_A ROMANTIC WEDDING._
1815.
There came a time early in the life of Rug, the Chief's youngest son,
when love of adventure gave way to a deeper, holier love. One
beatific vision was ever before him--the vision of a beautiful girl
just budding into womanhood.
The first glimpse he ever had of Hannah Chamberlain was at the little
Congregational meeting-house, which had been supplied with a pastor
by the Congregational Board of Massachusetts in response to an appeal
from the settlers. He often sat gazing at her through the whole
service, and whenever she looked towards him now and then she might
have read in his tell-tale face the passionate emotion which stirred
his heart. He was at a loss to understand why her presence had such
a strange influence over him.
"She reminds me more of mother than any woman I have ever met," he
mused, as he turned over the leaves of the hymn-book carelessly.
Just then Mr. Meach, who had been preaching of the love of Christ,
hesitated to find a passage in the old Testament which he intended to
read to the congregation. It was the momentary pause which led Rug
to listen to the preaching, for he had not heard a word of what had
gone before.
"David, in his lament over Jonathan, said: 'Very pleasant hast thou
been unto me. Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of
women.' Sweeter, stronger, fuller and better than any earthly love,"
continued the preacher, "is the love of Christ to us. Add together
all the love of all the loving hearts in the world, multiply it by
infinity, and you will have a faint idea of what the love of God in
Christ is. He loves you, my brethren, absorbingly, unutterably."
"What is this strange sensation that has come over me," said Rug to
himself, "that seems to possess my thoughts and emotions whenever I
see that beautiful girl, or hear of love?"
The more he thought of it the more puzzled he became, for hitherto
there had been but little deep sentiment about Rug, who believed more
in the common-place than in the romantic. He never had any
inclination to read love stories, which he regarded as unreal and
unnatural. But now the probability of the improbable surprised and
amused him. "This is positively absurd," he said to himself, as he
stood with the rest of the congregation to receive the benediction.
It was a relief to him when the service was over and he joined
Chrissy on her way homeward.
Life began to have a new meaning to Rug from that day. He felt that
he only began to live when he began to love, but he felt that it
would have been an intrusion on the sacredness of his love to have
mentioned it to anyone, even to Miss Chamberlain herself. Month
after month passed which only served to intensify his affection. At
length he sought an opportunity of laying the matter before his
father. His confidence was not rudely repelled. It never had been.
He was not reproached for presuming to think of love and marriage at
so early an age for he was only twenty. On the contrary, his father
said:
"There can be no question in my mind that wedded life is the ideal
life for man--the life which God intended for you and for me. If
your affections are involved, my boy, why not write and put the case
before the young woman of your choice?"
Acting upon his father's advice he penned the following short, manly
note:
DEAR MISS CHAMBERLAIN,--I know a young man who is very fond of you.
He would like to begin a correspondence with you with a view to
marriage. Kindly inform me if I may hold out to him any prospect of
encouragement.
Yours truly,
RUG WRIGHT.
Several days passed before he received a reply to his letter, and
when at last it came his hands trembled as he broke the seal and read
as follows:
DEAR MR. WRIGHT,--You certainly may not hold out any encouragement
until I know the gentleman who would confer upon me the honor to
which you refer.
The only true basis of such a union is love, and I cannot love one
whom I do not know. If the gentleman in question will call to-morrow
I shall be pleased to receive him.
Yours truly,
HANNAH CHAMBERLAIN.
The courtship thus commenced resulted a few months later in a unique
wedding. Rev. Mr. Meach had given up the charge, owing to declining
health and strength, and there was no clergyman available. It was
therefore suggested that they send through the woods to the new
Scotch settlement of Perth for a Justice of the Peace, who, it was
reported, was authorized to perform marriages.
An Indian guide was secured, and Rug commenced a long and tedious
journey through the forest on snowshoes.
No one but an Indian could have kept the tangled path, which led
through a perfect confusion of drifts and underbrush. Though only
fifty-six miles distant, they were nearly a week on the way, for
after several days of circuitous wanderings the Indian was forced to
admit that he was not positive as to the exact location of the
settlement. Their perseverance was rewarded after five days on
seeing smoke ascending from a small collection of huts.
"Is this the Scotch settlement?" asked Rug of an old man who was
cutting wood.
"Ay, sir," was the reply.
"Is there a Justice of the Peace here?"
"Ay, sir."
"Well," said Rug, "I want to see him. Where is he?"
The old man dropped his axe, and going to one of the huts, knocked at
the door.
"Is your gude mon at hame?" he asked of a tall, fair woman, who had
all the evidence of a lady of refinement and culture.
"The Major left this morning for Montreal," she replied, "but he has
appointed Archie McKeracher to act in his place during his absence."
They then approached Archie, who was busily engaged in hewing a stick
of timber near his shanty.
"I believe," said Rug, "that you are authorized to act as Justice of
the Peace?"
"That I am," he said, pulling himself up as if straining to attain to
the height of the dignity and importance of the position.
"And that you can issue licenses and perform marriages?"
"Ay," he said, "that I can."
"Well," continued Rug, "I want you to come down to the Chaudiere to
perform a ceremony for me."
"Mon alive," he exclaimed, "would you be askin' such a thing? Dinna
ye ken that my gude wife an my bairnies 'ud perish? Na! na! na!"
"But," said Rug, "I shall pay you for loss of time, and it will be to
your profit. I'll give you £10 for your trouble."
"Na! na!" he said. "Ten gouden sovereigns would na pay me for my
trouble."
After a long and tedious discussion it was finally decided that the
Scotchman should return with them in consideration of "the young
mon's importunity," and that the fee be raised to £14.
Rug and the Scotchman reached the White House just as the members of
the Chief's family were gathering round the supper table, and the
devoted young lover was not slow in observing Hannah in the group.
"We have bad news for you, Rug," said his father. "We have just
ascertained that marriages are not valid in Lower Canada unless
performed by a minister or priest."
For a moment Rug was speechless--partly from disappointment and
partly from displeasure. As he stood before them he looked a model
of muscular strength and manliness, though little more than a boy.
He looked fondly at Hannah, and as she met his gaze her cheeks grew
crimson and her eyes dropped shyly under their long lashes. The
devotion of her lover filled her with an indescribable ecstasy which
thrilled her innermost soul, making it responsive to his. In her
opinion Rug was all that was good and true and noble. He was her
ideal, and she was determined to love, honor and obey him, humbly,
tenderly, completely, submissively.
"Is an outward ceremony necessary?" he said, "to complete a union of
heart and soul which was made in heaven months ago?"
"I have a plan," said the Chief, "which you will be perfectly
justified in adopting under the circumstances. Let us drive down on
the ice to-morrow, and halt on the other side of the border line
between the two provinces, and have our Scottish friend perform the
ceremony in Upper Canada, which he is entitled to do by law."
The suggestion was received with applause by all present, and
preparations for the wedding proceeded with.
On the day following, an exceedingly brief ceremony was performed on
the frozen river, the only part of which the bewildered bridegroom
could remember being the last words of the Scotchman: "I pronoonce ye
mon and wife." The solemn words seemed to echo and re-echo in unison
with the merry jingle of the sleigh-bells as he drove with his young
bride through snowy fields and drifts of spotless purity to his
father's house, followed by a long line of sleighs. The limbs of the
dignified elms which guarded the approach to the house hung heavily
glittering in the setting sun, the ice laden spruces waved wearily
and crackled as the numerous guests filed into the large front room.
There was an awkward silence, as though it might have been a funeral,
for the tendency of life in the woods seemed to impart to many of the
early settlers something of the characteristics of their
surroundings--calmness, silence, stability--and they seemed to shrink
from the sound of their own voices. Some of the young men looked as
though they would like to have given up their seats to the young
ladies who were standing, but were too bashful to propose it.
Fortunately the embarrassing silence was soon broken by the happy
announcement that supper was ready in the kitchen.
What a bright and cheery appearance that kitchen presented! On the
hearth a huge pile of dry resinous logs burned brilliantly, filling
the room with light and warmth and good cheer. On the iron crane
which swung back over the fire hung a huge "spare rib" of fresh pork,
the gravy of which dripped into a pan below. Several pots or
"kittles" were also suspended from the crane, containing fowl,
potatoes, or apple-sauce, while willing hands assisted in placing
upon the long trellis tables steaming hot pies, cakes, and loaves of
fancy bread, which were brought from the outer brick oven.
Full justice having been done to the repast, they formed in couples,
the best man with the bride. The bridegroom with the first
bridesmaid led the way back to the front room, which had been cleared
of all superfluous articles of furniture, and where Joe Larocque was
tuning his "fiddle."
Then followed a scene of merriment such as the young people of the
settlement had never before beheld, and in which even the bashful
lads who had been slow to offer their chairs to the ladies took as
active a part as any. The dancing was prolonged until the small
hours of the morning, when the guests drove off in the moonlight to
relate the circumstances of the romantic wedding to their friends.