"Oh, fie, Rosie! not to know these places are all beyond the limits of
Canada!--such ignorance!"
"They are in the Queen's dominions, though, and Mr Snow wants to see
all that is worth seeing on British soil."
"Well, I guess we can make out a full day's work in Canada, can't we?
It is best to take it moderate," said Mr Snow, smiling benignly on
Rose. He was tolerant of the young lady's petulance, and not so ready
to excite it as he used to be in the old times, and generally listened
to her little sallies with a deprecating smile, amusing to see.
He was changed in other respects as well. Indeed, it must be confessed
that just at first Arthur was a little disappointed in him. He had only
a slight personal acquaintance with him, but he had heard so much of him
from the others that he had looked forward with interest to making the
acquaintance of the "sharp Yankee deacon." For Harry had a good story
about "Uncle Sampson" ready for all occasions, and there was no end to
the shrewd remarks and scraps of worldly wisdom that he used to quote
from his lips. But Harry's acquaintance had been confined to the first
years of their Merleville life, and Mr Snow had changed much since
then. He saw all things in a new light. Wisdom and folly had changed
their aspect to him. The charity which "believeth and hopeth all
things," and which "thinketh no evil," lived within him now, and made
him slow to see, and slower still to comment upon the faults and foibles
of others with the sharpness that used to excite the mirth of the lads
long ago. Not that he had forgotten how to criticise, and that severely
too, whatever he thought deserved it, or would be the better for it, as
Will had good reason to know before he had done much in the way of
"showing him Canada," but he far more frequently surprised them all by
his gentle tolerance towards what might be displeasing to him, and by
his quick appreciation of whatever was admirable in all he saw.
The first few days of sightseeing were passed in the city and its
environs. With the town itself he was greatly pleased. The great grey
stone structures suited him well, suggesting, as they often do to the
people accustomed to houses of brick or wood, ideas of strength and
permanence. But as he was usually content with an outside view of the
buildings, with such a view as could be obtained by a slow drive through
the streets, the town itself did not occupy him long. Then came the
wharves and ships; then they visited the manufactories and workshops,
lately become so numerous in the neighbourhood of the canal. All these
pleased and interested him greatly, but he never failed, when
opportunity offered, to point out various particulars, in which he
considered the Montrealers "a _leetle_ behind the times." On the whole,
however, his appreciation of British energy and enterprise was admiring
and sincere, and as warmly expressed as could be expected under the
circumstances.
"You've got a river, at any rate, that about comes up to one's ideas of
what a river ought to be--broad and deep and full," he said to Arthur
one day. "It kind of satisfies one to stand and look at it, so grand
and powerful, and still always rolling on to the sea."
"Yes, it is like your Father of Waters," said Arthur, a little surprised
at his tone and manner.
"One wouldn't be apt to think of mills and engines and such things at
the first glimpse of that. I didn't see it the day when I crossed it,
for the mist and rain. To-day, as we stood looking down upon it, I
couldn't but think how it had been rolling on and on there, ever since
creation, I suppose, or ever since the time of Adam and Eve--if the date
ain't the same, as some folks seem to think."
"I always think how wonderful it must have seemed to Jacques Cartier and
his men, as they sailed on and on, with the never-ending forest on
either shore," said Rose. "No wonder they thought it would never end,
till it bore them to the China seas."
"A wonderful highway of nations it is, though it disappointed them in
that," said Arthur. "The sad pity is, that it is not available for
commerce for more than two-thirds of the year."
"If ever the bridge they talk about should be built, it will do
something towards making this a place of importance in this part of the
world, though the long winter is against, too."
"Oh! the bridge will be built, I suppose, and the benefit will not be
confined to us. The Western trade will be benefited as well. What do
you think of your Massachusetts men, getting their cotton round this
way? This communication with the more northern cotton growing States is
more direct by this than any other way."
"Well, I ain't prepared to say much about it. Some folks wouldn't think
much of that. But I suppose you are bound to go ahead, anyhow."
But to the experienced eye of the farmer, nothing gave so much pleasure
as the cultivated country lying around the city, and beyond the
mountain, as far as the eye could reach. Of the mountain itself, he was
a little contemptuous in its character of mountain.
"A mountain with smooth fields, and even orchards, reaching almost to
the top of it! Why, our sheep pasture at Merleville is a deal more like
a mountain than that. It is only a hill, and moderate at that. You
must have been dreadful hard up for mountains, to call _that_ one.
You've forgotten all about Merleville, Rosie, to be content with that
for a mountain."
While, he admired the farms, he did not hesitate to comment severely on
the want of enterprise shown by the farmers, who seemed to be content
"to putter along" as their fathers had done, with little desire to avail
themselves of the many inventions and discoveries which modern science
and art had placed at the disposal of the farmer. In Merleville, every
man who owned ten, or even five acres of level land, had an interest in
sowing and mowing machines, to say nothing of other improvements, that
could be made available on hill or meadow. If the strength and patience
so freely expended among the stony New England hills, could but be
applied to the fertile valley of the Saint Lawrence, what a garden it
might become! And the Yankee farmer grew a little contemptuous of the
contented acquiescence of Canadians to the order of affairs established
by their fathers.
One afternoon he and Will went together to the top of the mountain
toward the western end. They had a fair day for a fair sight, and when
Mr Snow looked down on the scene, bounded by the blue hills beyond both
rivers, all other thoughts gave place to feelings of wondering
admiration. Above was a sky, whose tender blue was made more lovely by
the snowy clouds that sailed now and then majestically across it, to
break into flakes of silver near the far horizon.
Beneath lay the valley, clothed in the numberless shades of verdure with
which June loves to deck the earth in this northern climate. There were
no waste places, no wilderness, no arid stretches of sand or stone. Far
as the eye could reach, extended fields, and groves, and gardens,
scattered through with clusters of cottages, or solitary farm-houses.
Up through the stillness of the summer air, came stealing the faint
sound of a distant bell, seeming to deepen the silence round them.
"I suppose the land that Moses saw from Pisgah, must have been like
this," said Mr Snow, as he gazed.
"Yes, the Promised Land was a land of hills, and valleys, and brooks of
water," said Will softly, never moving his eyes from the wonderful
picture. Could they ever gaze enough? Could they ever weary themselves
of the sight? The shadows grew long; the clouds, that had made the
beauty of the summer sky, followed each other toward the west, and rose
in pinnacles of gold, and amber, and amethyst; and then they rose to go.
"I wouldn't have missed _that_ now, for considerable," said Mr Snow,
coming back with an effort to the realisation of the fact that this was
part of the sightseeing that he had set himself. "No, I wouldn't have
missed it for considerable more than that miserable team'll cost," added
he, as he came in sight of the carriage, on whose uncomfortable seat the
drowsy driver had been slumbering all the afternoon. Will smiled, and
made no answer. He was not a vain lad, but it is just possible that
there passed through his mind a doubt whether the enjoyment of his
friend had been as real, as high, or as intense, as his had been all the
afternoon. To Will's imagination, the valley lay in the gloom of its
primeval forests, peopled by heroes of a race now passed away. He was
one of them. He fought in their battles, triumphed in their victories,
panted in the eagerness of the chase. In imagination, he saw the forest
fall under the peaceful weapons of the pale face; then wondered westward
to die the dreary death of the last of a stricken race. Then his
thoughts come down to the present, and on into the future, in a vague
dream, which was half a prayer, for the hastening of the time when the
lovely valley should smile in moral and spiritual beauty too. And
coming back to actual life, with an effort--a sense of pain, he said to
himself, that the enjoyment of his friend had been not so high and pure
as his.
But Will was mistaken. In the thoughts of his friend, that summer
afternoon, patent machines, remunerative labour, plans of supply and
demand, of profit and loss, found no place. He passed the pleasant hour
on that green hill-side, seeing in that lovely valley, stretched out
before them, a very land of Beulah. Looking over the blue line of the
Ottawa, as over the river of Death, into a land visible and clear to the
eye of faith, he saw sights, and heard sounds, and enjoyed communion,
which, as yet, lay far in the future, as to the experience of the lad by
his side; and coming back to actual life, gave no sign of the Divine
Companionship, save that which afterward, was to be seen in a life,
growing liker every day to the Divine Exemplar.
Will thought, as they went home together, that a new light beamed, now
and then, over the keen but kindly face, and that the grave eyes of his
friend had the look of one who saw something beyond the beauty of the
pleasant fields, growing dim now in the gathering darkness; and the
lad's heart grew full and tender as it dawned upon him, how this was a
token of the shining of God's face upon his servant, and he longed for a
glimpse of that which his friend's eyes saw. A word might have won for
him a glimpse of the happiness; but Will was shy, and the word was not
spoken; and, all unconscious of his longing, his friend sat with the
smile on his lips, and the light in his eye, no thought further from him
than that any experience of his should be of value to another. And so
they fell quite into silence, till they neared the streets where the
lighted lamps were burning dim in the fading daylight.
That night, in the course of his wanderings up and down, Mr Snow,
paused, as he often did, before a portrait of the minister. It was a
portrait taken when the minister had been a much younger man than Mr
Snow had ever known him. It had belonged to a friend in Scotland, and
had been sent to Arthur, at his death, about a year ago. The likeness
had been striking, and to Janet, the sight of it had been a great
pleasure and surprise. She was never weary of looking at it, and even
Mr Snow, who had never known the minister but as a grey-haired man, was
strangely fascinated by the beauty of the grave smile that he remembered
so well on his face. That night he stood leaning on the back of a
chair, and gazing at it, while the conversation flowed on as usual
around him. In a little, Rose came and stood beside him.
"Do you think it is very like him?" asked she.
"Well," said Mr Snow, meditatively, "it's like him and it ain't like
him. I love to look at it, anyhow."
"At first it puzzled me," said Rose. "It seemed like the picture of
some one I had seen in a dream; and when I shut my eyes, and tried to
bring back my father's face as it used to be in Merleville, it would not
come--the face of the dream came between."
"Well, there is something in that," said Mr Snow, and he paused a
moment, and shut his eyes, as if to call back the face of his friend.
"No, it won't do that for me. It would take something I hain't thought
of yet, to make me forget his face."
"It does not trouble me now," said Rose. "I can shut my eyes, and see
him, Oh! so plainly, in the church, and at home in the study, and out
under the trees, and as he lay in his coffin--" She was smiling still,
but the tears were ready to gush over her eyes. Mr Snow turned, and
laying his hand on her bright head, said softly,--
"Yes, dear, and so can I, If we didn't know that it must be right, we
might wonder why he was taken from us. But I shall never forget him--
never. He did too much for me, for that. He was the best friend I ever
had, by all odds--the very best."
Rose smiled through her tears.
"He brought you Mrs Snow," said she, softly.
"Yes, dear. That was much, but he did more than that. It was through
him that I made the acquaintance of a better and dearer friend than even
_she_ is--and that is saying considerable," added he, turning his eyes
toward the tranquil figure knitting in the arm-chair.
"Were you speaking?" said Mrs Snow, looking up at the sound of his
voice.
"Yes, I was speaking to Rosie, here. How do you suppose we can ever
persuade her to go back to Merleville with us?"
"She is going with us, or she will soon follow us. What would Emily
say, if she didna come?"
"Yes, I know. But I meant to stay for good and all. Graeme, won't you
give us this little girl?"
Graeme smiled.
"Yes. On one condition--if you will take me too."
Mr Snow shook his head.
"I am afraid that would bring us no nearer the end. We should have
other conditions to add to that one."
"Yes," said Arthur, laughing. "You would have to take Fanny and me, as
well, in that case. I don't object to your having one of them at a
time, now and then, but both of them--that would never do."
"But it must be both or neither," said Graeme, eagerly, "I couldna'
trust Rosie away from me. I havena these sixteen years--her whole life,
have I, Janet? If you want Rosie, you must have me, too."
She spoke lightly, but earnestly; she meant what she said. Indeed, so
earnest was she, that she quite flushed up, and the tears were not far
away. The others saw it, and were silent, but Fanny who was not quick
at seeing things, said,--
"But what could we do without you both? That would not be fair--"
"Oh! you would have Arthur, and Arthur would have you. At any rate,
Rosie is mine, and I am not going to give her to any one who won't have
me, too. She is all I shall have left when Will goes away."
"Graeme would not trust Rosie with Arthur and me," said Fanny, a little
pettishly. "There are so many things that Graeme don't approve of. She
thinks we would spoil Rose."
Janet's hand touched hers, whether by accident or design Graeme did not
know, but it had the effect of checking the response that rose to her
lips, and she only said, laughingly,--
"Mrs Snow thinks that you and Arthur are spoiling us both, Fanny."
Janet smiled fondly and gravely at the sisters, as she said, stroking
Graeme's bowed head,--
"I dare say you are no' past spoiling, either of you, but I have seen
worse bairns."
After this, Mr Snow and Will began the survey of Canada in earnest.
First they went to Quebec, where they lingered several days. Then they
went farther down the river, and up the Saguenay, into the very heart of
the wilderness. This part of the trip Will enjoyed more than his
friend, but Mr Snow showed no sign of impatience, and prolonged their
stay for his sake. Then they went up the country, visiting the chief
towns and places of interest. They did not confine themselves, however,
to the usual route of travellers, but went here and there in wagons and
stages, through a farming country, in which, though Mr Snow saw much to
criticise, he saw more to admire. They shared the hospitality of many a
quiet farm-house, as freely as it was offered, and enjoyed many a
pleasant conversation with the farmers and their families, seated on
door-steps, or by the kitchen-fire.
Though the hospitality of the country people was, as a general thing,
fully and freely offered, it was sometimes, it must be confessed, not
without a certain reserve. That a "live Yankee," cute, and able-bodied,
should be going about in these out-of-the-way parts, for the sole
purpose of satisfying himself as to the features, resources, and
inhabitants of the country, was a circumstance so rare, so unheard of,
indeed, in these parts, that the shrewd country people did not like to
commit themselves at the first glance. Will's frank, handsome face, and
simple, kindly manners, won him speedily enough the confidence of all,
and Mr Snow's kindly advances were seldom long withstood. But there
sometimes lingered an uneasy feeling, not to say suspicion, that when he
had succeeded in winning their confidence, he would turn round and make
some startling demand on their faith or their purses in behalf of some
patent medicine or new invention--perhaps one of those wonderful
labour-saving machines, of which he had so much to say. As for himself,
if he ever observed their reserve or its cause, he never resented it, or
commented upon it, but entered at once into the discussion of all
possible subjects with the zest of a man determined to make the most of
the pleasant circumstances in which he found himself. If he did not
always agree with the opinions expressed, or approve of the modes of
farming pursued, he at least found that the sturdy farmers of Glengarry
and the country beyond had more to say for their opinions and practice
than "so had their fathers said and done before them," and their
discussions ended, quite as frequently as otherwise, in the American
frankly confessing himself convinced that all the agricultural wisdom on
the continent did not lie on the south side of the line forty-five.
Will was greatly amused and interested by all this. He was, to a
certain extent, able to look at the ideas, opinions, and prejudices of
each from the other's point of view, and so to enjoy with double zest
the discussion of subjects which could not fail to present such
dissimilar aspects to minds so differently constituted, and developed
under circumstances and influences so different. This power helped him
to make the opinions of each more clear to the other, presenting to both
juster notions of each other's theory and practice than their own
explanations could have done. By this means, too, he won for himself a
reputation for wisdom, about matters and things in general, which
surprised no one so much as himself. They would have liked to linger
far longer, over this part of their trip, than they had time to do, for
the days were hastening.
Before returning home, they visited Niagara, that wonderful work of God,
too great and grand, as Mr Snow told Rosie, to be the pride of one
nation exclusively, and so it had been placed on the borders of the two
greatest nations in the world. This part of the trip was for Will's
sake. Mr Snow had visited them on his way West many years ago.
Indeed, there were other parts of the trip made for Will's benefit, but
those were not the parts which Mr Snow enjoyed least, as he said to his
wife afterwards.
"It paid well. I had my own share of the pleasure, and Will's, too. If
ever a lad enjoyed a holiday he enjoyed his. It was worth going, just
to see his pleasure."
When the time allotted to their visit was drawing to a close, it was
proposed that a few days should be passed in that most beautiful part of
Canada, known as the Eastern Townships. Arthur went with them there.
It was but a glimpse they could give it. Passing in through Missisquoi
County to the head of the lovely lake Memphremagog, they spent a few
days on it, and along its shores. Their return was by a circuitous
course across the country through the County of Stanstead, in the midst
of beautiful scenery, and what Mr Snow declared to be "as fine a
farming country as anybody need wish to see."
This "seeing Canada" was a more serious matter than he had at first
supposed, Mr Snow acknowledged to the delighted Rose. It could not be
done justice to in a few days, he said; but he would try and reconcile
himself to the hastiness of his trip, by taking it for granted that the
parts he had not seen were pretty much like those he had gone through,
and a very fine country it was.
"Canada will be heard from yet, I expect," said he, one night when they
had returned home. "By the time that you get some things done that you
mean to now, you'll be ready to go ahead. I don't see but you have as
good a chance as ever we had--better, even. You have got the same
elements of prosperity and success. You have got the Bible and a free
press, and a fair proportion of good soil, and any amount of
water-power. Then for inhabitants, you've got the Scotchman, cautious
and far-seeing; the Irishman, a little hot and heady, perhaps, but
earnest; you've got the Englishman, who'll never fail of his aim for
want of self-confidence, anyhow; you've got Frenchmen, Germans, and a
sprinkling of the dark element out west; and you've got what we didn't
have to begin with, you've got the Yankee element, and that is
considerable more than you seem to think it is, Rosie."
Rose laughed and shook her head. She was not going to allow herself to
be drawn into a discussion of nationalities that night.
"Yes," continued he, "the real live Yankee is about as complete a man as
you'll generally meet anywhere. He has the caution of the Scot, to
temper the fire of the Irishman, and he has about as good an opinion of
himself as the Englishman has. He'll keep things going among you.
He'll bring you up to the times, and then he won't be likely to let you
fall back again. Yes; if ever Canada is heard from, the Yankee will
have something to do with it, and no mistake."