The whole drive would have been productive of unmixed enjoyment, but for
one almost intolerable drawback. The roads were throughout so execrably
bad, that no words can give you an idea of them. We often sank into
mud-holes above the axletree; then, over trunks of trees laid across
swamps, called here corduroy roads, were my poor bones dislocated. A
wheel here and there, or broken shaft lying by the way-side, told of
former wrecks and disasters. In some places they had, in desperation,
flung huge boughs of oak into the mud abyss, and covered them with clay
and sod, the rich green foliage projecting on either side. This sort of
illusive contrivance would sometimes give way, and we were nearly
precipitated into the midst. By the time we arrived at Blandford, my
hands were swelled and blistered by continually grasping with all my
strength an iron bar in front of my vehicle, to prevent myself from
being flung out, and my limbs ached wofully. I never beheld or imagined
such roads. It is clear that the people do not apply any, even the
commonest, principles of roadmaking; no drains are cut, no attempt is
made at levelling or preparing a foundation. The settlers around are too
much engrossed by the necessary toil for a daily subsistence to give a
moment of their time to road-making, without compulsion or good payment.
The statute labour does not appear to be duly enforced by the
commissioners and magistrates, and there are no labourers, and no spare
money: specie, never very plentiful in these parts, is not to be had at
present, and the 500,000_l_. voted during the last session of the
provincial parliament for the repair of the roads is not yet even
raised, I believe.
Nor is this all: the vile state of the roads, the very little
communication between places not far distant from each other, leave it
in the power of ill-disposed persons to sow mischief among the ignorant,
isolated people.
On emerging from a forest road seven miles in length, we stopped at a
little inn to refresh the poor jaded horses. Several labourers were
lounging about the door, and I spoke to them of the horrible state of
the roads. They agreed, one and all, that it was entirely the fault of
the Government; that their welfare was not cared for; that it was true
that money had been voted for the roads, but that before anything could
be done, or a shilling of it expended, it was always necessary to write
to the old country to ask the king's permission--which might be sent or
not--who could tell? And meantime they were ruined for want of roads,
which it was nobody's business to reclaim.
It was in vain that I attempted to point out to the orator of the party
the falsehood and absurdity of this notion. He only shook his head, and
said he knew better.
One man observed, that as the team of Admiral Vansittart (one of the
largest proprietors in the district) had lately broken down in a
mud-hole, there was some hope that the roads about here might be looked
to.
About sunset I arrived at Blandford, dreadfully weary, and fevered, and
bruised, having been more than nine hours travelling twenty-five miles;
and I must needs own that not all my _savoir faire_ could prevent me
from feeling rather dejected and shy, as I drove up to the residence of
a gentleman, to whom, indeed, I had not a letter, but whose family, as I
had been assured, were prepared to receive me. It was rather formidable
to arrive thus, at fall of night, a wayfaring lonely woman, spiritless,
half-dead with fatigue, among entire strangers; but my reception set me
at ease in a moment. The words "We have been long expecting you!"
uttered in a kind, cordial voice, sounded "like sweetest music to
attending ears." A handsome, elegant-looking woman, blending French ease
and politeness with English cordiality, and a whole brood of lively
children of all sizes and ages, stood beneath the porch to welcome me
with smiles and outstretched hands. Can you imagine my bliss, my
gratitude?--no!--impossible, unless you had travelled for three days
through the wilds of Canada. In a few hours I felt quite at home, and my
day of rest was insensibly prolonged to a week, spent with this amiable
and interesting family--a week, ever while I live, to be remembered
with pleasurable and grateful feelings.