brother cut a doorway at the back close to where the stove was placed. Unfortunately there was a great press of work at this time, and moreover no lumber on the premises, and therefore no door could be made, and the aperture, which I had nothing large enough to block up, remained all the summer, to my great discomfiture. I found more than enough of occupation, for though your brother made and baked the bread, which I was not strong enough to do, yet I cooked, washed for them, and did the housework, which I found sufficiently fatiguing, and was very glad after dinner to sit down to my writing-table, which I took good care to place so as to face the open door, never feeling safe to have it at my back. Your dear sister F. was so kind, that at great inconvenience to herself, on account of the heat and the flies in the forest, she managed to come nearly every day at four P. M. with the dear children, and remained till your brother came back for the night. He was occupied for many weeks in making hay with your brother and brother-in-law in C.’s beaver meadow, which is a large one and very productive. They made a great deal of hay and put it up in large cocks, but a great deal of it was lost by rotting on the ground, from not being carried away in proper time. The delay was occasioned by none of us having oxen of our own, and from not having the means of hiring till the season was past.

I fully realized during this summer that solitude in the bush is not privacy. Though in case of any accident I was out of reach of all human help, yet I was liable at any moment of the day to have some passing settler walk coolly in, and sit down in my very chair if I had vacated it for a moment. I got one fright which I shall not easily forget. I had given your two brothers their breakfast, and they had started for their hay-making. I had washed up the breakfast things, cleared everything away, and was arranging my hair in the glass hanging in the bed-place, the curtain of which was undrawn on account of the heat. My parting look in the glass disclosed a not very prepossessing face in the doorway behind, belonging to a man who stood there immovable as a statue and evidently enjoying my discomfiture. I greeted him with a scream which was almost a yell, and advanced pale as a ghost, having the agreeable sensation of all the blood in my body running down to my toes! His salutation was, “ Wall, I guess I 've skeered you some! ” “Yes!" I replied,”you startled me very much!” He then came in and sat down. I sat down too, and we fell into quite an easy flow of talk about the weather, the crops, etc., etc. How devoutly I wished him anywhere else, and how ill I felt after my fright, I need not say, but I flatter myself that nothing of this appeared on the surface; all was courtesy and politeness. At length he went away, and, finding your brother in the beaver meadow, took care to inform him that he “had had quite a pleasant chat with his old woman! ”

I had visitors during the summer who were much more welcome. Two nice intelligent little boys, with bare feet and shining faces, the children of an American from the “ States ” settled in the Muskoka road, used to come twice a week with milk, eggs, and baskets of the delicious wild raspberry at five cents a quart. While they were resting and refreshing themselves with cold tea and bread and butter, we used to have quite pleasant conversations. They were very confidential, told me how anxiously they were expecting a grandmother of whom they were very fond, and who was coming to live with them; of their progress and prizes in the Sunday-school some miles from here which they regularly attended; of their garden, and of many other little family matters, and, when I gave them some story-books for children and little tracts, they informed me that they would be kept for Sunday reading. They never failed, with the things they brought for sale, to bring me as a present a bunch of beautiful sweet-peas and mignonnette, and occasionally a scarlet gladiolus. When they were gone I used to sit down to my letter-writing; and after all my grubbing and housework, I felt quite elevated in the social scale to have a beautiful bouquet on my writingtable, which I took care to arrange with a background of delicate fern leaves, and dark, slender sprigs of the ground hemlock. The very smell of the flowers reminded me of my beloved transatlantic home, with its wealth of beautiful plants and flowering shrubs, and every room decorated with vases of lovely flowers, which I passed some delicious morning hours in collecting and arranging.

I remained all the summer strictly a prisoner at home. The not being able to shut up the log-house of course prevented my leaving it, for the bush is not Arcadia, and however primitive the manners and customs may be, I have failed to recognize primitive innocence among its inhabitants. As to the berrypicking, which is the favorite summer amusement here, I would sooner have gone without fruit than have ventured into the swamps and beaver meadows, where the raspberries, huckleberries, and cranberries abound. My fear of snakes was too overpowering. C. killed this summer no less than seven, and though we are told that in this part of Canada they are perfectly innoxious, yet your brother pointed out that three out of the seven he killed had the flat conformation of head which betokens a venomous sort.

I noticed this summer many times the curious appearance of our clearing by moonlight. In the day, the stumps stood out in all their naked deformity, as we had no " crops of golden grain ” to hide them, but at night I never beheld anything more weird and ghostly. The trees being mostly chopped in the winter, with deep snow on the ground, the stumps are left quite tall, varying from five to seven feet in height. When these are blackened by the burning, which runs all over the clearing, they present in the dim light the appearance of so many spectres. I could almost fancy myself in the cemetery on the Dunkirk road near Calais, and the blackened stumps those hideous black crosses which the French are so fond of erecting in their church-yards.

I very much missed the flocks of birds I was accustomed to in Europe, but as I always forbade any gun being fired off in my clearing, I soon made acquaintance with some. It was a treat to me to watch two audacious woodpeckers who would come and nibble at my stumps, and let me stand within a few feet of them, without the least fear. There was also a pretty snow-bird, which knew me so well that it would wait till I threw out crumbs and bits of potato for it, and once, when we had some meat hanging in a bag on the side of the house, which your brother tied up tightly to save it from depredation, this sagacious creature perched on the shed near, and actually looked me into untying the bag and pulling partly out a piece of the pork, upon which it set to work with such good will that in a few days some ounces of fat had disappeared.

In the mean time our news from B—e was not too good. After five weeks’ residence there, your sister-in-law had borne a little boy, and at first all had gone well; but she became very ill, and also the baby, and as he had to be brought up by hand, and there was a difficulty in getting pure milk in the town, it was thought better, when he was five weeks old, to bring them all back.

All journeys to and from the bush are prosecuted under such difficulties that it is very fortunate they are few and far between. Indeed, few of the better class of settlers would remain, but for the near prospect of government granting money for roads in the township. Towards the end of August I was compelled to pay my halfyearly visit to B—e for the purpose of getting my pension list signed and duly forwarded. Your brother likewise had to take in two settlers in the vicinity, to swear off some land before taking it up for G. At first we thought of making our way to the post-office, three miles off, and from thence taking places in the mail cart, but as we had to take in our settlers, and to pay all their expenses to and from B—e, your brother thought it best to send to the town for a wagon and team expressly for ourselves. This arrived, but alas! in the afternoon instead of the morning, which had been specially mentioned. On this day we fully proved the glorious uncertainty of the Canadian climate. The morning had been lovely, but towards three p. M. a soft, drizzling rain began to fall, which increased in volume and power till it became a drenching torrent. Your brother-in-law took charge of me, and assisted me in scrambling over the different gullies, but by the time I considered it safe to get into the wagon, I was already wet through The horses were so tired, having come from a distant journey, that we traveled very slowly, and it was dark when we drew up at the half-way house, where we were to have tea and to rest the poor animals.

Here we remained for two hours, and when we again started it was quite dark, with torrents of rain still falling, and the addition of occasional peals of thunder and flashes of lightning. The whole eight miles from the half-way house the horses could only walk very slowly, the night being pitch dark. I should have been very nervous but for my implicit faith in the sagacity of the horses, and the great care of the driver, whom we only knew under his sobriquet of “ Canadian Joe.” He was a quiet, careful man, a French Canadian, who beguiled the way by singing very sweetly, and with whom it was pleasant to converse in the language we loved so well. He took us safely into B—e, with the addition to our party of two travelers we overtook on the road, and upon whom we had compassion. When we got in, the hotel was about closing for the night, the fires were out, and the landlady had gone to bed ill; but the master bestirred himself, showed me to a comfortable bedroom, and made me some negus, which your brother, himself wet to the skin, soon brought me, and which at least warmed me a little after so many hours of exposure to cold and wet.

The next morning, as soon as we could get into thoroughly dried clothes, we went to see our invalids. Your poor sister-in-law was still suffering much, but her baby was improving, and after more than two months’ absence, I was thankful to see your sister only looking very pale, and not as I expected, utterly worn out by her arduous duties and compulsory vigils and anxieties. Your brother was obliged to return to the bush on Saturday, but I remained to come home with your sister and sister-in-law the next week. In the mean time, having been to the magistrate’s office and transacted all our business, I greatly enjoyed with your brother walking about the neighborhood. It was indeed a treat to walk on a good road, and to see signs of life everywhere, instead of the silent monotony of the forest. We noticed an amazing change for the better in this “ rising village of the far West,” which we had not seen for six months. The hotels and stores seemed to have quadrupled themselves, good frame houses were springing up in every direction, and a very pretty little church, since opened for Church of England service, was nearly finished. These lumber houses are very ugly at first, on account of the yellow hue of the wood, but this is soon toned down by exposure to the weather, and climbing plants and pretty gardens soon alter their appearance, and make them picturesque.

The dull, primitive life of the bush certainly prepares one to be pleased with trifles. I reveled like a child in the unwonted stir and hum of life about me. On Tuesday your brother C. came in, and made arrangements to take his wife, child, and your sister back on the following day. I made up my mind to go back with them, and again we took care to secure Canadian Joe and his team. It was a perilous journey for one in so much physical suffering, but it was admirably managed. We laid a soft mattress in the bottom of the wagon, with plenty of pillows. On this we placed your sister-in-law with the baby by her side. C. sat with them to keep all steady; your sister and I sat with the driver. Canadian Joe surpassed himself in the care he took of the invalid; every bad piece of road he came to, he walked his horses quite softly, looking back at C. with a warning shake of the head, as much as to say, “ Take care of her now! ” We traveled slowly, but by his great care arrived safely, and at the cleared farm nearest to mine we were met by your brother and brother-in-law, who had skillfully arranged a ship’s hammock on a pole, and made of it a very tolerable palanquin. Into this your sister-in-law was carefully lifted, and two of the gentlemen carried her, the third relieving them at intervals. They got her safely over all the gullies, and carried her past my log-house to her own home, where she was at once put to bed, and in a very few days began to recover. Your sister and I took charge of the dear little baby, and after a most fatiguing walk, and much dangerous scrambling, with such a precious load, we got him safely here, where he has remained our cherished nursling ever since, and has thriven well. His dear young mother, having quite recovered, comes every day to be with her little treasure. We only just arrived in time; the rain began again and continued for some days. We had much trouble with the rain drifting in through the clapboards of the roof — the heat of the stove having warped them considerably; and at night we lay with the baby between us, and a large umbrella fixed at the head of the bed to save us from the roof drippings!

We had two visits this autumn from which we derived much pleasure. One from our old friend C. W., and one from a friend and connection of your sister-in-law’s family, her eldest brother having married one of his sisters. H. L. was quite an addition to our working party. More than six feet high, strong and active, he fraternized at once with your brothers, and cheerfully helped them in their daily labors. Your brother hired a team of oxen for some days, and had the remaining trees lying in our clearing logged up, and watched for the first fine dry weather to complete the burning begun in spring. Our two young friends assisted him in hs labors, and they managed so well that the regular day’s work was not interfered with. Every evening they set fire to some of the log-heaps, and diligently “ branded ” them up till they were reduced to ashes. As we could not admit our two friends into the house after a certain hour in the evening, and as their vigils extended far into the night, your brother used to provide the party with plenty of potatoes, which they roasted in the ashes and ate with butter and salt, with a large pot of coffee, and an unlimited supply of tobacco — they being all inveterate smokers.

As they all had fine voices and sang well together, the gypsy party was not a dull one, and the forest echoed with their favorite songs. Fortunately there was no one in our solitary neighborhood to be disturbed from their slumbers, and provided they did not wake the baby, we rather enjoyed the unwonted noise, knowing how much they were enjoying themselves.

Perhaps the most amusing time of all was the Saturday afternoon, when what we ladies called the “Jew trading” invariably took place. I really think that every article belonging to our young men changed hands at these times, and the amusing manner in which the stores of each were laid out for public admiration, and regularly haggled for, cannot be forgotten. In this manner your eldest brother’s celebrated Chassepot gun, picked up on the field of Sédan, gave place to a Colt’s revolver and a small fowling-piece; his heavy gold seal (a much coveted article) took the more useful form of corduroy trousers and heavy boots; in like manner both your brothers gladly bartered their fine dress shirts and handkerchiefs and satin ties for coarser garments better fitted for the bush, of which both C. W. and H. L. had a good stock now quite useless to them, as neither could make up his mind to a bush life. These amusing transfers of property came to a close at last, after some weeks of incessant trafficking, with your brother’s solemnly asking my permission to hand over to H. L., as a make-weight in the scale, a large woolen comforter which I had knitted for him.

Not one of the ladies in our three families has a special vocation for grubbing and housemaiding, though all have done it since we came here without complaint, and have done it well. Indeed, a most respectable settler, who, with other men and a team of oxen, was working for some days on our land to help your brother, remarked to his wife, that he was quite astonished that a young lady (meaning your eldest sister) evidently unaccustomed to hard work, could do so much and could do it so well. He had noticed how comfortably all the different meals had been prepared and arranged. Your sister F. too, in spite of the hindrance of three little children, has always given satisfaction to the workmen employed by her husband. Thinking over these things, a very grave subject of consideration has arisen among us on the subject of domestic servants. Should any providential change in our circumstances take place, or our farms become even moderately thriving, we should certainly once more require these social incumbrances; but where to find them would be the question — certainly not in the settlement to which we belong. We should of course hail the day when we could have the help in all household matters we formerly enjoyed, but we must surely seek for it at a distance from here. The children of the settlers, both boys and girls, know well that on attaining the age of eighteen years, they can each claim and take up from government a free grant of one hundred acres. They naturally feel their incipient independence, and their individual interest in the country, and this makes them less inclined to submit to the few restrictions of servitude still sanctioned by common-sense and general observance. They serve their temporary masters and mistresses under protest, as it were, and are most unwilling to acknowledge their title to these obnoxious names. They consider it their undoubted right to be on a footing of perfect equality with every member of the family, and have no inclination whatever to “sit below the salt.” When your sister-in-law returned from B—e her health was for some time too delicate for her to do any hard work, and we, having the charge of the baby, Could give her no assistance. Your brother C. looked about the settlement for a respectable girl as a servant. He found one in every way suitable, about sixteen and apparently healthy, strong, willing, and tolerably competent. He liked her appearance, and engaged her at the wages she asked. She entered upon her place, did her work well, and gave entire satisfaction. Everything was done to make her comfortable, even to the extent of giving her the whole Sunday to herself, as she was in the habit of attending the church some miles off, and also the Sunday-school. In little more than a week she suddenly left, assigning no reason but that she was “wanted at home,” which we knew to be a falsehood, as she had two or three sisters capable of assisting her mother. We were greatly puzzled to find out her true reason for leaving. After a time it was made clear to us by a trustworthy person who had it from the family themselves. The young lady had found it intolerably dull, and it was further explained to us, that no settler would allow his daughter to be in service where she was not allowed to sit at the same table with the family, and to join freely in the conversation at all times.

In support of my oft-repeated assertion that poor ladies and gentlemen form the worst, or at least the most unsuccessful class for emigration to Canada, I must give you a slight sketch of the class of settlers we have here, and of the conditions they must fulfill before they can hope to be in easy circumstances, much less in affluent ones. Of course I am speaking of settlers from the “old country,” and not of Canadians born who sometimes find their way from the “front,” to try their fortunes in the backwoods. The settlers in this neighborhood for a circuit of about eight miles are all of the lower classes : weavers from Scotland, agricultural laborers from England, artisans and mechanics from all parts. Whatever small sum of money a family of this class can collect with a view to emigration, very little of it is spent in coming over. They are invariably steerage passengers, and on landing at Quebec are forwarded free of all expense, and well provided for on the road, by the Emigration Society, to the part where they intend settling. Say that they come to the free grant lands of Muskoka. The intending settler goes before the commissioner of crown lands, and (if a single man) takes up a lot of one hundred acres; if married and with children, he can claim another lot as “ head of a family.” He finds the conditions of his tenure specified on the paper he signs, and sees that it will be five years before he can have his patent, and then only if he has cleared fifteen acres, and has likewise built thereon a log-house of certain dimensions. He pays some one a dollar to point out his lot, and to take him over it, and then selecting the best site, and with what assistance he can get from his neighbors, he clears a small patch of ground and builds a shanty. In the mean time, if he have a wife and family they are lodged and boarded at some near neighbor’s for a very small sum. When he and his family have taken possession, he underbrushes and chops as much as he possibly can before the winter sets in, but on the first approach of the cold weather he starts for the lumber shanties, and engages himself to work there, receiving from twenty to twenty-five dollars a month and his food. Should he be of any particular trade, he goes to some large town, and is tolerably sure of employment. It is certainly a very hard and anxious life for the wife and children, left to shift for themselves throughout the long, dreary winter, too often on a very slender provision of flour and potatoes, and little else. When spring at last, comes, the steady, hard-working settler returns with quite a little sum of money wherewith to commence his own farming operations. One of the most respectable settlers near us is a man who began life as a sturdy Kentish plowboy. He is now an elderly man with a very large family and a most thriving farm. He has thirty acres well cleared and under cultivation, has thirteen head of cattle and some fine pigs, has the best barn in the place, and has just removed his family into a large, commodious plank house, with many rooms and a very fine cellar, built entirely at odd times by himself and his son, a steady, clever lad of eighteen. This man for several years has gone at the beginning of the winter to one of the hotels in B—e where he acts as “ stable boy,” and makes a great deal of money, besides his food, which in such a place is of the best. He could very well now remain at home and reap the reward of his thrift and industry, but prefers going on for a year or two longer, while he still has health and strength.

Now it is obvious that ladies and gentlemen have not and cannot have these advantages. The ladies of a family cannot be left unprotected during the long winter, and indeed are for the most part physically incapable of chopping firewood, and doing other hard outdoor work. I speak most distinctly of poor ladies and gentlemen. Should people of ample means choose to encounter the inevitable privations of bush life, there are, of course, none which cannot be at least alleviated by a judicious expenditure of money. Here the settlers’ wives and daughters work almost as hard as their husbands and fathers — log, burn, plant, and dig; and in some instances, with the work adopt the habits of men, and smoke and chew tobacco to a considerable extent. This, I am happy to say, is not the case with all, nor even, I hope, with the majority; but nearly all the women, long before attaining middle age, look prematurely worn and faded, and many of the settlers themselves bear in their faces the unmistakable signs of hard work, scanty food, and a perpetual struggle for existence.

I have often spoken of the broad, deep gully at the end of my lot near the “ concession ” road. We had an old negro located on the strip of land between, for more than five weeks. One fearfully cold day last winter, during a heavy snow-storm, your brother C. came upon a poor old man “ camping” for the night on the road near here. He talked to him a little, gave him all the small change he happened to have about him, and coming home and telling us, we made a small collection, which with a loaf of bread he took to the old man next morning before he went away. Before the close of this autumn, C. again met his old acquaintance, looking more ragged and feeble than ever. He had with him only his ax and a small bundle. He said that he was making his way to a lot which he had taken up eight miles off, where he was going to locate himself and remain. He spoke, too, of having friends in the front, who would give him some assistance, and at least send him some flour. Again he camped out for the night, and we held a family consultation about him. Your brothers proposed going with him to his lot, and helping him to build his shanty. They talked of taking provisions and being out for some days. They also talked of taking him provisions twice a week during the winter, for fear he should starve, as he complained that his neighbors were very unkind to him, and did not want him located among them. We all loudly protested against this plan as being altogether quixotic, and reminded them that to carry out their plan they must periodically neglect their own work, leave us alone, and run the risk of being sometimes weather-bound, thus causing injury to their own health, and much alarm to us. We suggested an expedient: to let poor Jake settle himself near my gully for the winter, your brother to build him a shanty there, and to take him every day sufficient warm food to make him comfortable. C. promised to join with us, in giving him so much bread and potatoes every week. I paid one visit to the old negro, whom I found ugly, dirty, and with only one eye, but not at all repulsive-looking, as he had a very pleasant countenance, and talked well and intelligently. He agreed to our plan, and your brothers soon raised the logs of a good shanty, and till it was completed he built himself a wigwam, Indian fashion, which he made very warm and comfortable. We told him also that if he liked to make a small clearing round his shanty, we would pay him for his chopping when he left. The winter soon came, and the snow began to fall. The first very frosty night made us anxious about our old pensioner, and your brother went to him early the next morning with a can of hot tea for his breakfast. What was his astonishment when he crossed the gully to hear loud voices in Jake’s little encampment. On reaching it he asked the old man who was with him. He significantly pointed to the wigwam, from which a woman’s voice called out, “Yes! I’m here, and I’ve got the hagur! ” (ague?) A few minutes afterwards the owner of the voice issued from the hut, in the person of a stout, boldlooking, middle-aged woman (white), who evidently considered old Jake, his shanty, his wigwam, and all his effects, as her own undoubted property.

We found that this was the Mary of whom Jake had spoken as being the person with whom he had boarded and lodged in the front, and who had found him out here. In the course of the day both your brothers paid the old man a visit, and signified to him that it would be as well if he and his companion took their departure, as we knew he was not married to her, and we had a wholesome dread of five children, whom Jake had incidentally mentioned, following in the wake of their mother. We gave them leave, however, to remain till the Monday following, as we did not wish to drive any one out precipitately, who was suffering from the “hagur.” Till they went, we supplied them with provisions. On the following Monday they departed. Your brothers gave poor Jake two dollars for the little bit of chopping he had done, and we gave him some bread, coffee, and potatoes, as provision for his journey. Your brothers saw him and Mary off with all their bundles, and returned home, leaving my gully as silent and solitary as ever. We heard afterwards that Jake did not go to his own lot, as he seemed to intend, but was seen with his companion making his way to the main road out of the bush. A settler overtook them, and told us they were quarreling violently for the possession of a warm quilted French counterpane, which we had lent to old Jake to keep him warm in his wigwam, and had allowed him to take away.

We were disappointed this year in not having a visit from the old colporteur of Parry’s Sound. He came last year during a heavy storm of snow, with a large pack of cheap Bibles and Testaments, and told us he was an agent for the Wesleyan Society, and had orders to distribute gratis, where there was really no means of paying. In answer to some remark of mine, he said that the “Bible must always follow the ax.” This poor man was verging towards the decline of life, had a hollow cough, and was in frame very feeble and fragile, yet he was full of zeal, traveled incessantly, and dispensed numbers of copies of the Word of God as he passed from settlement to settlement. I bought two New Testaments for eight cents each, well printed, and strongly bound.

I am drawing to the close of my pleasant task of recording bush reminiscences. My labors have at least kept me from vain and fruitless regrets and repinings.

“ Lasciate ogni speranza voi che entrate ! ” How often have I repeated these dismal words to myself since I came into the bush, and felt them to be the knell of hope and happiness. But time flies, whether in joy or sorrow. We are now in the middle of our second winter, those dreadful winters of close imprisonment which last for nearly seven months, and which your sister and I both agree form the severest trial of bush life. My aspirations in former years were manifold, but were I asked now what were the three absolute essentials for human happiness, I should be tempted to reply, “ Roads to walk upon, a church to worship in, and a doctor within reach in case of necessity! ” All these are wanting in the bush, but as we have incessant daily occupation, an extensive correspondence, and as providentially we brought out all our stock of cherished books, we manage to live on without too much complaining. Your brother C. is doing pretty well, and hopes to bring his few animals (a settler’s riches), safely through the winter. Your brother - in - law also is making progress, and is expecting from England a partner (a young relation of his own), whose coming will probably insure him success. We remain just as we were, striving, struggling, and hoping against hope, that success may yet crown our endeavors. Our farm stock is easily counted, and easily taken care of: your brother’s dog, with three very fat puppies, my pretty cat “Tibbs,” with her little son “Hidge,” and a magnificent tom puss, whose real home is at “ Pioneer Cottage,” but who, being of social habits, and having a general invitation, does me the honor to eat, drink, and sleep here.

My sketches of bush life have been an occupation and an amusement to me, but I can truly say that they very faintly portray our sufferings and our privations. I now take leave of my readers (should I by chance have any), both gentle and simple, and heartily say to each and all, “ God be with you! ”

H. B. K.