Life In The Backwoods Part 8

In many parts of the United States, particularly in new districts where vegetables are scarce, it is used early in the spring, and boiled with pork as a subst.i.tute for cabbage. During our residence in the bush we found it, in the early part of May, a great addition to the dinner-table. In the towns.h.i.+p of Dummer, the settlers boil the tops, and add hops to the liquor, which they ferment, and from which they obtain excellent beer. I have never tasted this simple beverage, but I have been told by those who use it that it is equal to the table-beer used at home.

Necessity has truly been termed the mother of invention, for I contrived to manufacture a variety of dishes almost out of nothing, while living in her school. When entirely dest.i.tute of animal food, the different variety of squirrels supplied us with pies, stews, and roasts. Our barn stood at the top of the hill near the bush, and in a trap set for such "small deer," we often caught from ten to twelve a-day.

The flesh of the black squirrel is equal to that of the rabbit, and the red, and even the little chissmunk, is palatable when nicely cooked. But from the lake, during the summer, we derived the larger portion of our food. The children called this piece of water "Mamma's pantry," and many a good meal has the munificent Father given to his poor dependent children from its well-stored depths. Moodie and I used to rise by daybreak, and fish for an hour after sunrise, when we returned, he to the field, and I to dress the little ones, clean up the house, a.s.sist with the milk, and prepare the breakfast.

Oh, how I enjoyed these excursions on the lake! The very idea of our dinner depending upon our success, added double zest to our sport.

One morning we started as usual before sunrise; a thick mist still hung like a fine veil upon the water when we pushed off, and anch.o.r.ed at our accustomed place. Just as the sun rose, and the haze parted and drew up like a golden sheet of transparent gauze, through which the dark woods loomed out like giants, a n.o.ble buck dashed into the water, followed by four Indian hounds.

We then discovered a canoe, full of Indians, just below the rapids, and another not many yards from us, that had been concealed by the fog.

It was a n.o.ble sight, that gallant deer exerting all his energy, and stemming the water with such matchless grace, his branching horns held proudly aloft, his broad nostrils distended, and his fine eye fixed intently upon the opposite sh.o.r.e. Several rifle-b.a.l.l.s whizzed past him, the dogs followed hard upon his track, but my very heart leaped for joy when, in spite of all his foes, his glossy hoofs spurned the opposite bank and he plunged headlong into the forest.

My beloved partner was most skilful in trolling for ba.s.s and muskinonge.

His line he generally fastened to the paddle, and the motion of the oar gave a life-like vibration to the queer-looking mice and dragon-flies I used to manufacture from squirrel fur, or scarlet and white cloth, to tempt the finny wanderers of the wave.

When too busy himself to fish for our meals, little Katie and I ventured out alone in the canoe, which we anch.o.r.ed in any promising fis.h.i.+ng spot, by fastening a harrow tooth to a piece of rope, and letting it drop from the side of the little vessel. By the time she was five years old, my little mermaid could both steer and paddle the light vessel, and catch small fish, which were useful for soup.

During the winter of '36, we experienced many privations. The ruffian squatter P----, from Clear Lake, drove from the barn a fine young bull we were rearing, and for several weeks all trace of the animal was lost.

We had almost forgotten the existence of poor Whiskey, when a neighbour called and told Moodie that his yearling was at P----'s, and that he would advise him to get it back as soon as possible. Moodie had to take some wheat to Y----'s mill, and as the squatter lived only a mile further, he called at his house; and there, sure enough, he found the lost animal. With the greatest difficulty he succeeded in regaining his property, but not without many threats of vengeance from the parties who had stolen it. To these he paid no regard; but a few days after, six fat hogs, on which we depended for all our winter store of animal food, were driven into the lake, and destroyed. The death of these animals deprived us of three barrels of pork, and half starved us through the winter.

That winter of '36, how heavily it wore away! The grown flour, frosted potatoes, and scant quant.i.ty of animal food rendered us all weak, and the children suffered much from the ague.

One day, just before the snow fell, Moodie had gone to Peterborough for letters; our servant was sick in bed with the ague, and I was nursing my little boy, Dunbar, who was shaking with the cold fit of his miserable fever, when Jacob put his honest, round, rosy face in at the door.

"Give me the master's gun, ma'am; there's a big buck feeding on the rice-bed near the island."

I took down the gun, saying, "Jacob, you have no chance; there is but one charge of buck-shot in the house."

"One chance is better nor none," said Jacob, as he commenced loading the gun. "Who knows what may happen to oie. Mayhap oie may chance to kill 'un; and you and the measter and the wee bairns may have zummut zavory for zupper yet."

Away walked Jacob with Hoodie's "Manton" over his shoulder. A few minutes after, I heard the report of the gun, but never expected to see anything of the game; when Jacob suddenly bounced into the room, half wild with delight.

"Thae beast iz dead az a door-nail. Zure, how the measter will laugh when he zees the fine buck that oie a' zhot."

"And have you really shot him?"

"Come and zee! Tis worth your while to walk down to the landing to look at 'un."

Jacob got a rope, and I followed him to the landing, where, sure enough, lay a fine buck, fastened in tow of the canoe. Jacob soon secured him by the hind legs to the rope he had brought; and, with our united efforts, we at last succeeded in dragging our prize home. All the time he was engaged in taking off the skin, Jacob was antic.i.p.ating the feast that we were to have; and the good fellow chuckled with delight when he hung the carca.s.s quite close to the kitchen door, that his "measter" might run against it when he came home at night. This event actually took place.

When Moodie opened the door, he struck his head against the dead deer.

"What have you got here?"

"A fine buck, zur," said Jacob, bringing forward the light, and holding it up in such a manner that all the merits of the prize could be seen at a glance.

"A fine one, indeed! How did we come by it?"

"It was zhot by oie," said Jacob, rubbing his hands in a sort of ecstacy. "Thae beast iz the first oie ever zhot in my life. He! he! he!"

"You shot that fine deer, Jacob?--and there was only one charge in the gun! Well done; you must have taken a good aim."

"Why, zur, oie took no aim at all. Oie just pointed the gun at the deer, and zhut my oeys an let fly at 'un. 'Twas Providence kill'd 'un, not oie."

"I believe you," said Moodie; "Providence has. .h.i.therto watched over us and kept us from actual starvation."

The flesh of the deer, and the good broth that I was able to obtain from it, greatly a.s.sisted in restoring our sick to health; but long before that severe winter terminated we were again out of food. Mrs. ---- had given to Katie, in the fall, a very pretty little pig, which she had named Spot. The animal was a great favourite with Jacob and the children, and he always received his food from their hands at the door and followed them all over the place like a dog. We had a n.o.ble hound called Hector, between whom and the pet pig there existed the most tender friends.h.i.+p. Spot always shared with Hector the hollow log which served him for a kennel, and we often laughed to see Hector lead Spot round the clearing by his ear. After bearing the want of animal food until our souls sickened at the bad potatoes and grown flour bread, we began--that is the eldest of the family--to cast very hungry eyes upon Spot; but no one liked to propose having him killed. At last Jacob spoke his mind upon the subject.

"Oi've heard, zur, that the Jews never eat pork; but we Christians dooz, and are right glad ov the chance. Now, zur, oi've been thinking that'tis no manner ov use our keeping that beast Spot. If he wor a zow, now, there might be zome zenze in the thing; and we all feel weak for a morzel of meat. S'poze I kill him? He won't make a bad piece of pork."

Moodie seconded the move; and, in spite of the tears and prayers of Katie, her uncouth pet was sacrificed to the general wants of the family; but there were two members of the house who disdained to eat a morsel of the victim; poor Katie and the dog Hector. At the self-denial of the first I did not at all wonder, for she was a child full of sensibility and warm affections, but the attachment of the brute creature to his old playmate filled us all with surprise. Jacob first drew our attention to the strange fact.

"That dog," he said, as we were pa.s.sing through the kitchen while he was at dinner, "do teach uz Christians a lesson how to treat our friends.

Why, zur, he'll not eat a morzel of Spot. Oie have tried and tempted him in all manner ov ways, and he only do zneer and turn up his nose when oie hould him a bit to taste." He offered the animal a rib of the fresh pork as he finished speaking, and the dog turned away with an expression of aversion, and on a repet.i.tion of the act, walked from the table.

Human affection could scarcely have surpa.s.sed the love felt by this poor animal for his playfellow. His attachment to Spot, that could overcome the pangs of hunger--for, like the rest of us, he was half starved--must have been strong indeed.

Jacob's attachment to us, in its simplicity and fidelity, greatly resembled that of the dog; and sometimes, like the dog, he would push himself in where he was not wanted, and gratuitously give his advice, and make remarks which were not required.

Mr. K----, from Cork, was asking Moodie many questions about the partridges of the country; and, among other things, he wanted to know by what token you were able to discover their favourite haunts. Before Moodie could answer this last query a voice responded, through a large crack in the boarded wall which separated us from the kitchen, "They always bides where they's drum." This announcement was received with a burst of laughter that greatly disconcerted the natural philosopher in the kitchen.

On the 21st of May of this year, my second son, Donald, was born. The poor fellow came in hard times. The cows had not calved, and our bill of fare, now minus the deer and Spot, only consisted of bad potatoes and still worse bread. I was rendered so weak by want of proper nourishment that my dear husband, for my sake, overcame his aversion to borrowing, and procured a quarter of mutton from a friend. This, with kindly presents from neighbours--often as badly off as ourselves--a loin of a young bear, and a basket, containing a loaf of bread, some tea, some fresh b.u.t.ter, and oatmeal, went far to save my life.

Shortly after my recovery, Jacob--the faithful, good Jacob was obliged to leave us, for we could no longer afford to pay wages. What was owing to him had to be settled by sacrificing our best cow, and a great many valuable articles of clothing from my husband's wardrobe. Nothing is more distressing than being obliged to part with articles of dress which you know that you cannot replace. Almost all my clothes had been appropriated to the payment of wages, or to obtain garments for the children, excepting my wedding-dress, and the beautiful baby-linen which had been made by the hands of dear and affectionate friends for my first-born. These were now exchanged for coa.r.s.e, warm flannels, to s.h.i.+eld her from the cold. Moodie and Jacob had chopped eight acres during the winter, but these had to be burnt off and logged-up before we could put in a crop of wheat for the ensuing fall. Had we been able to retain this industrious, kindly English lad, this would have been soon accomplished; but his wages, at the rate of thirty pounds per annum, were now utterly beyond our means.

Jacob had formed an attachment to my pretty maid, Mary Pine, and before going to the Southern States, to join an uncle who resided in Louisville, an opulent tradesman, who had promised to teach him his business, Jacob thought it as well to declare himself. The declaration took place on a log of wood near the back door, and from my chamber window I could both hear and see the parties, without being myself observed. Mary was seated very demurely at one end of the log, twisting the strings of her checked ap.r.o.n, and the loving Jacob was busily whittling the other extremity of their rustic seat. There was a long silence. Mary stole a look at Jacob, and he heaved a tremendous sigh, something between a yawn and a groan. "Meary," he said, "I must go."

"I knew that afore," returned the girl.

"I had zummat to zay to you, Meary. Do you think you will miss oie?"

(looking very affectionately, and twitching nearer.)

"What put that into your head, Jacob?" This was said very demurely.

"Oie thowt, maybe, Meary, that your feelings might be zummat loike my own. I feel zore about the heart, Meary, and it's all com' of parting with you. Don't you feel queerish, too?"

"Can't say that I do, Jacob. I shall soon see you again," (pulling violently at her ap.r.o.n-string.)

"Meary, oi'm afeard you don't feel like oie."

"P'r'aps not--women can't feel like men. I'm sorry that you are going, Jacob, for you have been very kind and obliging, and I wish you well."

"Meary," cried Jacob, growing desperate at her coyness, and getting quite close up to her, "will you marry oie? Say yeez or noa."

This was coming close to the point. Mary drew farther from him, and turned her head away.

"Meary," said Jacob, seizing upon the hand that held the ap.r.o.n-string, "do you think you can better yoursel'? If not--why, oie'm your man. Now, do just turn about your head and answer oie."

The girl turned round, and gave him a quick, shy glance, then burst out into a simpering laugh.

"Meary, will you take oie?" (jogging her elbow.)