Susanna Moodie

“ The last night of the old year was ushered in with furious storms of wind and snow; the rafters of our log cabin shook beneath the violence of the gale, which swept up from the lake like a lion roaring for its prey, driving the snow-flakes through every open crevice, of which there were not a few, and powdering the floor until it rivalled in whiteness the ground without.
“Oh, what a dreadful night!” we cried, as we huddled, shivering, around the old broken stove. “A person abroad in the woods to-night would be frozen. Flesh and blood could not long stand this cutting wind.” ”

“ Though rude our clime and coarse our cheer, True independence greets you here; Amid these forests, dark and wild, Dwells honest labour's hardy child. His happy lot I gladly share, And breathe a purer, freer air; No more by wealthy upstart spurn'd, The bread is sweet by labour earn'd; Indulgent heaven has bless'd the soil, And plenty crowns the woodman's toil. Beneath his axe, the forest yields Its thorny maze to fertile fields; This goodly breadth of well-till'd land, Well-purchased by his own right hand, With conscience clear, he can bequeath His children, when he sleeps in death. ”

“ What a beautiful moonlight night it was, as light as day!—the great forest sleeping tranquilly beneath the cloudless heavens—not a sound to disturb the deep repose of nature but the whispering of the breeze, which, during the most profound calm, creeps through the lofty pine tops. We bounded down the steep bank to the lake shore. Life is a blessing, a precious boon indeed, in such an hour, and we felt happy in the mere consciousness of existence—the glorious privilege of pouring out the silent adoration of the heart to the Great Father in his universal temple. ”

“ Before emigrating to Canada, I had been settled as a bachelor in South Africa for about twelve years. I use the word settled, for want of a better term—for a bachelor can never, properly, be said to be settled. He has no object in life—no aim. He is like a knife without a blade, or a gun without a barrel. He is always in the way, and nobody cares for him. If he work on a farm, as I did, for I never could look on while others were working without lending a hand, he works merely for the sake of work. He benefits nobody by his exertions, not even himself ”

“ Our hut is small, and rude our cheer, But love has spread the banquet here; And childhood springs to be caress'd By our beloved and welcome guest. With a smiling brow, his tale he tells, The urchins ring the merry sleigh-bells; The merry sleigh-bells, with shout and song They drag the noisy string along; Ding-dong, ding-dong, the father's come The gay bells ring his welcome home. From the cedar-swamp the gaunt wolves howl, From the oak loud whoops the felon owl; The snow-storm sweeps in thunder past, The forest creaks beneath the blast ”

“ When the sun's last beams Light up woods and streams, And brighten the gloom below; And the deer springs by With his flashing eye, And the shy, swift-footed doe; And the sad winds chide In the branches wide, With a tender plaint of woe. The Indian leans on its rugged trunk, With the bow in his red right-hand, And mourns that his race, like a stream, has sunk From the glorious forest land. But, blythe and free, The maple-tree Still tosses to sun and air Its thousand arms, While in countless swarms The wild bee revels there ”

“ The flowers, the green grass, the glorious sunshine, the birds of the air, and the young lambs gambolling down the verdant slopes, which fill the heart of a British child with a fond ecstacy, bathing the young spirit in Elysium, would float unnoticed before the vision of a Canadian child; while the sight of a dollar, or a new dress, or a gay bonnet, would swell its proud bosom with self-importance and delight. The glorious blush of modest diffidence, the tear of gentle sympathy, are so rare on the cheek, or in the eye of the young, that their appearance creates a feeling of surprise. ”

“ British mothers of Canadian sons!—learn to feel for their country the same enthusiasm which fills your hearts when thinking of the glory of your own. Teach them to love Canada—to look upon her as the first, the happiest, the most independent country in the world! Exhort them to be worthy of her—to have faith in her present prosperity, in her future greatness, and to devote all their talents, when they themselves are men, to accomplish this noble object. Make your children proud of the land of their birth, the land which has given them bread—the land in which you have found an altar and a home ”

“ The chafing billows round her close; But ere her burning planks are riven, Shoots up one ruddy spout of fire,— Her last farewell to earth and heaven. Down, down to endless night she goes! So may the traitor's hope expire, So perish all our country's foes! Destruction's blazing star Has vanish'd from our sight; The thunderbolt of war Is quench'd in endless night; Nor sight, nor sound of fear Startles the listening ear; Naught but the torrent's roar, The dull, deep, heavy sound, From out the dark profound, Echoes from shore to shore. ”

“ When the snows of winter are melting fast, And the sap begins to rise, And the biting breath of the frozen blast Yields to the spring's soft sighs, Then away to the wood, For the maple, good, Shall unlock its honied store; And boys and girls, With their sunny curls, Bring their vessels brimming o'er With the luscious flood Of the brave tree's blood, Into cauldrons deep to pour. The blaze from the sugar-bush gleams red; Far down in the forest dark, A ruddy glow on the trees is shed, That lights up their rugged bark ”

“ Lawrence towards the Gulf, is the finest of all, scarcely surpassed by anything in the world. Your eye follows the long range of lofty mountains until their blue summits are blended and lost in the blue of the sky. Some of these, partially cleared round the base, are sprinkled over with neat cottages; and the green slopes that spread around them are covered with flocks and herds. The surface of the splendid river is diversified with islands of every size and shape, some in wood, others partially cleared, and adorned with orchards and white farm-houses. ”

“ A CANADIAN SONG Come, launch the light canoe; The breeze is fresh and strong; The summer skies are blue, And 'tis joy to float along; Away o'er the waters, The bright-glancing waters, The many-voiced waters, As they dance in light and song. When the great Creator spoke, On the long unmeasured night The living day-spring broke, And the waters own'd His might; The voice of many waters, Of glad, rejoicing waters, Of living, leaping waters, First hailed the dawn of light. Where foaming billows glide To earth's remotest bound; The rushing ocean tide Rolls on the solemn sound ”

“ I was constantly reminded by the ladies of the house that gentlemen should not come to this country without they were able to put up with a little inconvenience; that I should make as good a settler as a butterfly in a beehive; that it was impossible to be nice about food and dress in the Bush; that people must learn to eat what they could get, and be content to be shabby and dirty, like their neighbours in the Bush,—until that horrid word Bushbecame synonymous with all that was hateful and revolting in my mind. ”

“ But, with a melancholy grace, She waved my shallop from the shore. She did not weep; but oh! that smile Was sadder than the briny tear That trembled on my cheek the while I bade adieu to one so dear. She did not speak—no accents fell From lips that breathed the balm of May; In broken words I strove to tell All that my broken heart would say. She did not speak—but to my eyes She raised the deep light of her own. As breaks the sun through cloudy skies, My spirit caught a brighter tone. “Dear girl!” I cried, “we ne'er can part, My angry father's wrath I'll brave ”

“ The solitary stroke of the axe that once broke the uniform silence of the vast woods is only heard in remote districts, and is superseded by the thundering tread of the iron horse and the ceaseless panting of the steam-engine in our sawmills and factories.
Canada is no longer a child, sleeping in the arms of nature, dependant for her very existence on the fostering care of her illustrious mother. She has outstepped infancy, and is in the full enjoyment of a strong and vigorous youth. ”

“ There's rest for labour's hardy child, For Nature's tribes of earth and air,— Whose sacred balm and influence mild, Save guilt and sorrow, all may share. There's rest beneath the quiet sod, When life and all its sorrows cease, And in the bosom of his God The Christian finds eternal peace,— That peace the world cannot bestow, The rest a Saviour's death-pangs bought, To bid the weary pilgrim know A rest surpassing human thought. ”

“ Love is so scarce in this world that we ought to prize it, however lowly the source from whence it flows.
We accomplished only twelve miles of our journey that night. The road lay through the bush, and along the banks of the grand, rushing, foaming Otonabee river, the wildest and most beautiful of forest streams. We slept at the house of kind friends, and early in the morning resumed our long journey, but minus one of our party. Our old favourite cat, Peppermint, had made her escape from the basket in which she had been confined, and had scampered off, to the great grief of the children. ”

“ THE INDIAN FISHERMAN'S LIGHT The air is still, the night is dark, No ripple breaks the dusky tide; From isle to isle the fisher's bark Like fairy meteor seems to glide; Now lost in shade—now flashing bright On sleeping wave and forest tree; We hail with joy the ruddy light, Which far into the darksome night Shines red and cheerily! With spear high poised, and steady hand, The centre of that fiery ray, Behold the Indian fisher stand Prepared to strike the finny prey; Hurrah! the shaft has sped below— Transfix'd the shining prize I see; On swiftly darts the birch canoe ”

“ AN ADDRESS TO THE FREEMEN OF CANADA Canadians! will you join the band— The factious band—who dare oppose The regal power of that bless'd land From whence your boasted freedom flows? Brave children of a noble race, Guard well the altar and the hearth; And never by your deeds disgrace The British sires who gave you birth. What though your bones may never lie Beneath dear Albion's hallow'd sod, Spurn the base wretch who dare defy, In arms, his country and his God! Whose callous bosom cannot feel That he who acts a traitor's part, Remorselessly uplifts the steel To plunge it in a parent's heart. ”

“ The cunning which they display in their contests with their enemies, in their hunting, and in making bargains with the whites (who are too apt to impose on their ignorance) , seems to spring more from a law of necessity, forced upon them by their isolated position and precarious mode of life, than from any innate wish to betray. The Indian's face, after all, is a perfect index of his mind. The eye changes its expression with every impulse and passion, and shows what is passing within as clearly as the lightning in a dark night betrays the course of the stream. ”

“ Here praties grow bigger nor turnips; And though cruel hard is our work, In ould Ireland we'd nothing but praties, But here we have praties and pork. I live on the banks of a meadow, Now see that my maning you take; It bates all the bogs of ould Ireland— Six months in the year it's a lake. Bad luck to the beavers that dammed it! I wish them all kilt for their pains; For shure though the craters are clever, Tis sartin they've drown'd my domains. I've built a log hut of the timber That grows on my charmin' estate ”

“ The scenery along the shores of the bay is exceedingly beautiful all the way from Kingston to the head, where a large river, the Trent, discharges itself into it at a thriving village, of about a thousand inhabitants, called Trent Port. A summer ride along the lower portion of this river presents scenery of a bolder and grander character than is often met with in Upper Canada, and it is enlivened by spectacles of immense rafts of timber descending the rapids, and by the merry chorus of the light-hearted lumbermen, as they pursue their toilsome and perilous voyage to Quebec. ”

“ The swampy margin of thy inland seas, The eternal forest girdling either shore, Its belt of dark pines sighing in the breeze, And rugged fields, with rude huts dotted o'er, Show cultivation unimproved by art, That sheds a barren chillness on the heart.
How many home-sick emigrants, during their first winter in Canada, will respond to this gloomy picture! Let them wait a few years; the sun of hope will arise and beautify the landscape, and they will proclaim the country one of the finest in the world. ”

“ Ah, what are thy feelings, whilst gazing on those, Who unconsciously smile in their balmy repose,— The pangs which thy grief-stricken bosom must prove Whilst gazing through tears on those pledges of love, Who murmur in slumber the dear, cherish'd name Of that sire who has cover'd his offspring with shame,— Of that husband whom justice has wrench'd from thy side Of the wretch, who the laws of his country defied? Poor, heart-broken mourner! thy tears faster flow, Time can bring no oblivion to banish thy woe; The sorrows of others are soften'd by years. ”

“ When things come to the worst, they generally mend. The males of our party no sooner arrived than they set about making things more comfortable. James, our servant, pulled up some of the decayed stumps, with which the small clearing that surrounded the shanty was thickly covered, and made a fire, and Hannah roused herself from the stupor of despair, and seized the corn-broom from the top of the loaded waggon, and began to sweep the house, raising such an intolerable cloud of dust that I was glad to throw my cloak over my head, and run out of doors, to avoid suffocation. ”

“ The Indian possesses great taste, which is displayed in the carving of his paddles, in the shape of his canoes, in the elegance and symmetry of his bows, in the cut of his leggings and moccasins, the sheath of his hunting-knife, and in all the little ornaments in which he delights. It is almost impossible for a settler to imitate to perfection an Indian's cherry-wood paddle. ”

“ What heinous crime had I committed, that I, who adored you, should be torn from your sacred bosom, to pine out my joyless existence in a foreign clime? Oh, that I might be permitted to return and die upon your wave-encircled shores, and rest my weary head and heart beneath your daisy-covered sod at last! Ah, these are vain outbursts of feeling—melancholy relapses of the spring home-sickness! Canada! thou art a noble, free, and rising country—the great fostering mother of the orphans of civilisation. ”

“ Emigration may, indeed, generally be regarded as an act of severe duty, performed at the expense of personal enjoyment, and accompanied by the sacrifice of those local attachments which stamp the scenes amid which our childhood grew, in imperishable characters, upon the heart. Nor is it until adversity has pressed sorely upon the proud and wounded spirit of the well-educated sons and daughters of old but impoverished families, that they gird up the loins of the mind, and arm themselves with fortitude to meet and dare the heart-breaking conflict. ”