The second year which I spent at Uncle Nathan's was one which I often
since called to mind as the happiest of my life. The days glided by in
the busy routine of school duties, and my evenings were spent in study
varied by social enjoyment. I was never too busy to respond to grandma's
request that I should leave my lessons or play for an hour and read to
her. I had learned to regard this aged relative with much affection;
even as a child I believe I was of a reflective cast of mind, and
Grandma Adams was the first very old person with whom I had been
intimately associated. And often as I sat by her side and watched the
firelight as it shone upon her silvery hair, and lighted up her
venerable and serene countenance, would I wonder mentally if I would
ever grow as old and feeble and my hair become as white as her's. I
remember one evening when I was indulging in these thoughts the old lady
asked me what I was thinking about that caused me to look so serious? "I
was wondering," replied I, "if I shall live to see as many years, and if
my eyes will become as dim and my air grow white as yours." "My dear
boy," she replied, "I suppose I seem to you like one who has travelled a
long journey. At your age, ten or twenty years seemed to me almost an
endless period of time, but now that I have seen more than eighty years
of life the whole journey seems very short, when taking a backward view
of the path over which I have travelled. It seems but as yesterday
since I was a little mischief-loving school girl, when my only anxiety
was how I could obtain the most play, and get along with the least
study. I used then often to think how glad I would be when my
school-days should be over; but how little did I then realize that I was
then enjoying my happiest days; for, with many others, I now believe,
our school days to be the happiest period of life. Time passed on, till
I grew up, and married. I left my native place which was Salem, in the
State of New Hampshire, and removed to Western Canada. When you look
around, my boy, over this prosperous and growing country, with its
well-cultivated farms, and numerous towns and villages, you can form no
idea of what the place was like when I arrived here, fifty-six years ago
last February. Your grandfather was born, and passed the days of his
childhood and early youth, in Scotland, but when he was nearly grown to
manhood his parents emigrated to the United States, where he resided for
some years; but as he grew older he became prejudiced against the
'Yankee Rule,' as he styled the Republican Government of the United
State, and, soon after our marriage, he resolved to remove to Canada. 'I
desire,' said he, 'to seek a home where I hope to spend my life, be it
long or short, and that home must be in a country subject to the British
Government under which, I am proud to say, I was born, and under which I
wish to die.' I was willing to make any sacrifice to please my husband,
for whom I had a deep affection," and, as grandma said these words,
youthful memories moistened her eyes and caused her voice to tremble,
but she soon regained her composure, and continued: "I was then young
and full of hope, and the trials which I knew would fall to my lot gave
me no anxiety. The weather was bitter cold, during all that weary
journey to our forest home in Canada. We had been married less than a
year when we left our friends in New Hampshire to seek a home in this
new country. The summer before my husband visited the place to purchase
a lot of wild land, and build the log cabin which was to be our first
shelter in the Canadian wilderness. Much as he had told me, I had formed
but a very imperfect idea of the appearance of the place, till after a
ten days' journey (by slow teams) through the deep snows which often
impeded our way, we reached, near nightfall, the small log-hut which was
to be our home. I had ever thought I possessed a good share of fortitude
and resolution, but at that time it was put to a severe test. 'There
Martha, is our home,' said my husband, pointing to the rude pile of
logs, which stood in a cleared space, barely large enough to secure its
safety from falling trees, and beyond all was a dense forest of tall
trees and thick underbrush and a fast falling shower of snow (at the
time) added to the gloominess of the scene. I gazed around me with
sadness, almost with dismay and terror. At length I found voice to say
'_can_ we live _here_.' 'I have no doubt that we can live here, and be
happy too,' replied your grandfather in a hopeful voice, 'if it pleases
God to grant us health and strength to meet and, I trust, overcome, the
difficulties and hardships which are the inevitable lot of the early
settlers in a new country.' A man whom Mr. Adams had hired had gone
before us that we might not find a fireless hearth upon our arrival; and
the next day, after having become somewhat rested from the fatigues of
our toilsome journey, and having arranged our small quantity of
furniture with some attempt at order, I began to feel something akin to
interest in our new home; but, to a person brought up as I had been, it
was certainly a gloomy-looking spot; and I must own that I shed some
tears for the home I had left. We were three miles from any neighbour,
and in the absence of my husband I felt a childish fear of being left
alone in that strange wild looking place. Time would fail me to tell you
of all the hardships and privations we endured during the first years of
our residence in this our new home. Lucinda there was our first child. I
buried a little boy younger than Nathan. A few kind settlers gathered
together and laid him in his grave without a minister to perform the
rites of burial. I buried another son and daughter, and all that's left
to me now are Lucinda and Nathan, and your mother, who was my youngest
child; as my children grew older I learned the value of the tolerable
education I had myself received. For many years such a thing as a school
was out of the question, and all the leisure time I could command I
spent in teaching my children. Nathan was slow at learning, but it did
beat all, how smart Lucinda was at her book. I could never tell how she
learned her letters; I may say she picked them up herself, and with a
very little assistance was soon able to read. Other settlers came among
us from time to time, and bye-and-bye we had both a school and a
meeting-house. I tell you, Walter, when I now sit at the door, and look
around me over the beautiful farms, with their orchards and smooth
meadow-lands, and further away the gleaming spire of the village church,
and hear the sharp shriek of the locomotive (I believe they call it) and
call to mind the log-hut in the depth of the forest, which was, my first
home on this farm, I am lost in wonder at the changes which have taken
place, and I cannot help repeating the words, 'old things have passed
away, behold all things have become new.' Your grandfather lived to a
good old age, and, when infirmities obliged him to resign the care of
the farm to our boy Nathan he enjoyed the fruits of his former industry
in the comforts of a home of plenty, and the care and attention of our
dutiful children. As for me I do not now look forward to a single day.
I have already outlived the period of natural life and feel willing to
depart whenever an all-wise Providence sees fit to remove me; but I
would not be impatient and would say from my very heart: 'All the days
of my appointed time will I wait till my change comes.' And now, Walter,
read to me, for it is past my usual time of retiring to rest." As I
closed the book (after reading for half an hour) Grandma said, "I have
read myself, and heard others read the Bible these many years, yet each
time I listen to a chapter, I discover in it some new beauty which I had
never noticed before. Truly the Bible is a wonderful book; it teaches us
both how to live and how to die."