_HOPES REALIZED AND THE JOURNEY ENDED._
A young man with an intense love for nature, who had heard and answered
the call of the wilderness, who knew the silent places, the forest
giants, who associated with the birds and the rippling streams and
revelled in it all, could not be content even in the little town which
York was in those days. If Robert had lived to-day he would not have
been content to spend his life in the heart of a city. He would have
been an engineer or a surveyor or something which would have taken him
out into the mountain solitudes or into the forest. He would have loved
to struggle with the elements, to have studied nature’s moods and to
have watched her ever-changing pictures.
[Illustration: “ONE MORNING A YOUTH STARTED OUT ALONG THE MISSISSAGA
TRAIL.”]
Early one morning a youth, now grown to twenty-one years and more
stalwart and sturdy than when we first met him, started out with a
good-sized pack on his back along what was known as the Mississaga
trail. In his pack was his all, a tent and an outfit to allow him to
live in the forest. This was arranged so that he could make his home
where night overtook him, pack up again by daylight and start on
again. He wasn’t on a trapping expedition this time, however. When the
lad had left his Orkney home four years before he had had a definite
purpose in mind which had stayed with him steadfastly during the
intervening time. The main thing he had come to Canada for was that
some day he might have a home of his own and be in a position to help
those whom he had left behind. His mind was filled with pictures of the
log cabin he had passed on his way to Little York, and he was setting
out now to search for a suitable location so that the picture might be
materialized. The Mississaga trail ran westerly along the lake shore
from Little York in about the same place where the Toronto to Hamilton
highway now provides passage for thousands of motors. How different
the scene was then, however. Nowadays we sweep along on this concrete
pavement as luxuriously as in Pullman cars, at twenty to thirty miles
an hour. Robert passed over the trail, which was not by any means so
straight as the highway, and up and down the hills, which at that
time no one ever dreamed would be smoothed up by engineers a hundred
years later, slowly though steadily, all the while on the lookout for
a location for his home-to-be. His ideal included several things.
First of all he wanted his cabin on a height so that he could have
a commanding view of the water such as had been so great a delight
in his boyhood days in the far-away Orkney home. He wanted a place,
too, where he could have nature’s hills and valleys--glens with the
wooded giants which he had learned to look upon for protection and
to furnish the fuel which he knew was so necessary in the Canadian
climate. Robert’s eyes were brighter than they had been during his
journey from Fort Garry a little time before. He had nothing now to
worry him. His responsibilities were light. His mind was full of plans
and hopes of the finest type for the future, and as, during the hours
which passed he formulated further plans, his face lighted up again and
again with the joys of anticipation. Again, his notice was attracted by
the splendid forest trees all along the trail. He thought of the value
these magnificent trees would show if they could only be taken across
the sea. Little did he imagine, however, that years afterward his own
son would be engaged in just such a business, having these knights
of the forest cut, dressed and transported to his father’s old home.
Perhaps reasons which Robert did not appreciate and which he could not
understand were driving him through the forest trails. The ordinary
young man would have wanted to stay in the town where such life and
liveliness as were known in the new country were evident. Robert had
liked life in Little York, some of which appealed to him very strongly.
For instance, he had not seen a white woman since he had left his
Orkney home until he walked around the streets of the village the day
after his arrival. It had been a pleasant experience to associate
with good men and women who talked his own language and who liked
to converse about matters he was familiar with across the sea, but
underneath his longing for the comforts and pleasures these conditions
offered there lay a spirit and a longing which drove him unwittingly
out on the trail.
[Illustration: “HE COOKED HIS SUPPER OVER THE FIRE.”]
As he passed along he occasionally met Indians. These seemed better
men physically than those he had known in the West, but their dialect
was entirely different and they were not able to understand him when
he tried to speak to them. He wanted to know the conditions of the
country, whether there were settlers ahead of him, where the type of
location he had in mind was likely to be met with; and when he kindled
a fire, after pitching his tiny tent, and stood looking into the coals,
after his plain and humble supper had been prepared and eaten, when the
thoughts of his ideal cabin and his prospective home occurred to him,
he seemed to see dancing in the shadows a girlish figure beckoning him
on. With this came pictures again of the interior of the cabin, with
a warm fireplace where he could sit during the long winter nights and
where happiness would be supreme, where the maiden would be the queen
of the home and where he would be the king. So engaged was he with
these thoughts that he did not notice the fire was dying down until
the howling of wolves was heard around him, and with this the snarling
of the wild cats. Quickly the fire was kindled anew, and with his feet
toward the blaze he lay down to enjoy pleasant dreams.
In the morning, as he passed along the trail, he began to come into
pleasing sections, and here and there he cleared away the snow between
the trees and chopped into the freezing earth to examine its quality.
He was in no hurry, because when he had located and erected his cabin
he wanted to be finally satisfied. However, he knew from the size
of the timber and the abundance of the forest growth that the land
where he was standing would, if cleared, grow splendid, golden grain.
Occasionally, too, he saw another cabin, which told him that pioneers
were selecting locations in the district. As the trail approached the
lake he saw log cabins on the other side of a clearing, and looking
over the tops of the trees from a hill he noted a sweep of sand across
a narrow section of the lake, with a good-sized bay beyond it. He
was gazing for the first time at what we now know as Burlington Bay.
He liked the situation, perhaps for one reason because it was more
like his Orkney home than any part of the country he had travelled
previously. He decided that somewhere in the district would be the
ideal spot for his home and for a time, because he wanted to be careful
and satisfied about it, he scouted through the district. As he went a
little further west he discovered a section of rolling land, of hill
and dale, very much like his island home in the Orkneys. Climbing
one of the higher hills he found a commanding view of the bay and
also found a spot where a cabin could be built amid the beauties of
the forest. Amid the silence the ripple of water came to his ears,
and walking a little distance down the hill he came to a spring of
pure water rising out of the earth as cold and clear as crystal, so
that even the winter’s frost could not prevent it flowing freely. He
was satisfied. He knew in a moment that his search was over. He had
discovered his idea for the future, for the home of the queen of his
dreams.
Next morning Robert lost no time in beginning to carry out the
practical part of his dream, and here again was put in practice some
of the training he had received in the wilderness in the Hudson’s Bay
Company’s employ. He selected a score or more of the forest giants in
the vicinity and went to work to fell them. During his short stay in
Little York he had made himself familiar with the principles used in
building these useful log homes and consequently knew exactly what to
do. For two or three weeks he was engaged in squaring the logs and
cutting them to the proper lengths, and finally, after having made
arrangements with a few of the nearest settlers, he was able to get his
home together. Robert had a bigger outlook than the ordinary settler
of that day. For instance, his cabin was built twenty by thirty feet,
which was considerably larger than those which were usually erected. He
made it one and a half stories in height and provided for a living-room
with two comfortable bedrooms on the first floor. Needless to say,
he did not forget the fireplace in one end of the living-room, and
as this was constructed he saw pictures of the splendid fires that
would be found there in the future and which would cast a cheerful
glow throughout the cabin. Again, other settlers had been satisfied to
build their homes from the timber most convenient. Robert had chosen
for his walls oak logs and the roof was covered with shingles of split
oak. Through all this he thought of the queen of the home he had not
yet met, who in the future was to occupy this cabin home with him. Day
after day he continued to work. Every crack was carefully chinked. The
log floor was hewn as smooth as hard muscle and skill could make it. He
remembered that someone else would have to keep this floor clean in the
days to come, and he wanted it as smooth as possible so that this duty
would be light.
The home itself finished, his attention was turned to the preparation
of furniture, for in those days the pioneer had no opportunity of
sending an order to the departmental store for everything he wanted.
In all this, of course, Robert was thinking primarily of the queen of
the home-to-be, but provision was made as well for a welcome for the
chance stranger, for he intended that hospitality of a true kind would
be one of the features of the new home.
With these labors the winter had passed and summer was rapidly
approaching. The sun was growing warmer each day and the generous
mantle of snow was slowly but surely disappearing. Glancing
occasionally down toward the bay through the little clearing which came
as a result of his efforts during the winter, Robert noted that the ice
was breaking up. A few weeks later the ground seemed to be alive with
spring flowers all around his cabin, and the young man’s heart was full
of joy and gladness in the results of the successful working-out of the
early part of his plans. The birds, too, were plentiful and continually
told their story of gladness in their own way.
In spite of his happiness, however, he had a continual feeling that
something was lacking. At times he was lonesome. He wished to share his
good fortune and he felt that he would not only be happier but that he
could do better work if he had someone to work for--someone to share
his happiness. When the evening came and his work was done he would
sit in his cabin with his face in his hands and gaze into the glowing
ashes of the fire that had been used for the preparation of his evening
meal. He longed to hear the light step on the floor behind him. He
longed for someone in the cabin to call him by his name. At first his
struggles with the trees had been new and had kept him busy. He had
found it exciting to chop away into the heart of one of the giants,
to watch it tremble and then start faster on its downward journey,
this to end in a final crash. But this had become commonplace. The
camp-fires, the old tenting-places, the rippling streams, the forest
with the birds and flowers, were all right in their place; but now he
had become a real man there was a place in his heart for something
bigger and stronger than any of these. Sometimes he felt that he had
been very foolish in completing his cabin without making some provision
for the one who was to share it with him, but again he felt that all
in good time the lack would be provided for. Finally, as he sat in
the cabin thinking his usual thoughts on a Saturday evening, his mind
turned toward conditions in his old Orkney home, and he realized fully
the real home that had been. He saw, as he never had before, that the
light of that home had been mother. It was mother who kept the family
waters calm. It was she who had lighted the spirit of love which had
illumined that old home. In the midst of these dream fancies he was
brought from his thoughts of the loved ones across the sea with a start
when it seemed that suddenly a maiden’s voice called to him, clear
and sweet, saying: “Robert, how is it that you are here alone? I have
been dreaming too, and I have heard a call that was borne to me in the
whispering of the wind, in the branches in the trees, by the song of
the birds as they fluttered through the forest. These have been singing
songs of love to me, songs full of hope and cheer to which my soul
responds. Let me light up your life. Let me have a share in your heart.”
Robert was at a loss to understand the vision, but he felt that it
was real. Naturally his last few years of life in the heart of nature
had made him a believer in the spirit world, and while he could not
understand nor explain the circumstances of the message which had come
to him, he felt that there must be a reason for it. He felt, too, that
it was an evidence that some of his longings were to be answered and,
as can be anticipated, he went to sleep that evening very happily.
This feeling persisted when he arose the next morning, Sunday, and as
the sun rose clear and warm and threw a golden gleam of light through
the forest he knelt in a fervent prayer of thankfulness. When he sat
down to his morning meal he did not forget also to give thanks for
his food, for he realized that he owed all to his Heavenly Father for
guiding him to this verdant spot and for helping him up to this time,
and with his prayers his hope was kindled anew.
That morning, for some reason which he could hardly define, Robert
felt an impulse to follow some unaccustomed paths through the forest.
He had made visits to his neighbors along the trail back to Little
York, but had been so busy that he had not followed the paths in any
other direction. This time impulse moved him to travel north-west,
and after he had covered about five miles he met a newly-blazed trail
leading away from the main pathway. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps
it was impulse which led him to follow this, but after a little time
his heart suddenly jumped in his throat, and he felt himself quivering
with more hesitancy than he had felt even when he was face to face
with the Indians in the far North-West, when he heard a girl’s voice
clearly and sweetly singing a morning hymn his mother had sung back in
the old Orkney home, evidencing a love for the Great Father on high.
As he listened he knew that the voice was approaching, and peering
through the trees he finally caught a glimpse of the first woman he
had seen in the district. It was not surprising that to this youth,
who had scarcely seen a white woman, much less spoken to one since
he left the old land, the voice should seem like that of an angel from
heaven or as sweet as the birds that sang among the blossoms in the
trees. Naturally the last thing Robert wished to do was to alarm the
maiden, so he walked slowly in her direction, looking through the trees
as though he had not seen her. In a moment, however, the young woman
caught sight of him and stood motionless, waiting for him to approach.
[Illustration: “WITH A PRAYER OF THANKFULNESS IN HIS HEART ROBERT
GREETED HER.”]
In these days, when we live under the restrictions of social usage,
the matter of the first meeting of a youth and a maiden is usually a
somewhat formal one. Usually, too, anything but serious matters are
discussed on such an occasion. Conditions were different with these
two. Here was a youth who had scarcely spoken to a woman of his own
class during the years since he had left his father’s home, a boy. Now
a man who had established his character and had made considerable of a
name for himself in a new land, he was having his first words with a
maiden, who likewise had had little to do with men of her own age and
who latterly, outside of the members of her own family, had not known
what it was to mingle with young men. With a prayer of thankfulness in
his heart Robert greeted her, and while he knew all in a moment that
this was the maiden of his dreams, he was practical enough to note the
beauties of face and figure and also to see that the young woman of
the forest was dressed in a becoming, if simple, new gown.
In her turn also the young woman was experiencing feelings which had
heretofore been unknown. She too had had dreams. She too felt that
in this young man whom she had by chance met so appropriately that
Sabbath morning lay the realization of her visions, and, as happiness
such as she had not before known came to her, it suddenly seemed that
all the songsters under the skies had gathered in the trees about and
were now singing their sweetest songs for them. The girl’s cheeks were
fair and perfect as a rose. Her sparkling blue eyes seemed to Robert
as brilliant as stars in the heavens. She was indeed for him the
forest queen. For a moment they looked into one another’s eyes with an
understanding which surely was suggested in realms above the earth, and
then naturally, if somewhat shyly, she invited him to her home, noting
that it was just a mile further along the trail. “Father and mother
would welcome you courteously, as all the people in the district do.”
Robert had always been very much at home in the forest. How he
walked had not bothered him very much, but as now he stepped along
the path with her whom he knew to be the queen of his heart he felt
very awkward. But, as they passed along the trail and talked of the
flowers, the birds, the trees and the beauties of nature, the mutual
sympathy which was soon very evident shortly remedied any feelings of
diffidence either of them had, and both felt that the other was surely
a kindred spirit. Arriving in a little time at the cabin door, the
maiden invited Robert to enter, explaining a little diffidently, “This
is a stranger, mother, whom I met on our trail.” The mother’s hand was
at once extended and in her eyes shone a welcome which Robert knew
to be sincere. After a moment, when the mother inquired his name, he
suggested somewhat casually, “If you would please me, madam, just call
me Robert.” Accepting the suggestion as it was meant, the father, in a
matter of fact way, in his turn remarked, “Well, Robert, where did you
come from? Are you settled down around here?”
A few moments sufficed to make Robert feel heartily at home. Very soon
he found out that the father was the son of a United Empire Loyalist
who had left his home in the United States when the rebellion against
British rule occurred thirty years before and made his way up into
another section of Canada. The son, when he had married and when his
family was beginning to grow up, had started out to find a fortune
in this new district adjacent to Burlington Bay. Robert learned also
that within a few miles of him in another new district there were a
number of other loyalist families. He had heard stories at home of the
sacrifices made by these splendid people and was very well satisfied
that he had been directed to cast in his lot among them.
One of the many things Robert had been taught at home was that to be
a good conversationalist one must be a good listener, and although he
had done very little talking since he had come to Canada he remembered
his parents’ advice, particularly at this time when he was anxious to
make a good impression in the home, and for a time he sat listening
attentively and showing a deep interest in the conversation. The
father in turn was greatly impressed with the young man. He liked his
open countenance and his modest and unassuming manner and, with so
attentive a listener, he was moved to tell a good deal about the early
experiences of his father’s family in the United States and of the
journey north from New Jersey. Had he known of the adventures through
which the youth had passed during the last few years, how his endurance
and pluck had been tested to the uttermost, he would have considered
his experiences hardly worth telling about.
In the meantime the young woman, with several others of the good-sized
family of boys and girls of the home, had been busy preparing dinner,
and shortly this was announced. What a dinner it was! To us who are
used to several courses, cooked under most convenient conditions, it
might not have seemed so appetizing, but to Robert, who for several
years past had been doing the most of his cooking himself and had lived
most plainly, it surely seemed a banquet, and truly it was wholesome
and abundant. To the young man, who had been living largely on dried
meat and flap-jacks, a boiled dinner of cabbage, potatoes and meat,
tastefully seasoned, cooked to a finish, with an inviting-looking
pudding and a well-filled plate of cookies, all served on a spotless
tablecloth, was surely a treat. Then it all seemed so much like his
mother’s cooking that it was with difficulty that the tears were kept
from running down his cheeks. It was but natural, too, that the mother
of the home reminded him in many ways of his own dear mother.
The afternoon passed all too quickly, and when he felt that he must go
Robert said good-bye with a heart so full of love with the world that
it appeared to be brighter to him. The grass was greener, the birds
sang more sweetly, and even the path under his feet seemed softer than
when he passed that way before. The maiden of the home came to the
door with him, after he had said good-bye to the others and after the
mother had given him an invitation to visit them often, and had given
him a firm but gentle grip of the hand which sent a thrill to his
very soul. When their eyes met as they had done that morning a look
of understanding and appreciation passed between the two which told
Robert more than words could have done.
Robert’s head was held a little higher than was usual when he walked
to his cabin that evening. Here was the answer to his hopes and his
prayers of the last few weeks. His helpmate was now within reach, and
what a helpmate his newly-found love was! On Monday morning he entered
on his conflict with the forest with a new spirit. He had worked hard
before, but now he worked with a definite object in view. Land must
be cleared to grow food and to provide for the support of his bride,
and as his sturdy muscles drove the ringing axe into the trunks of the
trees, with every blow the words seemed to ring through his heart, “It
is for her.” Again at times he would pause for a moment and listen, and
then there seemed to come to him, faintly ringing through the forest,
the notes of the hymn he had heard so sweetly sung the Sunday previous.
He appreciated, too, the fact that something more than his own sense
had been guiding him along the trail that Sunday morning, and often
during the week he was on his knees in thankfulness for the blessings
that had been given him.
You chaps who have been through something of the same circumstances
will appreciate how hard it was for Robert to stay away from the
newly-discovered cabin even for a week. Every evening when his day’s
work was done, even though he was tired enough to drop, he felt an
almost unbearable impulse to walk the few miles which separated his
cabin from the other home. He felt, however, that the good impression
he had made the previous Sunday should be preserved, and he tried to
work all the harder so that the temptation would not be so strong. It
was not surprising that he woke early the following Sunday, and it was
not surprising also that after his few regular duties were done he
was particular to spend some little time looking after his personal
appearance. Clothes were not a matter of much import those days and his
appearance was something which had not heretofore bothered Robert very
much. Now, however, with his new experience was coming a new feeling
that he must be worthy of his new-found love in every way, and also he
was anxious to appear as well as possible in her eyes. The weather was
threatening that morning, but the young man could not have been held
away from the other home by iron bars. As soon as he dared he started
off through the forest, and again the birds sang sweetly to him and the
flowers looked specially beautiful, as they had done on the previous
Sunday. Arriving at the cabin he found the door open and knocked with
some little diffidence, stepping to one side and waiting for an answer.
In a moment he was welcomed with a pleasant smile by the one he wanted
most to see. She, too, had been spending some little time over her
dress. Her rosy-golden hair was neatly coiled around her shapely head.
Robert had learned her name on his previous visit, when her mother
had addressed her simply as “Mary,” and in consequence he greeted her
naturally and simply with a “Good-morning, Mary,” and in reply she
called him just as naturally by his name.
This time, as was to be expected, Mary’s father and mother were anxious
to learn something more about the young man who had happened so
curiously into their home, and the opportunity he had wished for but
had not had previously to tell them something of his experiences was
thus afforded. As simply as he could without emphasizing unduly his own
deeds, he told them how he had left his home in the Orkneys with his
brother, under contract with the Hudson’s Bay Company, and something
of his experiences since that time. Lest they should feel that he was
boasting, he hesitated to tell them about the adventuresome happenings
of the last two years. Rather he dwelt upon the people at home and
talked of his mother and father and of the conditions there.
While he talked Robert’s eyes followed Mary about the home while she,
as a good housewife would, looked after varied duties. While perhaps
he did not realize it he was interested in seeing what kind of a home
was provided, and it was exceedingly satisfactory to him to see that
everything was tidy and in its place. Evidently peace and love ruled
supreme, and this was the kind of a home, where the parents of the
children lived happily, where a man finds rest and where he learns to
love and cherish the one who shares his daily duties. To Robert it
seemed that Mary was the jewel of the home. He saw that she relieved
her mother so far as she could with the household duties, and he noted
also that she had been well trained to look after these as they should
be done. With the realization of all these things the joy in his heart
increased. Occasionally glances passing between them gave him further
satisfaction because he felt that the feeling of kindred sympathy which
had been evident on the day of their first meeting had continued, that
they were both beginning to know what love meant. When they spoke to
one another they continued to use the names Robert and Mary just as
naturally as though they had known one another since childhood.
As the weeks passed these pleasant visits continued. After a little
time, when Robert felt that he had made his position in the home known,
he felt that he could make his visits more frequent, and after a little
time, also, it became the custom for Mary to accompany him part of the
way home when his visit was over in the early evening. Of course Robert
came back when it was time for Mary to be in the cabin, and after
lingering for a few moments to get a last glimpse of his sweetheart,
walked away sturdily to his own cabin, dreaming of love and future
happiness.
One of the pleasant incidents of the summer days was a visit Mary paid
with her father and mother to Robert’s cabin. They were surprised at
its size, since it was even larger than their own home provided for
the good-sized family it housed. Then, while Robert drew the father
to the top of the hill to show him the outlook and also to give him
an idea of the work he was undertaking, Mary and her mother, as they
believed Robert would wish, examined the interior of the cabin. Again
they were surprised when they saw all that had been done to make the
place a real home. The neatness of the cabin, considering that it was
looked after by a man, was unusual. They appreciated, too, the careful
work the young man had done in putting together the furniture which was
placed around the three rooms, and saw that he had made every provision
he knew how for the partner who was to occupy the home with him. They
all appreciated that this, too, was to be a real home, and the father
and mother, understanding how sturdy was the character of the young man
who had prepared it, had had little hesitation in granting his request
when, a short time previously, he had come to ask them for their
daughter as his bride.
Between Mary and Robert themselves the utmost sympathy prevailed. It
was hardly necessary to discuss the matter of an acknowledgment, for
as they associated with one another during Robert’s visits and walked
together when occasion permitted, the kindredness of thought and
feeling was so apparent that each knew their future was bound up in the
other. It was a case where God had seemed to direct, where surely a
guiding hand, stronger than man’s, had been in evidence.
The wedding day was set for October 16th in the year 1819, and again
nature seemed to be decked for the occasion. The forest foliage, while
in a dull season, still showed bright hues. What wild flowers still
bloomed in the fall of the year were used to decorate the table, and
enough of these remained to provide garlands for the bride to wear. The
wedding dinner was provided almost altogether by the newly-cleared land
and by the animals which God provided in the district.
Simplicity prevailed everywhere in those days. There was no thought
of a wedding journey. After the ceremony Robert led his bride slowly
from her home to the new one. Over the trail they went quietly,
thinking thoughts of the happy future; over the trail upon which they
had first met less than six months before; and, as they passed, the
spirit of love seemed everywhere, and in the peacefulness of the day
there seemed to lie a promise of a peaceful and happy life for the
newly-wedded couple. When they arrived at the door of the new home
it was opened by the hand of him who was now husband. The cabin was
entered, Mary tripping over the doorstep like a queen, and as Robert
welcomed her, as he had never been able to do before, he realized that
the cabin had now become a real home.
LOVE AND HOME.
No palace, house or cot can make a home;
Home must be made by love, and love alone.
Love can build sanctuaries in deserts bare,
Raise homes of peace and hope and loving care;
Sweet homes of freedom, where the worn may rest,
Safe as a babe upon its mother’s breast.
Love is the mainspring; love, and love alone,
Supplies the sweets of life, the joyful tone
Which joys in living each and every day;
Love is the light which lightens all the way.
Until at last, when earthly love is o’er--
And then, behold, ’tis love for evermore!
[Illustration: “THUS WERE ROBERT’S EARLY HOPES AND PLANS REALIZED.”]
Thus were Robert’s early hopes and plans materialized. With that day
came the fruition of most of his dreams, and as the days and weeks and
years passed by and the fine spots in his character, the foundations of
which had been so well and truly laid, developed further it was seen
that they provided for a real happiness. Mary, too, had her part in
providing the peacefulness and comfort of a happy home. She was a
true helpmate, and with the years there came to him the blessings that
come in a home. Sons and daughters were given to them, fourteen in all,
and while these brought added cares and responsibilities, they brought
added joys. With the course of time Robert extended his holdings. After
the first few years his land had been practically all cleared, and as
his sons were born to him he was anxious that provision should be made
for their future. He worked hard and introduced the boys also to a life
of similar industry, though he and his wife were careful to give them
such education as was possible in the neighborhood. Population also
grew rapidly in the district, and when Robert’s sturdy principles of
character made themselves known among the neighbors various honors such
as come to a similar type of man were given to him. He was a man of
whom the district was proud, a man who accepted such responsibilities
as were given him seriously, a man who was sure to see that things were
done when they were undertaken. Robert did not escape difficulties.
Even in those days business transactions were not altogether free
from vexatious happenings, but he pursued the policy of honesty and
straightforwardness which had been so carefully drilled into him by his
father and mother, and by reason of this was always on the right side.
People knew that his word could be depended on, that it was as good as
his bond, that when he said a thing he meant it and that it was right.
Mary, in her turn, occupied a place relative to her husband in the
community. She was a leader among the women, often going to the homes
of her neighbors to provide what comfort and help was necessary in
times of trouble and stress. She was always ready to give advice and
help. Many and many a bride came to her for help in her difficulties.
Many and many a young man was given good advice when making plans for
his future.
Thus was happiness provided for and love ruled alone. For twenty-seven
years the two journeyed along life’s pathway happily and truly, and
then, while Robert was yet a stalwart man and apparently in good health
and strength, he was one day suddenly taken ill and received his call
up the long, long trail which has no ending here on earth. It was a
blow to him when he realized that the end had come, particularly when
it came so suddenly and unexpectedly. It was hard for him to leave his
helpmate in life. It was hard, too, to have to say good-bye to the home
which had been so much to him. He felt, too, that he had a good deal
in life yet to do, but as the end came near he seemed to appreciate
that the One who called had more work for him to do somewhere else in a
better place, and through his tears he answered briefly, “God’s will
be done.” And as he journeyed on up the trail he did not go blindly,
for the pathway was lighted up by the love which had been born in his
soul as a youth and which by the faithful following of duty had been
developed into a flaming torch which was to light him continually along
the pathway.
One of the sturdy hero’s hopes had not been materialized. It had been
a deeply-impressed wish in his heart that some time the opportunity
should be provided to return to his father and mother in the old Orkney
home. In this he had been disappointed. His parents naturally had
preceded him in death, and his life had been such a busy one that the
considerable journey back to the old home had never been provided for.
However, his wish did find realization in another way, for he found his
father and mother waiting patiently for him when he reached that land
“fairer than day” from which the call had come for him.
For forty years Mary, as Robert’s widow, carried on his
responsibilities, and with her family of fourteen these were by no
means light. Never once did she flinch, however. As Robert had prayed
with her during his lifetime, so she was now given strength to pray,
and as she prayed she knew that her prayers were answered. She did
her best to bring her children up as their father would have had
them reared. When the time came she led them to the church in the
neighborhood, and Sunday after Sunday, as she walked along the roadway
to the church service, holding her children by the hand, she sang the
same song which Robert had heard when he had first met her, back on the
trail years before. When she had lived her life as God intended she,
too, was called on high and was again placed at Robert’s side to live
together as they had done on earth, but in the happiness that is only
known in that great land beyond.
HOW “KID” MADE GOOD
A STORY OF THE CANADIAN LUMBER WOODS
“What are you doing here, Kid?”
This was the greeting that came to a lad of fifteen who, late one
afternoon in the month of October, about thirty years ago, walked into
one of the lumber camps which were then located along the French River
in Northern Ontario. He was a light-haired boy with blue eyes showing a
natural honesty beneath them, and with a bearing that would command the
admiration of any real man.
The greeting came somewhat forcibly to the boy, particularly when it
was given by Scott, the foreman of the camp, who was known throughout
the district as a man who demanded the best from his men, though he
treated them well in return, and the lad to whom he spoke was surely
in touch with new experiences. To a boy who scarcely knew what hard
work really meant, who through force of circumstances was forced to
come up against work which was ordinarily tackled by physical giants,
this meant new as well as trying experiences. It was a well-known fact
that anyone who looked for employment in a lumber camp must become
one of the crew and must abide by the well-defined though unwritten
rule of those days of passing through the rather rough, but usually
good-natured treatment, such as all green, first-year hands, were
subjected to. This policy was followed in the belief, as prevails in a
good many other institutions and industries, that the sooner a green
hand got his bumps the quicker he would become a full-fledged hand.
Charlie, the young man our story is concerned with, had found his way
to what was known as Camp No. 2. Here Scott, the foreman, had seen many
years’ experience in the lumber camps and in driving logs on the most
difficult water. Furthermore, Scott had gotten his early training under
one of the hardest bosses that ever wore shoe leather--a man firm as
steel and cold as an iceberg. Naturally he had absorbed a good deal of
these qualities, but with all this he had a kindly spot in his heart,
under a rough exterior, for the green hand who seemed to have in him
the right sort of stuff, particularly if the new man were willing.
Probably Charlie would have chosen some other vocation had his
circumstances been otherwise, but at that time and in that part of
the country nothing else seemed open to him. Only a few weeks before,
through the death of his father, the family’s resources had been swept
away, and when the mother and the smaller children had been left
without support it seemed to the oldest son that it was his duty to
get into something at once which would provide for them.
Charlie looked Scott in the eyes after his first query and replied that
he was looking for a job. The answer to this was not assuring.
“Kids are no good in the forest,” said the foreman. “And the best men
have to hustle to hold their jobs in Camp No. 2. But you look tired,
kid. I’ll feed you and give you a bunk for the night.”
For the moment Charlie was left alone and had a chance to look about
him. Naturally he was interested in the approach of the crew, who,
although they had just completed a hard day’s work, seemed to be full
of life and good spirits and pushed one another about, as it seemed to
him, rather roughly. One man who had been near when the foreman spoke
to the lad had heard Scott greet him as “Kid,” and apparently, as was
customary in lumber camps, a nickname like this was bound to stick. As
the crew came to the Camp House two shrill blasts given by the cook on
his long tin horn gave a warning to get ready for supper, and this man
spoke up rather roughly:
“Get that turkey off your back, Kid, and roll up your sleeves for hash.”
Five minutes later one short blast on the horn announced supper ready,
and a stream of rough, though good-natured, men bolted out of the
sleeping-camp and hurried to the door of the cook-camp. Every member
of the crew carried his appetite with him. They took their seats in an
orderly way, for the cook was always king in the cook-camp, and they
well knew that anyone who acted in a disorderly way would be ejected,
even if the services of the carving-knife were required. Scott, the
foreman, had told the cook to put on an extra plate, so Kid was seated,
and did justice to the wholesome meal, which, his first in the camp,
was somewhat of a revelation since it supplied food in plenty, cooked
to a finish and placed steaming hot on the table. After his long tramp
during the day, with only a snack since breakfast, the meal was very
welcome.
Supper over, Kid went back to the sleeping-camp with the crew, and here
the strains of violins, mouth-organs and concertinas were soon blending
with voices which seemed like the roar of lions. Each of the crew
seemed to have his own tune and sung whatever was nearest in his heart.
Suddenly a voice rose above the noise and din, calling:
“Sourdough, don’t hog the whole camp. Give the Kid a chance.”
Charlie was bewildered. Nothing of this nature had ever been presented
to him before. He thought that he had seen rough-and-tumble play in his
games at school, but the antics of the fun-loving lumbermen surpassed
anything he knew. The black coffee, the pea soup, the pork and beans,
and the bread “like mother makes,” seemed to have added new fuel to the
relentless energy in these forest giants. In addition to singing, they
played jokes on one another and wrestled and danced. Old boots were
flying through the air and suddenly one of these, which landed directly
on Kid’s nose, caused the blood to flow freely.
One of the crew, a swarthy giant who, with matted hair and whiskers,
bore a good deal of resemblance to a grizzly bear and who, by the way,
probably by reason of dissimilitude, had been christened “Babe,” jumped
up in the seat which ran around the edge of the lower bunks. Clenching
his fist, he followed the direction from which the boot had been flung,
and a warning was given that if further pranks were tried on the Kid
he would smash the face of the joker so that his best girl would never
recognize him again. All this was quite typical. There were many rough
men in Camp No. 2 ready to act as protector to a lad like Kid. They
liked the cleanness and manliness of his face, which also showed a
stamping of determination indicating that he was brave enough to try to
take care of himself when he had to.
After a moment Babe’s eye rested on one of the crew who was in the
habit of meting out rough treatment to green hands, and who had been
familiarly christened “Jumbo.” At times Babe was quite ready to do
his share of the hazing process also, but he realized that beside him
was a lonely lad who had wandered into the camp without knowing what
experiences he would meet, and under these conditions he was glad to
become the boy’s champion and ready to fight to the death, if needs be,
for him. Jumbo, in his turn, did not particularly welcome being called
to account before the crew by Babe or any other member of the camp,
and in a moment he edged his way over to the side of the lad, and in a
provoking tone remarked:
“Did you run away from your home, Kid, or did your dad kick you out?”
Babe, who had boys of his own, was a good judge of boy character, and
looking down in Charlie’s face he realized that there was something
more in the situation than lay on the surface. Jumbo’s insulting remark
had cut like a dagger, and the boy’s face bore a look of pain which
at first could not be understood. Babe noted this, and acting on his
instinct for protection, dropped his fist like a sledge-hammer in
Jumbo’s face and sent him rolling back among the crew.
In an instant the music and singing ceased. It was the lull before the
storm. Jumbo gathered himself up and was getting ready to renew the
attack when, like a flash, the door opened and in it stood a splendid
specimen of manhood. It was Scott, the foreman, who instinctively
seemed to have the faculty of arriving in scenes of this kind at the
psychological moment. With one leap he was by Kid’s side, and seeing
the blood on the lad’s face, he demanded the name of the man who
had dealt the blow. Jumbo was no coward, and furthermore he had not
intended to injure the lad quite so badly. He faced Scott readily,
admitting that he had flung the boot, but protesting strongly against
any intention of injury. Scott settled the matter characteristically
and definitely by informing the crew that if any of them had not had
enough to quiet their nerves for the night he was quite ready to
accommodate them outside the camp, adding that men who threw boots
about should be taught a lesson. His challenge was not accepted.
In a few moments the lights were ordered out, the crew threw themselves
into the bunks and in a few seconds were dead to the world, and would
remain so until their call would come at four the next morning.
Something in the lad’s face and in the manliness with which he accepted
the situation strongly appealed to the foreman, and linking his arm in
Kid’s he led him out of the door and over to his own sleeping quarters.
A little later the boy told the foreman why he was looking for work.
“Well, Kid,” came the reply, roughly if kindly, “this is no charity
camp, but I know the heart of the boss. We’ll give you a fair chance to
earn what you can for the support of your mother and the kids. I’ll put
you to work to-morrow, and you can roll in with me in my bunk to-night.”
Scott threw off his outer clothing quickly and was in his bunk in a
moment. Kid undressed a little more slowly, and when the foreman looked
up in a moment he saw why the lad was waiting. He was kneeling beside
his bunk. As he looked at the boy saying his prayers he was forced to
acknowledge that in some ways the other was braver than he, since he
was not afraid to do his duty as he had been taught. In that moment Kid
had won the foreman’s heart.
Long before daylight Scott was up to waken the crew. Kid was sleeping
soundly, and since the foreman knew of the long tramp he had had the
day before he let him sleep till the breakfast call. After breakfast,
in firm but kindly tones, he told Kid he was going to put him on trial,
that if he were of the right stuff he would make good.
“Put me at any work you think I can do, sir,” the boy said in return.
“Any money I get from your company I want to earn honestly. I couldn’t
accept charity from you or your boss while I have hands to work.”
In the woods Kid was glad to be put in the hands of Babe, who was
one of the sub-foremen. At first he was naturally very awkward, but
proved himself to be a willing hand, and although his hands were
soon blistered, every muscle in his body ached, and he felt at times
that his back would surely break, he applied himself faithfully and
without a grumble. Naturally, as the days went by these conditions were
remedied, and in a short time Babe was satisfied that the boy was going
to make good. When, at the end of the first month, Scott inquired as to
how he liked the work, his answer was: “Fine, sir. This is man’s work,
and that is what I wanted to do.” At the time experienced men were
receiving twenty-five dollars per month. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, that when Scott gave Kid a time-cheque for twenty dollars
for his first month’s work he was delighted. He was glad to think that
he was now doing a man’s work and receiving a man’s pay. Of course, the
cheque went home to his mother with a letter full of good cheer.
It wasn’t long until Kid, the youngest member of the crew, became a
favorite in the camp. He was gifted with a beautiful voice, which was
heard when he was at leisure in the forest solitude and at night when
he sat in the camp and sang songs of home and mother. At times, too,
he was brave enough to sing songs he had learned in church and Sunday
school, and these were sung in such a way that, when they brought back
early memories to the hardened members of the crew, tears came to the
eyes of some of these swarthy men who, too, thought of their mothers
and of Sunday-school days. By this time, too, the story of why Kid had
been forced to work in the lumber camp had become well known. For a
time Jumbo, who had been so drastically treated on the boy’s account
on that eventful first night, held aloof; but when he heard the story
and realized how the lad must have been stung by his thoughtless remark
that night, he walked up to him, offering his hand and saying heartily:
“Kid, if you’re ever in trouble and want a friend, call on your Uncle
Jumbo.”
In December, the following month, Kid’s time-cheque mounted to
twenty-five dollars, and when he was being paid Scott informed him that
he had earned every cent of it by working with a willing, cheerful
spirit and by doing his level best, and that in this way he had been
valuable even outside his regular work as an inspiration to the older
members of the camp. This cheque reached his mother just before
Christmas, in time to purchase a good many needed things and also to
provide for a real Christmas, with a Christmas-tree and all the other
accompaniments, for the little ones. In his turn Kid was delighted at
Christmas to get a parcel of warm socks and mittens and a letter
full of thanksgiving, in which the mother expressed her gratefulness
to the men in Camp No. 2 for receiving her boy so kindly, and making
special mention of the firm’s thoughtfulness.
[Illustration: A SCENE FAMILIAR IN THE LUMBER WOODS THIRTY YEARS AGO.]
[Illustration: DRESSING A PINE MONARCH FOR SHIPMENT OVERSEAS.]
As spring approached even greater efforts were put forth in Camp No. 2.
Scott, the man who never tired in doing his best for his employer, was
like a mighty, silent force, appearing everywhere, apparently looking
after everything grimly and resolutely. He had made up his mind to see
all the logs at the river bank before spring set in, and the fairness
of his treatment made every man resolve that he would do his part.
Every night in camp stories were told of the number of logs cut and
placed upon skids that day, and of the record loads hauled by one span
of horses to the river. Each night the scaler handed in a report of the
work accomplished that day to Scott, who, after going over these, lay
down and slept the sleep which comes with the consciousness of a day’s
work well done.
Learning that there was a shortage of teamsters. Kid, who knew a little
about horses, offered himself for this work, and accordingly was
assigned to team supplies for the camp along the tote road from the
railroad, about sixty miles away. In sending him out Scott cautioned
him of the danger from the wolves, particularly at night, and told
him that if he were caught out on the road after nightfall he was to
stop and build a fire at the first howl. Failing time for this he was
to unhitch his team, climb on their backs, and make the camp the best
way he could. He was instructed, however, to provide against being out
after night by leaving the Halfway house, thirty miles from camp, at
daybreak.
Naturally, Kid planned to follow these instructions carefully, and
on his first trip left the Halfway house even before daylight, but
unfortunately, because of a heavy fall of snow during the day, was not
able to keep to the anticipated schedule. When about six miles from
camp darkness set in and he found himself alone in the forest.
Suddenly the howl of a wolf was heard. Following instructions he
stopped the team and tried to gather birchbark and bits of wood to
build his fire. It was cold, forty below, and doubtless the lad was
cold and numb from the cold and frost when the wolves surrounded him.
Probably, also, the team became frightened at the wolves, had upset
the sleigh and got away. Since there was no witness to the tragedy no
one knew definitely. At the time of the lad’s probable arrival Scott
ran outside the camp with a lantern and peered down the tote road. As
time went by he became alarmed at the failure of the lad to arrive
and suddenly, when he heard the dashing of hoofs and saw the team
running madly as if chased, he understood that something unusual had
happened. With two men and a fresh team he started back over the tote
road, and in a little time found their fears realized. Coming to the
upturned sleigh, they saw shadowy forms sneaking away into the forest,
and a little further on, underneath a tree beside the road, which the
boy had evidently tried to climb, were torn boots and some bits of
tattered clothing. Probably the lad had climbed the tree, but in his
numb condition was unable to hang on and had fallen, becoming a prey to
those ferocious brutes. While the lumber-jacks were in some respects
hard men and had seen accidents and somewhat similar things before,
their regard for the boy who had proved himself a real man made tears
flow from their eyes, which froze into icicles as they trickled down
their bearded faces. There before them, written on the snow around
their feet, was the sad tale of how the heroic lad had met his end in
the forest, doing his duty. Scott appreciated what this side of the
tragedy would mean to the lad’s mother, fully realizing that she would
appreciate how the lad had lived up to his duty, and would understand
that God’s angels had been there to claim the spirit of her boy and
take it up to a better home than earth affords.
When Scott and his men returned to camp with the story naturally a
gloom was cast over the crew. Next day, when the boss of the camp
came in, he noted on the way the signs of the tragedy, and on making
inquiries was told the sorrowful story. When told of the good qualities
of the lad he was deeply touched, and leaving the camp the following
day, he resolved to go himself to break the news to the Kid’s mother,
carrying with him a collection of over a hundred dollars which had
been made up by the members of the crew as a remembrance, to which he
himself added a substantial amount. He drove directly to the lad’s
home, and on his arrival introduced himself and handed over the purse
intended for the mother. Then came a hard task for him. He talked for
some time, but had difficulty in getting further with his story than
the fact that the money was a gift from the crew of Camp No. 2. Beads
of perspiration gathered on his brow. His face was strained, and the
matter troubled him so much that he had almost made up his mind to
leave without telling his story when the mother, noting the look of
pain on his face, pleaded to know all about Charlie. The boss tried
to speak, but could not utter the word which he felt would blast her
hopes. Then, as she knelt before him and pleaded with him to tell her
the truth, saying that she would be brave, and no further information
came, she left the room a moment, later appearing with hat and shawl,
and said, “Now, please take me to Charlie.” Finally, and almost in a
whisper, the boss said: “No, you cannot go to Charlie. His soul is in
heaven.”
After an agonized cry, the mother bravely got hold of herself and said:
“Charlie’s soul in heaven. Thank God. I can go to him there. I shall be
brave and bear the cross, for I know that Charlie will be company there
for his father. They were such chums here on earth.”
While Charlie’s face was absent from the camp, his influence was still
present. Scott, for instance, knelt and said his prayers every night
before he climbed into his bunk, just as Kid had done that first night
in camp, and as he prayed for himself Scott tried to remember the
mother and kiddies who had suffered from the loss of their son and
brother. Many of the men in the camp, too, had been influenced in a
similar way, and Camp No. 2 was a different place than it had been six
months previously.
When the winter’s work was completed and the men and teams were leaving
their quarters, many a man turned to cast a last look at the camp where
various joys had been known, where gloom had been shared by all and
where trial and difficulty had been overcome. The procession of men,
who through their experiences together that winter had become a sort of
family, a brotherhood, wended their way along the tote road. Looking
at them none could deny that these lumber-jacks were a noble breed of
men. The sons and grandsons of pioneers, men of the north, conquerors
of the forest, bound together by a chain of chivalrous deeds, of
hardships and difficulties, they were doing their part in the building
up of the future of a nation.
Scott was in the sleigh with the leading team. When they came opposite
the spot where Kid had fought his last battle against the cruel forest
conditions, a halt was ordered. The crew gathered around the spot and
Jumbo, surprisingly, spoke first, saying: “So here’s where the Kid
fought his last fight. I hope he saw that I wanted to be his friend.
I’d have liked to take a whack at these brutes myself, or to have taken
his place. I guess he would have been worth more in the world than I’ll
be.”
The procession passed on its way sorrowfully. Possibly never again
would the spot be visited by one who knew the story, but in the years
following the men who had been in Camp No. 2 that winter told at their
firesides tales of a lad who had fought his battle and won, of the
cheerful-faced boy who was man enough to face the world and the hard
things in it to support his mother, of the young man who tackled a
man’s work and did it without a murmur, and who, above all these other
things, loved God and was not afraid to acknowledge Him in his home and
in the difficult conditions of the lumber camp.
[Illustration: SOME OF CANADA’S BIG MEN, GOOD MEN ARE HERE IN EMBRYO.
YOUR DUTY, BOYS, IS TO GET READY NOW FOR THE BIG OPPORTUNITIES TO
COME.]
AN APPEAL TO PLAY THE GAME FAIRLY
Perhaps a word here from the experience of an older man than most of
those who will read this book will be helpful.
In going through the current magazines and trade journals ordinarily
read by young men and women, I am impressed by the fact that they
seem to be largely devoted to pastime or for showing methods of
accumulating wealth, and in most of these the latter seems to be termed
success. After having seen a good deal of life in its various aspects
I know full well that there is no success worth mentioning in the
terms of dollars. While it is necessary that we work hard, and keep
everlastingly at it; while it is essential that we be thrifty and look
after what we earn carefully to produce the right kind of character, it
is a fact to which those who have grown out of youth will testify if
they are serious, that the dollars a man has do not leave any lasting
record for him.
Character is all that lives. The kind words we speak, the helpful
things we do, the service we give to others willingly, the sacrifices
we make cheerfully and gladly for the good of mankind, are the things
which really count, and these things it has been surely proved are the
things which go to make up real character.
Suppose that you who are reading this are old enough to be face to face
with the realities of life. Heretofore you have been living at the home
fireside, able to depend on your father and mother for help in your
difficulties of whatever kind. It is as though your personal craft has
been sailing on a calm mill-pond. Now you have come out of the mouth of
the River of Youth and find yourself face to face with the great Ocean
of Life. New responsibility will come to you. Difficulties that you did
not appreciate will crop up frequently and you will not be able to turn
to father and mother for help. If you are made of the right stuff you
will not want to do so, but will want to sail your own course, and it
is in doing so, and in getting through the storms on your own resources
that will build up your character. It will be necessary to use courage,
grit and determination in the battle of life. These are the things
which will carry you through. But you will find that life and good
fellowship when properly used will radiate themselves widely and make
their influence largely felt. Let your words always be truthful. This
is a bigger factor in success than most young people imagine, and if
thankfulness for kindnesses received is apparent this will smooth the
way a good deal.
[Illustration: “MEN OF TO-MORROW” AMID NATURE’S WONDROUS STATUARY.]
With everything else you must remember to play the game of life fairly.
While it is only right to stand up for one’s own rights and to hold
to this principle firmly it is not at all necessary to try to shift
responsibility to the other fellow. There is far too much of this in
the world. The man who carries himself honestly, straightforwardly,
and is willing to accept the responsibility for the mistakes he is
occasionally certain to make is much more likely to be awarded praise
for the good things he does than the chap who is continually trying to
get out of difficulty by shoving the matter to someone else’s shoulders.
Keep in mind the fact that the real things of life are the ones to
be worked for, and by attempting to work up to an ideal much better
progress will be made. If God gives you powers to construct, to create,
to organize and to develop, be mightily thankful and do your utmost to
develop these powers. Any man can be mightily useful in the world if
he will seriously take hold of the talents--be they one or twenty--God
gives him and uses them as best he knows how.
And remember that it is largely the little things which make up the big
ones. What you do every day, what you read, your thoughts, your words,
your deeds, go to make up yourself, and as you speak and think and read
and do now so will you be hereafter.
If you are to win in the battle of life there must be no compromise
with your better self. One is either useful to the world or is
detrimental. There is no neutral point. You will be either somebody
or nobody, and remember that so long as you are perfectly sincere and
live according to your own knowledge and as your conscience tells you,
you will be somebody, and it doesn’t make very much difference what
the world thinks of you. The men who have proved themselves strongest,
the men of genius, the inventors, the philosophers, the preachers, the
scientists, have in hundreds of cases been men whom the people of their
day laughed at. They did the best they could according to their light,
cared little for what the people around them thought, and while they
were probably laughed at in their day, time showed their value to the
world and to their fellow men. Thus it may be with you.
[Illustration: BOYS AND GIRLS OF THE BURLINGTON PUBLIC SCHOOL.
Canada cannot be a strong nation unless her youth become strong in
character.]
If you are looking for an opening for your life’s career, you cannot
do better than pick a spot right here in Canada. Probably the place
to start is right where you are. A lot of people make mistakes in
running around looking for opportunities when, in all probability, the
opportunity is standing around the corner waiting for the door to be
opened to make a bolt in. It is the wise young man or woman who can
see an opportunity and grab it from where he stands, and in a good
many cases these opportunities consist simply in doing honestly,
sincerely and with all the heart that can be put into it the things
which lie right at hand. It may be pitching hay on the farm, chucking
coal into the fire-box of a locomotive or delivering parcels from a
grocery store. If these things are done with the right spirit and
done as well as one knows how to do them, bigger opportunities are as
certain to crop up all in good time as the sun is to rise to-morrow
morning. Those of us who look back from added years see that the hard
and trying work in what seemed to be limited opportunities was really
a preparation for the bigger things to follow, and if the one who is
doing what seems to be the little things doesn’t do them in the best
way he knows how he will not be ready to take hold of the bigger things
when they come along.
This country of ours, Canada, is to-day, in resources, an undeveloped
opportunity, the greatest under God’s heaven. With its wealth of land,
forest and mine, with its unknown and undreamed-of resources in the
sections man has not yet trod, it presents a wealth of opportunity such
as our fathers never dreamed of. The young man or woman who believes
in the syllable “can” and will develop his or her will-power to say “I
can,” and “I will,” and follows this up with the doing will not lack a
place in this country.
With all the struggle and striving for success do not forget that
life’s choicest gift is Love. Every chivalrous act results from love.
Faith, Hope and Charity are all the outgrowth of love. Nature as we see
it around us in the fields and forests is a picture of love, and is a
sort of mirror reflecting God’s thoughts.
Robert and Mary, the hero and heroine of the preceding story, went
their way and left an impress of their lives on their country and
on the hearts of the people of their time by playing fairly and by
working with God’s blessing. To fill a similar place in life it will be
necessary for you to work with the same end in view and under the same
auspices.
Will you do it?
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.