building up of this new nation, one which presented graver difficulties
than they had met even in the toil and stress of breaking the forest.
In the early days the social problem had not arisen; the settler had
been too busy to permit of its troubling him. He needed all his time
and strength to battle with this new land and compel her to give him
his due of bread and shelter. But now, the stern young stepmother was
yielding to those whom she recognised as worthy to be her sons, and was
rewarding them with wider pasture-lands and waving fields of grain.
Now the pioneer found time to draw breath and look about him. All
through the years of weary hardship, homesickness for the old land had
been heavy on his heart and his love for it had grown. And now, with
some time for sentiment and reflection, he found his thoughts turning
thither; old loves were re-awakened, old traditions revived, old
enmities fanned into flame. The still wild stretches of forest called
on all sides for wild, free action; the wind swept down over the Oro
hills, straight from the vast expanse of the Great Lakes, setting the
blood leaping for vigorous action. Little wonder, then, that in their
first days of leisure men should go a few steps farther back towards
the savage stage from which we are all such a short distance removed.
And little wonder, too, that the wiser ones trembled lest their new
land of promise, now so smiling, so prodigal of her favours, might be
scarred with the marks of evil.
And so, these simple seers, these men, ignorant in the world's wisdom,
but many of them secure in the knowledge of One, whom to know is life
eternal, turned in their fear and perplexity to the fountain-head of
righteousness.
"We must be having a prayer meeting, lads," said Praying Donald at
length. "We could be having them all this winter, once a week, and
maybe the good Lord will be sending us a minister."
"Eh, if we could get a meenister like auld Angus McGregor!" said Store
Thompson. "Ah jist heerd him once, but it was a veesitation, aye, jist
a veesitation, like. D'ye mind yon sermon, Lauchie, on 'Simon Peter,
lovest thou me'?"
Long Lauchie awoke from his reverie with a start. The mention of the
great Scottish preacher set going a train of tender memories. "Eh, Mr.
McGregor!" he cried, "Mr. McGregor,--eh, there will not be such men
nowadays I will be fearing. He was the man of God, indeed--yes--oh,
yes----"
And as he faded away into the distance, the others made the necessary
arrangements. They would hold a series of prayer meetings in the Oa
and the Glen to last during the winter. Store Thompson made a feeble
suggestion that they might join the Methodists, Tom Caldwell's faction
in the Flats. For Tom, who was as active at wrestling in prayer as in
any other sphere, in company with the population of the Tenth, had
secured the services of a primitive Methodist preacher, and was holding
nightly meetings in the schoolhouse, where much good was done. But the
noisy devotions of the Flats met with little favour in the sight of the
Oa. Praying Donald, conscious of the purity of their motive, had
visited the Methodists once, and had now little to say in commendation.
"They will be doing the best they know, James," he declared, "but the
Lord will be taking no pleasure in tumult and confusion, and we will
jist be holding our meetings at the neighbours' houses, whatever."
And so the first meeting was arranged to be held at Long Lauchie's,
and, before parting, the little group knelt about the boxes and bales,
and in low, solemn tones like the breaking of waves on a rocky shore,
Praying Donald besought the Eternal Father for a blessing on this new
land and an instilling of the righteousness that exalteth a nation.
The news of the meeting was spread through the community, chiefly by
Weaver Jimmie; and was received with much thankfulness by most of the
people, who had been longing all the days of their exile for something
resembling the church services of the old land.
When the night of the first meeting arrived, Scotty was in a state of
carefully subdued excitement. He knew by his grandfather's manner that
the occasion was one calling for solemnity of demeanour; but he could
not help feeling very much worked up over the thought of going away
from home after dark; it made one feel almost as big and important as
Callum. He could scarcely believe his senses when they covered the
fire, closed the door and all drove away in the big sleigh. Granny sat
on the front seat beside Grandaddy, another strange circumstance, for
Granny never went anywhere either by day or by night, except when a
neighbour was sick. Scotty further emphasised his grown-up feeling by
sitting behind with the boys; they conversed in low tones, and Callum
said he'd "a good mind to skedaddle off into the bush." But they were
unusually quiet. Rory even forbore to whistle, and the boy found he
had to amuse himself by peering into the silent blackness of the pine
forest, or gazing up at the strip of clear star-spangled heavens that
shone between the lines of trees.
Long Lauchie's house, which stood on a hill at the end of a very long
lane, was brightly lighted and very silent. This last fact was worthy
of note, for what with the misdemeanours of Long Lauchie's own sons,
and the assistance they received from Big Malcolm's boys, the place had
long been a rival of Pete Nash's establishment for noise, though,
happily, it was of a much more innocent character.
The room they entered, kitchen, dining-room and living-room, was
furnished, like all the pioneers' homes, with the plainest necessities;
but Long Lauchie's family had grown-up girls in it, and the place
showed the touch of their fingers; a few bright rugs on the floor, and
on the wall some pictures in homemade frames. Then there were some oil
lamps, replacing the candles, and the house was so far in the van of
progress as to possess a stove, which added not a little to the
comfort, and detracted much from the picturesqueness, of the room.
The family consisted of a troop of boys and girls, all ages and sizes,
from big, six-foot Hector to little tangle-haired Betty. They were
already gathered, and several of the neighbours' families had arrived
and were seated on the improvised benches along the wall. There were
Praying Donald's family, Store Thompson and his wife, several others
representative of the Oa and the Glen, and, of course, Weaver Jimmie.
Jimmie's face shone with soap and excitement, and his manner was a
series of embarrassed convulsions; for Kirsty John, the cruel object of
his hopeless love, was there. A fine, big, strapping young woman she
was, with a strong face, and a pair of fearless, black eyes. She sat
bolt upright against the log wall, talking to Mary Lauchie, a sweet,
pale-faced girl; and occasionally casting a withering glance in the
direction of the bench behind the stove, where the Weaver was
alternately striving to efface himself and to attract her attention.
Scotty soon managed to slip away from his grandmother, and join Betty
and Peter in a corner. He found them in the same state of subdued
excitement as he was himself. Peter informed him in a joyous whisper
that there was a big cheese in the cupboard, and a johnny cake and
blackberry preserves for the visitors, before they left. Scotty's
interest in this delightful disclosure did not prevent his noticing
Callum's entrance. Callum had gone with Hector to put up the team and
now came marching in, the object of many admiring glances.
He displayed none of Weaver Jimmie's diffidence; but went straight over
to where Mary Lauchie sat, and whispered in her ear, and Mary flushed
and smiled and her plain face grew quite pretty. Even Kirsty was
gracious to the handsome youth, and poor Jimmie nearly twisted his neck
out of joint in his jealous efforts to do something commendable in her
sight.
But all sounds were suddenly hushed, for Praying Donald was rising to
announce the first psalm:
"I waited for the Lord my God,
And patiently did bear,
At length to me He did incline
My voice and cry to hear."
His deep, rumbling voice had just completed the first few lines when he
was interrupted by a clatter of bells. The door swung suddenly open,
and, to the amazement of all the assembled Scots, in stalked Tom
Caldwell with his wife and family!
The appearance of the leader of Methodism in the stronghold of the
Presbyterians was naturally unexpected; but Tom Caldwell had been very
friendly with the MacDonalds since the day they "cleared the Glen of
Popery," as he said, and hearing that they were about to imitate the
Flats in having a season of prayer, had journeyed all the way to the
Oa, resolved to give the neighbours a helping hand in the good work,
and infuse a little life and fire into the dead bones of
Presbyterianism.
The leaders arose and shook hands with the newcomer solemnly, but
heartily; while Long Lauchie's wife and daughters welcomed the family.
"Sure, it's the right track ye're on, Donald!" cried Tom Caldwell
heartily, as he seated himself and gazed happily about him; "the Glen's
gettin' to be like Sodom, that's what it is, an' it's mesilf that
couldn't be lettin' the matin' pass widout comin' up an' givin' ye a
helpin' hand. We'll bring down a blessin', glory be; so let's jist
fire ahead an' have a rousin' time!"
The MacDonald brethren looked at each other rather aghast. Tom
Caldwell's fervour, though well-meant, was a foreign element, savouring
of irreverence and Methodistic confusion; but his hearty good will was
irresistible; Long Lauchie gave him the place of honour next to the
leader, and the meeting commenced.
Scotty scarcely heard the words of the psalm, for to his delight he
found that Nancy had come, too, and was there seated beside her mother.
In spite of the fact that Nancy was Irish and tainted with Orange
sentiments, Scotty had found it impossible to tear her from his heart.
He had long since made up his mind that when he grew big he would go to
see her instead of Betty in the evenings. He wondered what Callum
would think of her, and glanced up to see that young man staring with
all his might at the subject of his thoughts. Nancy was certainly
worth a stare; in spite of the fact that she was still at school, she
was quite one of the young ladies of the Flats, and when occasion
demanded could deport herself quite becoming the name. Her black,
curly hair was tied up with a scarlet ribbon that matched her cheeks,
her eyes were Irish blue, limpid and dancing, and she had a dimple in
the centre of her saucy chin.
Seeing Callum so absorbed, Scotty slid softly up to him. "That's
Nancy!" he whispered proudly.
"Is it?" said Callum, with an air of surprise. "Where?"
"Why, there beside Granny, where you're lookin'. Ain't she pretty?"
"Oh, I guess so." Callum showed an indifference that greatly
disappointed his nephew. Probably, though, he considered, Callum would
not think of admiring an Irish girl.
At that moment the girl raised her eyes and glanced in their direction.
She encountered Scotty's eager gaze, and returned it with a brilliant,
laughing glance; then her eyes met Callum's and she instantly turned
away with a coquettish toss of her head. Scotty felt she surely might
have smiled at Callum, too. He glanced up at the young man again and
was rather troubled. He was sure Callum must be very angry at either
him or Nancy, for he had never seen his face get red like that unless
he were in a rage.
But, meantime, Praying Donald had finished the interrupted psalm and
Roarin' Sandy had started the tune. The elder men caught it up, then
the women, and lastly the young men about the stove, and the song
swelled out slow and solemn, the deep, full-chested notes rolling out
into the winter night where the glittering stars and the solemn, silent
forest seemed to give back in grand reverberations the words:
"He put a new song in my mouth
Our God to magnify!"
In the hush that followed, Praying Donald read a chapter from the Holy
Word, read it in tones that arrested the most careless listener, and
even Scotty felt a little tingle go over him at the yearning words:
"As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after
thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God."
And then they all knelt in prayer, old and young, serious and careless;
all bowed before the God for whom their souls, whether they realised it
or not, panted as the hart for the cooling streams.
The prayers were all the heartfelt repetition of the sentiment
expressed in the psalm. These pioneers were children in a strange
land, surrounded by new conditions, and in their wise simplicity went
as children to a father for what they most needed. After Praying
Donald came Big Malcolm, then Store Thompson, and Roarin' Sandy, and
then the leader called upon Tom Caldwell. Tom Caldwell's big Irish
heart was overflowing with good-will to his Scottish neighbours; and
carried away by his emotions, he prayed long and loud and shouted
hallelujahs in a manner that rather alarmed the company. Indeed, Store
Thompson's wife, who was considered quite a genteel person in the
community, declared afterwards that "it jist garred her ears tingle,"
and Store Thompson himself, though never given to censure anyone,
admitted that though Tom certainly had a fine gift of prayer, he was,
"jist a wee thing tumultuous-like."
The meeting had been very solemn and the youngest person there very
well-behaved during the earlier prayers, but after Tom Caldwell came
the host of the evening, and the young men began to grow restless. For
Long Lauchie was never so long as when at his devotions. Indeed, for
years it had been the scandal of the Oa that his sons were in the habit
of slipping out during family worship to attend to the "chores" about
the stable, returning to appear decorously upon their knees when their
father arose.
At Callum Fiach's suggestion the "Lauchie boys" even arranged a
competition in which the five sons strove to see who could make the
longest excursion during prayer-time. The palm was yielded to Hughie,
the third son, who crossed the swamp on skis one evening, and saw
Kirsty John chase the Weaver from her door with the porridge stick,
arriving home, breathless but triumphant, just before the amen was
pronounced. No one quite believed Hughie's story, until it was
ruefully corroborated by Jimmie himself; whereupon the limit was
declared to be reached, and the boys turned their attention to new
fields.
But on this first prayer-meeting night, spurred on by the enthusiasm of
the company, Long Lauchie bade fair to give his sons ample opportunity
to journey through the length and breadth of the township of Oro and
return before he was finished. The pious old man had a fine poetic
temperament, and to-night he soared beyond anything his family had ever
heard. The petition ramified and expanded to an alarming length, and
still showed no signs of stopping. Even Mrs. Lauchie, whose chief
pride was her husband's devotional fluency, was somewhat concerned.
There was a restless movement among the young men about the stove.
Scotty twisted and squirmed and tried in vain to be still. It was very
wicked to open one's eyes during prayer, he knew. Roarin' Sandy's
Johnny had told him that if he did he might see the Deil standing
behind him. And since then Scotty had been divided between dread of
the awful apparition and a natural desire to see what his Satanic
Majesty looked like. He was ashamed of his restlessness, for Callum
was kneeling beside him motionless. Callum would think him a baby if
he moved. He peeped cautiously through his fingers at his uncle.
Callum was kneeling at the bench, absolutely still, indeed, but with
his eyes wide open and staring straight at the black, curly head of Tom
Caldwell's daughter.
Scotty felt that if it were not very wicked, he would like to
straighten up like that and stare at somebody, too. It looked so big
and manly. Mastering his fears, he turned cautiously in the direction
of Betty, but Betty had slipped to the floor with her tousled yellow
head on the bench, and was sound asleep. Scotty closed his eyes again,
the droning voice of Long Lauchie floated farther and farther away, he
felt himself going, too, somewhere, into immeasurable space, until at
last he dropped into the gulf of oblivion. He half woke to find Granny
tying a muffler round his neck. He made an ineffectual effort to stop
her, for she was saying, "Eh, eh, Granny's poor, wee, sleepy lamb," and
he dreaded lest Peter should hear her; only Peter, like all the other
people, seemed an immeasurable distance away. Someone else was bending
over him, too, and saying, "And you'll be sure to let him come, then?"
"But I'm afraid he would jist be a trouble to yer mother, Kirsty,"
Granny answered.
"Tuts, not a bit!" was the reply. "Mother'll jist be glad o' him, an'
the wee Isabel would be lonely. Ah'm glad she's comin', for mother's
jist wearin' to see her again, an' Miss Herbert's sick, poor lady.".
"Oh, well, indeed he can go, Kirsty, an' I hope he will not be rough
with the little lady."
"Not him." Scotty felt a strong, rough hand pass gently over his
curls. "When she comes Ah'll send ye word by yon loon o' a weaver.
It'll give him somethin' to do, an' the buddie's jist fair in want for
a job."
"Ah, Kirsty, Kirsty!" whispered Granny, "it's too hard ye'll be on poor
Jimmie. Take my advice an' marry him, he'll be a good man to you,
indeed! There's the sleigh. Come, Hamish, lad, take the lamb out, he
will be jist dead asleep, whatever."
As Scotty passed out like a sack of potatoes on Hamish's shoulder, the
rush of clear, cold air partly revived him. He cuddled under the
blanket close to Granny, and dimly heard the good-nights as each
sleigh-load moved down the long lane, not gaily spoken as when the
neighbours came in for an evening, but low and subdued, for all were
under the spell of the season of prayer. He heard Granny say, "Where's
Callum? Don't be leaving the lad," and a voice answered, "He's yonder
helpin' Tom Caldwell to hitch," and then Callum sprang in, and the
sleigh creaked slowly forward, and Scotty slid away once more down the
dim road of dreamland.
VI
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK
Into the dim woods full of the tombs
Of the dead trees soft in their sepulchres,
Where the pensive throats of the shy birds hidden
Pipe to us strangely entering unbidden,
And tenderly still in the tremulous glooms
The trilliums scatter their white-winged stars.
--ABCHIBALD LAMPMAN.
Winter passed, and then came the spring, with its fresh, warm winds
coming up from Lake Simcoe and sweeping away the ice and snow in a mad,
joyous rush of water.
Scotty went barefoot just as soon as there was enough bare ground to
step upon. He seemed for a time to cast aside all restraint with his
shoes and stockings, and when not in school lived a freebooter's life
in the forest.
He and Bruce spent much time wandering, plundering and exploring from
the edge of the corduroy road where the musk and marigolds and
fleur-de-lis grew in glorious profusion all through the green and
golden depths to where the River Oro slipped from its sweet enthralment
of reeds and water lilies to go bounding away down the valley to Lake
Simcoe. The whole place was a plantation of treasures and teemed with
sounds of life: the blue-jay, the song-sparrow, the robin, the noisy,
red-winged black-bird, the plaintive pee-wee, the far-off,
clear-ringing whitethroat, the jolly woodpecker, the noisy squirrel,
and the shy raccoon--Scotty knew them all intimately, learned their
ways and lived their life.
He was given to much idle roaming through the swamp, on the way to and
from school, too, and when he went to bring home the cows he remained
longer than even Granny could excuse. For that simple task should have
been performed in a very short time. He could trace the cattle through
the woods with the sure instinct of a sleuth-hound, could distinguish
Spotty's tracks from Cherry's, and might have found his own little
heifer's in the midst of the public highway. But his skill did not
help to make him any more expeditious, for he often forgot his errand
and would lie full length upon the ground, gazing up into the restless,
swishing, green sea above, and dreaming wonderful dreams. Callum
declared he was a lazy little beggar and ought to be cowhided to make
him move, though where one could be found to perform that necessary
operation the MacDonald family were not prepared to say.
That he did not altogether develop into a little savage was entirely
due to Granny's tender care. Nowhere was the influence of her
beautiful character felt so strongly as by the little grandson. She,
who could command her grown-up sons by her mere presence, and who was
slowly but surely transforming Big Malcolm's wild nature, was quietly
moulding the boy's character. Scotty early learned the great lessons
of life, the lessons of truth and right, and was well grounded in the
knowledge of the things that are eternal. He could read the Bible
before he ever entered school, and could repeat the Shorter Catechism
with a rapidity that sometimes alarmed Granny, as savouring of
irreverence. He learned a verse of Scripture by heart every evening of
his life, and the Sabbath was a grand review day.
Sunday was always a red-letter day in Scotty's life, for he generally
had Granny to himself. Not that the others were away; for Big Malcolm,
who generally ruled his household rather laxly, sternly forbade Sabbath
visiting. But the boys wandered off to the barn or the woods after
morning prayers, and Big Malcolm dozed, or smoked, or read his Bible.
And then Granny and her boy would climb the little hillock beside the
house and sit under the Silver Maple. This was a fine position, for
one could see Lake Oro, stretched out there blue and sparkling in its
ring of forest, and far away to the south, a glittering string of
diamonds and turquoise where Lake Simcoe lay smiling in the sun, and
now and then, where a clearing opened the view, the blue flash of the
river. And there, with the soft rustle of the green and silver canopy
above, and around the scent of the clover and the basswood blossoms,
Scotty lay with his head in Granny's lap and heard wonderful stories of
One who sat on a hill and spoke to the multitude as never man yet
spake. And never afterwards, though he sometimes wandered from
Granny's teachings, did those Sabbath days lose their hold upon his
life.
And so the spring slipped into summer, and one evening a new element
came into his life. He was lying on the doorstone, his feet in the
cool, dewy grass, dreamily watching the fireflies sparkling away down
in the pasture by the woods, and listening to the hoarse cry of the
night hawks as they swooped overhead. It was a warm evening, and the
leaves of the Silver Maple, still touched by the hot glow of the
sunset, hung motionless in the still air.
Rory came out with his fiddle, and, sitting with his chair tilted
against the house, droned out a low, sweet, yearning song for Bonny
Prince Charlie who would return no more, no more. Grandaddy sat near
on a bench smoking contentedly. Since the day of the first prayer
meeting at Long Lauchie's, Big Malcolm had lived a life of peace, and
had once more regained his attitude of happy, kind complacency. Old
Farquhar was gone; he had disappeared when the Silver Maple was putting
forth its buds, and had gone "a kiltin' owre the brae," as he musically
expressed it to Scotty; but everyone knew that he would come back in
the autumn as surely as the wild ducks went south. Indoors, close to
the candle, sat Hamish poring over "Waverley," and Callum could be
heard tramping about in the loft, preparing to go off for the evening.
Callum took great pains with his toilette these evenings, Scotty
noticed, though the boys did not tease him any more about going to see
Mary Lauchie; indeed, there were no more good-natured allusions to his
courtship. Instead, Scotty had overheard Rory tell Callum, in the barn
one day, that "he'd go sparkin' old Teenie McCuaig, though she was
seventy and hadn't a tooth in her head, before he'd be seen going down
to the Flats to see an Irish girl." And Callum had seized him by the
shoulders and flattened him up against the wall until he roared for
mercy. There was always something in the home atmosphere when Callum
started off of an evening now that vaguely reminded Scotty of those
terrible days following Grandaddy's fight in the Glen. He felt
anxiously that his hero was doing something of which his family
disapproved, and wondered fearfully what it might be.
His mind was turned from the contemplation of these difficulties by a
sudden change in Rory's tune. He stopped in the midst of his low,
wailing dirge and struck up loudly the lively air that told again and
again of the mirth produced when "Jinny banged the Weaver." Scotty
raised his head and looked across the pasture-field. That tune always
ushered Weaver Jimmy upon the stage, and there he was, coming over the
field, easily recognisable by his huge feet. Before he reached them,
the MacDonalds could see that his face was shining with unusual joy.
"Come away, Jimmie, man," called Big Malcolm, "it will be a warm night,
whatever."
But the Weaver was too happy to notice anything wrong with the weather.
"Hoots, it will be a fine night for all that, a fine night; and how
will you be yourself, Mrs. MacDonald?"
"Perhaps you'll find it chilly enough if you go round by Kirsty's,
Jimmie," suggested Rory.