MIRREN AND ARCHIE
A shepherd's wage is small, and grows smaller as age creeps on. The
young and active get the preference and the old have to take a lower fee
at each hiring fair to secure employment. That was the experience of
Archie's father. At the best, it had been only with thrift ends could be
got to meet, but as he aged it was a struggle. The children had to help.
Archie hired with a farmer and in time rose to be ploughman; Mirren
after learning to be a dressmaker, found to be in service was
preferable. What they could spare of their earnings it was their pride
to give in order to keep a home for their parents. While still a boy
Archie had shaped in his little head a plan of going to Canada, where
there was a possibility of becoming independent, and had begun early to
try and save enough to take him across the Atlantic. He had fixed on $50
as the sum he must have, but found, with all the self-denial he could
exercise, difficult to scrape together. Emergencies arose that required
his breaking in on his little hoard of savings, and spring after spring
he was disappointed in being unable to sail. His sister encouraged him.
Like him, she was determined to break with the conditions that bound
them in the chain of poverty. On Sunday afternoons, when they met, their
talk was of the future that awaited them across the sea. It was not for
themselves they planned and saved. Their ambition was to give a
comfortable home to their parents, for they foresaw that, unless Archie
carved a farm out of the Canadian bush, they would end in becoming a
charge to the parish, which was revolting to them and which they knew
would break their parents' hearts. Of all misfortunes that can overtake
them, to the independent-minded Scot the acceptance of poor relief is
the lowest degradation conceivable. It was in the month of March, the
time when ships were getting ready for the St Lawrence, that brother and
sister had an anxious consultation. Archie had $40. Would he venture to
go on that amount? The risk of longer delay, the doubt if another
twelvemonth would increase the sum, were considered. Archie was for
risking all--he wanted to end their suspense. 'Go,' replied the sister,
'father might not be able to stand the voyage if we waited two years
more,' and so it was settled.
While Archie had been scraping together the money needed for his
passage, his mother and sister had been doing what they could to provide
his outfit. The mother span and knitted stockings, a chest was got, and
shirts and other clothing cut and sewed. To eke out the ship-rations
provisions must be had, and in this neighbors helped--the wife of the
farmer he worked for presented him with a cheese, she called it a
kebbuck, and his father's master insisted on his accepting two stone of
meal, part of which was baked into oatcakes. The step Archie was to take
was not only serious but dangerous, for many ships in those days were
wrecked, a few never heard of, and the fear that he might not reach
Canada oppressed those who bade him good-by. The morning he left was
trying. He kept a cheery countenance and was profuse in his expressions
of confidence of success and that before long they would be re-united.
The father, sternly repressing his emotions in parting with his only
son, wrung his hand. 'When I am on the hillside alone with the yowes I
will be praying God may be with you--when you are in the bush, will you
not be praying for us?' 'That I will, father.' 'Then,' said the old man,
'though the ocean roll between us we will be united in spirit.' Taking
his watch out of his pocket, the father held it out. 'No, no,' said
Archie, 'I cannot take your watch.' 'You must take it; my companion for
many a year it will cheer you in the woods, and keep you in mind of the
promise you have just made.' The sister went with him to the turn of the
road. She treasured his last words and they were her comfort. 'Mirren, I
have covenanted with God, that I will never forget our father and mother
and will do all that in me lies to help and comfort them.' He strode on
his way to Greenock, whither his chest had gone by the carrier.
The ship made a good voyage and in time he got to Toronto, where, with
some trouble, he was given a location-ticket for a lot. Bargaining with
a teamster who was taking a load to a settlement in the neighborhood of
his lot, to leave his chest on his way, he started on foot. It was well
he did, for from what he saw on the road he learnt much of what settlers
have to do. He watched the chopping of trees, the making of potash, the
hoeing in of the first crop, and the building of shanties, for in
succession he came upon settlers engaged in all these operations, and he
was not backward in asking questions, or slow in observing. The
afternoon of the second day he reached where the local land-agent lived.
There was a small gristmill, a sawmill, a blacksmith shop, an ashery and
half a dozen houses, all rudely built, planted in a surrounding of
stumps, with the bush encircling all. Asking at the largest shanty for
Mr Magarth, the woman he spoke to pointed to a man, bareheaded and in
his shirtsleeves, piling boards. On hearing his business Magarth said,
'You're the man whose chest was left here yesterday. Well, it is too
late in the day to show you what lot you have been given. Can you
count?' On being told he could, Magarth got a shingle and a piece of
chalk and told him to mark down as he called out the measurements of the
boards. On finishing the pile, Archie reported the number of feet. 'Just
what I guessed,' said Magarth, 'now come with me.' He led to the door of
an extension at the end of his house, which Archie saw was a primitive
shop, there being, in a confused heap, everything settlers could call
for. Explaining his daughter who kept his books was on a visit to
Toronto, he handed Archie an account-book and asked him to write down
the entries he would call off. Seated on an empty box and smoking,
Magarth recalled all the transactions since the last entry on the book,
which Archie set down, astonished at the accuracy of the memory of the
man, who gave dates, names, and quantities with as much ease as if
reading them from a list before him. This done, he got him to fill out
his report to the crown lands department, to write several letters to
the firms he dealt with in Toronto, and one to his daughter, which was
original in matter and expression. Archie recognized the shrewdness and
ability of this unlettered man, who carried on with ease several lines
of business in addition to his farm. After supper he made Archie sit
beside him and asked if he would not give up his notion of taking up
land and hire with him. Finding he was determined to have a home of his
own, Magarth gave him much advice as to how he should begin, not
concealing, on learning he had only a few dollars, that he was sure he
would fail. After breakfast Magarth told him what he could not do
without, and laid in a bundle an ax, a saw, a spokeshave, an auger, a
hammer, nails, and would have added a grindstone had there been any way
of carrying it. 'You'll have to come out to us when your ax needs
grinding.' In a pail he put some flour, peas, and a lump of pork, tying
a frying-pan to the handle. 'But I have not money enough to pay for all
this,' said Archie. 'I know you haven't,' was the reply, 'you are to pay
me in ashes.' Sending a man with him to point out the lot, and to stay
long enough to help to raise a shelter, Archie started. Their way lay
across the country, through a dense forest, for the concession his lot
was on lay to the north and no side road had been opened to it. His
guide, whose name was Dennis, had his ax over his shoulder and blazed
the trees as they tramped on their way. Archie wondered why he should
have been given a lot so far back when they were going over so much land
that was unoccupied. Finally Dennis halted, and, after a little
searching for surveyor's posts, which were not hard to find, for the
concession had been laid out within a year, he showed Archie his limits.
'The road allowance is here,' said Dennis, 'and if I were you I would
put my shanty close to it, cut the logs for it off the allowance, and
kill two birds with one stone, make a beginning on your road and have a
shanty.' Archie was willing but made a poor fist in felling trees, and
before an hour his hands were blistered. Dennis left to him the rolling
of the logs to the chosen site and notching their corners. At noon they
rested, Dennis lighting a fire and showing Archie how to cook flour
cakes and fry pork at the same time. Towards nightfall a like meal was
cooked, and creeping into a thicket of cedars they were soon fast
asleep. Next morning Dennis picked out ash-trees and hickories small
enough to make handspikes and skids and the rearing of the shanty
began. It was small, 10 by 12 feet, in front 7 feet high sloping
backward. Showing how to lay poles to make a roof, and cover them with
sheets of elm and basswood bark, Dennis left while there was daylight
enough to show him the way. Archie was alone, buried in the bush, yet
was in high spirits. The land he stood on he owned. Everything had gone
well with him so far and he looked with steady confidence into the
future. When the shanty was finished he had to admit it was only a
hovel, which he would replace by one fit to be the home of the father
and mother whose figures were often before his mind's eye. With hands
still tender, he went on felling trees, selecting the smaller, and when
he had got a heap together he set fire, for he needed a clearance in
which he wanted to plant potatoes. On Saturday coming he left for
Magarth's, for he had promised to post up his accounts of the week. On
finishing all Magarth had to do, Archie wrote his mother. When he landed
at Montreal he had sent a letter to his father telling of the voyage and
his safe arrival. Now he had to send them word of his having got a lot
and that he had made a start in clearing it. Sunday the little hamlet
was deserted. The hired men had gone to visit friends and had taken
Magarth's boys with them. 'Tis the only outing they get,' explained
Magarth, who was surprised on Archie's preparing to return to his
shanty, for he expected he would stay till evening. Not wishing to be
beholden too much to his kind friend, he shouldered what supplies he had
bought the night before and started. Among the supplies was a hoe and a
bag of potatoes to plant amid the stumps.
The routine of his daily life was monotonous--up with the sun to attack
the trees which stood between him and a livelihood. It was lonely but he
never grew despondent. Singing, whistling, shouting, he kept at his
work. Two of the songs of Burns were his favorites--a Man's a Man for a'
that and Scots wha hae. On coming to the line, Liberty with every blow,
he drove his ax into the tree with vim, and, indeed, the trees at that
time were the enemies he had to fight. Saturdays he went to Magarth's to
do what writing he might have, for his daughter was in no hurry to leave
Toronto. Each Monday found Archie more handy with the ax, and neither
heat nor mosquitoes caused him to slacken in extending his clearance.
Wet days alone made him take rest in his shanty, in a corner of which
was his bed of hemlock boughs and fern leaves. When summer waned and the
nights grew cold the lack of a chimney in his shanty made living in it
intolerable, for the smoke circulated round until it found the hole in
the roof intended for its escape. He thought over plans to get a
chimney, but could hit on none that he could carry out without some one
to help him. From time to time he had burnings of brush-heaps, storing
the ashes in a hole he had dug in the side of a hillock and covering
them with big sheets of bark to keep them dry. The end of September, on
making his customary visit to Magarth's, he found a letter waiting for
him. It was from his sister, who expressed the delight they felt on
hearing of his having got a farm and built a house, and how his letter,
like the one he had mailed from Montreal, had passed from house to house
until everybody in the parish had read them, and they had raised quite a
'furore' about Canada and of emigration to its woods, for the
acquisition of farms of their own dazzled all. Father and mother were
well and were kept in good spirits by anticipating the day when they
would be able to join him in his fine house. He read the letter a
hundred times and vowed anew he would not turn aside until those it came
from were beside him.
On speaking to Magarth of the store of ashes he had saved and of the
slash of trees that were ready for burning, it was arranged he would
send two men if Archie would clear a way through the woods by which a
one ox-sled could pass. His frequent comings and goings across the lot
had made a foot-path, but there were decayed logs to push aside, brush
to cut here and there, and a few branches that hung low. It took three
days' work before he was satisfied a sled would have free passage. On a
Monday morning the men with the sled and oxen appeared and the burning
began. There had been a month's drouth, so the burning went well, and
when the men went back at nights the big box on the sled was filled with
ashes. At Magarth's the ashes were measured in a bushel box and emptied
into the leaches that stood beside the creek. On coming to square
accounts the ashes paid what Archie was due and left a few dollars to
his credit. Taking advantage of the return trips of the sled, he had got
his chest taken to his shanty, a quantity of short boards to make a door
and a bed, a bag of seed wheat, and a grindstone. Elated by his progress
he went to the scraping and hoeing of his clearance with a will, lifted
his potatoes, pitted them, and sowed all his seed-wheat. Then he tackled
enlarging his clearance and his daily task was again felling trees. The
weather was now often cold. He chinked the shanty but with a gaping hole
in the roof to let out the smoke it made little difference, and often he
could not get to sleep for shivering. To light a fire made it worse,
for, not being used to it, he could not stand the smoke, which choked
him and made his eyes smart. The second week in November there came a
frosty snap. Before shouldering his ax he had put the potatoes and bit
of pork he intended for dinner in a tin pail and buried it in hot ashes
to slowly cook. When he came back late in the afternoon, cold and tired
and hungry, he opened the pail and found it full of cinders. The heat
had been too great. For the first time he lost heart, and starting up,
with what daylight remained, made his way to Magarth's, where supper and
a welcome awaited him. The daughter having been back for some time, he
had given up his Saturday visits. She was big and plump, and like her
father voluble and fond of a joke. When all the others had retired for
the night, Magarth and Archie sat by the fire. Magarth guessed how it
was going with Archie and told him he could not stand out the winter.
Then, with kindly humor, he gave Archie to understand that if he and
Norah would make it up, he would take him as a partner in his business,
which was growing too large for him to manage alone. Archie was
astounded, making no reply beyond thanking him for the hint. When he
turned into a bunk in the corner of the store he was so tired that he
fell asleep and dreamt not of Norah but of the daily misery he was
enduring.
In the morning Archie rose and, without waking anybody, slipped out and
made his way to his comfortless shanty. Those who love the forest know
in how many tones it speaks, varying with the season and the force of
the wind. When in full leaf and swayed by a summer breeze the sound is
of falling water, of a phantom Niagara; in the winter, when the trees
are bare, the Northwest blast shrieks through their tops and there are
groanings diversified by sharp cries as some decayed branch is snapped
or tree falls. It was amid these doleful sounds Archie swung his ax. He
was not conscious of the bitter cold for his work kept him warm, but his
brain was full of racking thoughts. He had toiled like a slave for nigh
six months and had accomplished little, with every imaginable
deprivation he had saved nothing, and for the next six months he foresaw
cold and hunger, which he doubted he could survive. Here was an offer
that meant comfort, and relief from a penniless condition. Should he not
accept it? Was it not selfishness that whispered his doing so? Did he
not come to these woods to hew out from the heart of them a home for
those he loved? Was he going to throw up his purpose to benefit himself?
Would that be right? There was a whisper, You will be able to help them
by sending money. Is money-help all they can claim from me? Is sending
them so many dollars a month all the command to honor father and mother
means? Do they not desire to be beside me and is it not my duty to
sustain and comfort them while life lasts? Shall I place other cares
between them and me, leaving them second instead of first? So he went on
arguing mentally, until the larger consideration came uppermost, Was it
justifiable to marry a woman for whom he had no special regard, because
by so doing it would be to his worldly advantage? Then he, for the first
time in his life, tried to define what marriage was. Was marriage for
comfort and ease such a union as his conscience could approve? It was a
searching question, and while he swung the ax he argued it aloud. What
was marriage without love? No marriage, he shouted, as his ax delved
into the side of a tree. Love alone can blend two lives, and without
love marriage is sacrilege. No, he would not think of Magarth's offer,
he would cast it behind him, and go on as he was doing. Then peace came
to him, and he dwelt on the communings with his sister, and the pledge
he had given her on parting. For the first time that day he began to
sing, and when he sat on a log to eat the bread he had brought for his
dinner, he threw crumbs to a squirrel that left her hole to survey him.
Two days later he found he would have to go to Magarth's to get the
steel of his ax renewed, for it had chipped. He found only Mrs Magarth
at home, her husband and Norah had left on a visit. In the store were
two men, and he listened to their talk with interest, for one was
telling how a thriving nearby settlement had built a school and were
unable to find a teacher. Asking the name of the man who had the
engaging of one, and where he lived, Archie's resolution was made, he
would go and offer himself. A tramp of over a mile brought him to the
house. In five minutes he was engaged at a salary of six dollars a month
and to board round. The engagement was for four months. He spent the
night with the settler and left in the morning to get what clothes he
needed and to set his shanty in order. Word had gone round that a
teacher had been secured, and on his return in the afternoon there were
several callers curious to see him. His host was a North of Ireland man,
with a large family, who he was determined should learn to read and
write. He had been the leader in the building of the school-house, to
which he walked with Archie the following forenoon. It was a log
building, about twenty feet square. There were no desks and the seats
were plank set on blocks of wood. Every child able to walk was there
full of curiosity as to what school was like. Archie's difficulties
began at once. Not one of the would-be scholars had a book of any kind;
those who said they wanted to learn to write had no paper and no slates.
Had they anything they could recite from memory? A little girl forthwith
began, Now I lay me down to sleep. With great patience, Archie taught
them the first verse of the 23rd psalm, and, trying if they could sing
it, found there were several good voices. He felt encouraged. Telling
them to bring books of any kind next day, he ended the lessons by one in
arithmetic, using the fingers. The second day was better. The children
came with all kinds of books except school-books, mostly bibles. One
girl had a copy of the crown lands rules and regulations. Only six could
read a sentence by spelling each word. They had to be started from the
beginning, and Archie had provided for that by producing a smoothly
planed board on which he had printed, with a carpenter's pencil, the
alphabet on one side and figures on the other. The children, with a few
exceptions, were eager to learn. Then he got them to memorize the second
verse of the 23rd psalm, and taught them a simple hymn, singing both.
They were strong on singing, and a boy volunteered to give them a song
he had heard, which had a chorus of Derry Down. So it went on. A supply
of smooth shaved shingles was got and with bits of chalk the scholars
learned to write simple words and cast up sums. At the close of each day
Archie told them a story and questioned to see how much of it they
remembered and understood. At the end of a fortnight three of the
settlers visited to see how matters were progressing and left satisfied.
Shifting his boarding-place each Saturday Archie came to know the
settlers intimately, and perceived how little outside their daily toil
there was to engage their minds. He proposed a singing-class for the
young fellows and the girls, and set a date for the first meeting. The
evening came and there was so great a crowd that the school could not
hold them so a number clustered round the open door. Archie knew nothing
about musical notation, but he had a good voice and a great store of
songs. The difficulty was knowledge of the words, which he overcame by
singing whatever any number of them knew and by repeating in concert
verse by verse before he raised the tune. On the novelty wearing off a
number ceased to come, but no matter how cold or stormy was the night
the schoolhouse was filled by young people who heartily enjoyed those
two evenings in the week. On a preacher arranging to hold a fortnightly
service, they applied themselves to learning hymns. Without knowing it,
Archie had become popular. Taking pleasure in his work the winter passed
quickly. As his term drew towards its close there was a move to show him
some substantial token of regard. There being little money, it took the
form of a donation in kind, so, on leaving the third week of March, he
was driven to his shanty in a sled laden with parcels of flour, lumps of
pork, butter, cookies, doughnuts, and the like. His small wage had been
paid him and out of it he sent $15 to his mother.
His shanty he found buried in snow, the drift against its west end
overtopping it. Everything was as he had left it, and when he had dug
away the snow and got at the potatoes he had pitted he was glad to find
them untouched by frost. He again assailed the trees but in a different
spirit from the day when he had left. He was again hopeful of conquering
and there was much to encourage him. The weather was milder and the
daylight longer. More than anything else that cheered him on to his
lonely task was the spring sunshine. It was awakening new life in the
forest, and why not in him? On the size of his clearing depended whether
he would be able to have his parents and sister join him when spring
returned next year, and so, early and late, he attacked the trees. The
only break in his toil was when he had to go to Magarth's for something
he could not do without and those few hours of social talk were sweet to
the solitary man. Not the least interesting topic he heard was that
Norah was engaged to a wealthy produce-dealer in Toronto.
On leaving the settlement where he had taught school, the young fellows
told him to send them word when he was ready to burn, and they would
come and help him. The middle of May he walked to attend the preaching
there, and before leaving next morning had arranged they should come the
following Monday. The number who flocked into his clearance astonished
him, for almost every acquaintance he had saluted him. They came with
ox-sleds and chains and, what surprised him beyond measure, was three
women in one of the sleds who had come to make dinner and took
possession of his shanty. They worked with a will. The logs were hauled
and built into heaps and fire set, and every art the backwoodsman knows
was used to make them burn. As ashes were scraped they were shovelled
into the boxes on the sleds and started for Magarth's, returning with
small loads of boards. With so many hands the small clearance was, late
in the afternoon, put in such a shape that Archie and two men who
remained could do the rest. Before the week was out, he had oats and
peas sown, and a patch reserved for corn and potatoes. At Magarth's $10
had been placed to his credit for ashes delivered.
As he was cooking his breakfast Archie was surprised by a sound at a
distance which he recognized as the strokes of an ax. Listening with
rapt attention, there came, in a few minutes, the familiar crash of a
tree falling. 'That means I have got a neighbor: somebody has taken a
lot at the end of the concession,' said Archie, and he set about his
day's work in high spirits. It was as fine a day as a June day can be,
and there is no finer the world over. The brilliant blue of the sky was
brought out by a few snowy cloudlets drifting before a gentle breeze,
which tempered the warmth of the glorious sunshine. The heart of the
young man was glad and found expression in song and whistling as he
wielded the ax. What caused him to pause in blank astonishment? From the
woods behind him, came a voice singing 'O whistle and I will come to
you my lad.' It was a woman's voice, it was a familiar voice. Dropping
his ax he bounded towards the figure emerging from the bush where the
sled-road entered his clearance. 'It is my own sister!' he shouted in a
scream of joy, and clasped her in his brawny arms. 'O, Mirren, have you
dropped from the sky? I would have as soon expected to meet an angel.'
'I am just a sonsy Ayrshire lass and have come on my feet and not on
wings. Eh, but you've changed--ye've worked over hard.'
'It has been sweet work, for it was for father and mother. Nothing wrong
with them that sent you here?'
'I left them well, and hoping to join us next spring.'
'And how did you come--what started you--where did you get the passage
money--how did you find your way here?'
'I'll tell you after I have seen this grand house of yours. An' this is
the shanty you wrote about with everything out and inside
higgle-de-piggeldy! Ye are a great housekeeper to be sure. Why, your
house has not got a lum! (chimney). Did you have breakfast yet? Poor
fellow, no wonder your cheeks are thin.'
'Never mind, Mirren, I have planned a new house and with your help it
will soon be built.'
'That it will, Archie; it is to help you I have come.'
Sitting side by side on a pile of boards, Mirren told how she had come.
On Archie's letter reaching his mother with three pounds enclosed she
saw the possibility of Mirren going to Canada. 'The passage money is
four pounds, mother, and there is the buying of what cannot be done
without. We will have to wait for another remittance.'
'Listen, and I will tell you what I never even let on to your father.
When he had that accident six years ago that laid him up and we feared
he would never go to the hills again, the thought came to me that if he
died the parish would have to bury him. I set it down that no such
disgrace would ever fall on our family if I could help it, and when he
got better I set to put-by every penny that could be spared, and many a
hank I have spun and stocking knitted to get the pennies. After thinking
over Archie's letter, I counted what I put by and I have one pound,
seven shillings, and tenpence. Your passage, you see, is paid.'
'But I dare not leave you alone.'
'Mirren, you will do as your mother asks you. Your brother needs help:
go, and we will follow you a year sooner.'
'I thought it all over,' said Mirren, 'and it was settled I should go.
It was quite a venture for a young lass to go alone so far, but I was
not afraid, seeing there were the plain markings of what was my duty. So
we set to work to get ready, and here I am.'
'Bless you, Mirren, you have a brave heart and God helping us, we will
have father and mother with us in another twelve month, and the black
dog. Want will never frighten them more.'
Mirren was curious to see what Archie had been doing, but he took her
first to the rising ground, back in the bush, where he had decided to
build his house, and then showed her his crops. The rest of the day he
spent in cutting and setting up poles to make a shelter that would serve
as a cookhouse during the day and a sleeping-place for himself at night.
At supper she told of her journey, of the voyage, the slow ascent of the
St Lawrence, and the steamboat that landed her at Toronto. The mate
undertook to forward her chest, and pointed out Yonge-street, at the
head of the wharf. Without a minute's delay she gained it and began her
long walk. Late in the day she asked at a shanty that stood beside the
road how far she was from the corner where she had to turn. The woman,
on hearing where she was going, said she could not be there before dark
and asked her to stay overnight. Her husband with the two oldest of the
family had gone to visit his uncle and she was alone with the younger
children. Mirren gladly took her offer and tarried next morning to help
in cutting and fitting a dress for one of the girls. There were many
wagons on the road, but all were loaded with the baggage of immigrants,
who, men, women, and all except the very young, trudged their weary way
behind or alongside of them. It was late in the afternoon when Magarth's
was reached. On telling her name, she was cordially welcomed. In the
morning she was shown the sledroad that led to the lot of her brother.
The first sign that she was near him was hearing his whistling. Of the
money she had started with she had still $2.25.
With daylight next day they started to work. Mirren insisted on taking
an ax with her and began brushing the trees Archie had felled. He
remonstrated that it was not woman's work. Her reply was, she had come
to help him and she was going to do so. 'Well, then,' he said, 'we will
go to the spot where the house is to be built and work there.' On the
evening arriving on which the preacher visited the schoolhouse, they
both set out to attend the service.' Mirren had a welcome that
astonished her, and when they heard her sing her welcome was redoubled.
Archie's friend insisted on their staying until next day. It was late
that night before Mirren got to bed, for the neighbors crowded to speak
with her and hear her sing. As they walked to their humble home next
forenoon, Mirren expressed her amazement at the heartiness with which
she had been received, remarking it was her first experience with the
Irish. In reply Archie said we ought to judge people as we find them
putting away all prejudices. His sojourn among them during the winter
had made him ashamed of his misconceptions--you have to come close to
people to estimate their worth, and he could say from his soul, 'God
bless the Irish: kinder hearts do not beat in human breasts,' and told
Mirren what they had done for him.
The ox-sled that brought Mirren's chest also brought a crosscut saw, and
they tried it at once in cutting the logs for the new shanty. Archie's
saying he did not like to see her pulling the saw, brought out the
retort that she would not do it for other house than one for father and
mother. That summer was the happiest they had ever known. Their toil was
exhausting but the purpose of it and their mutual company bore them up.
To hear them singing and joking it would be thought felling trees and
sawing them into log lengths was a recreation. Such progress was made
that a bee for the raising was set for the end of August, for the season
had been early and grain was harvested. It was a bee that was the talk
of the neighborhood for months afterwards. Young and old came, more with
a desire to help the brave lassie who had won their hearts than for
Archie's sake, well-liked as he was. With her watching them, the young
men vied with one another and never did log walls mount faster nor
rafters span them than when they had reached their height. On a green
maple branch being stuck in a gable peak to indicate progress, a wild
huroo arose that woke the forest echoes. When the bee broke up all the
rough work was done; what was left Archie could do himself with the aid
of a carpenter and mason, for a regular fireplace and chimney needed the
latter.
The brother and sister agreed that a less remittance than ten pounds
would not do to bring their parents to Canada, and how to raise the $50
was a subject of concern to them. What produce they had to spare would
fetch little. Their perplexity was relieved at the close of October by
a visit from two men, who had come to find out if Archie would again, be
their schoolmaster. There were more families now and more scholars and
they would pay $7 a month and board round. He hesitated, he could not
leave his sister alone. 'Take the offer,' she eagerly cried, 'I will go
to the settlement with you.' 'What would you do there?' 'You forget,
Archie, I learned dressmaking. I will cut and fit and add a little to
our savings.' The second week in November the school was opened, this
time under better conditions, for a storekeeper had brought books and
slates, and Archie fetched with him a blackboard he had contrived to put
together. With the day-school the singing school was resumed, to which
Mirren added fresh interest. She got all the work she could do, for few
of the women knew how to cut clothes for their children, let alone for
themselves, and were glad to pay for cutting and fitting, doing the
sewing at home. The winter sped quickly and the middle of March saw
brother and sister back to their clearance and to the felling of trees.
On counting their earnings in February they found they were able to send
to their parents the desired ten pounds, with the urgent advice to take
the first ship. How they would do on arriving at Toronto perplexed them,
until Mr Magarth gave them the address of his son-in-law to enclose in
their letter, assuring them Norah would care for them and see to their
finishing their journey. When June came Mirren expected them each day
and made every preparation for their reception. The spot in the bush
where the sled-road ended and by which they must come, she watched with
unflagging eagerness, but day after day passed and July came without
their appearance. She was stooping in the garden cutting greens for
dinner when a voice behind her asked, 'Hoo is a' wi' ye, Mirren?' With a
scream of joy she clasped her father and mother. A loud shout brought
Archie from the end of the clearance where he was at work with the ax.
The reward of their toil and strivings had come at last, they were once
again a re-united family. In the evening they sat in front of their new
shanty, the clearance before them filled with crops that half-hid the
stumps and promised abundance. 'Praise God,' exclaimed the old shepherd
as he reverently raised his bonnet, 'we are at last independent and need
call no man master.' For his age he was strong and active and his
assistance made Archie independent of outside help. The four working
together, and working intelligently and with a purpose, speedily placed
them on the road to prosperity.
* * * * *
One defect in the backwoods life troubled the conscience of the old
shepherd, and that was the practical disregard for religious
observances. He was not satisfied with occasional services and, when
harvesting was over, made a house-to-house visit to see if sufficient
money could be got to mend the situation. Nobody said him nay yet none
gave him the encouragement he had hoped. In the Old Land the only free
contributions they had made for religious purposes was the penny dropped
on the plate on Sunday, so the appeal to make a sacrifice to secure
stated ordinances, was to them a novelty. An Englishman asked, 'When had
the King become unable to pay the parson?' His visits also made him
aware that there were many children unbaptised and that not one of those
who told him they were church members had received the communion since
they had left the Old Country. His resolution was taken--he would go to
Toronto and seek out a minister, he did not care of what denomination,
to spend a week or more in this new but fast-growing cluster of
settlements. Though they did not say so to him, the settlers thought his
errand a crazy one. As chance would have it, he did happen on a man as
zealous for the cause as himself and with no pressing engagement for the
time being. On his arriving he started with the shepherd on a round of
visits, exhorting and baptizing, and announcing he would celebrate the
Lord's supper, the last Sunday before his return to Toronto. So many
promised to come that it was seen the school-house could not hold them.
The minister fell in with the suggestion that the meeting be held
out-of-doors and there were men found who agreed to make ready. It was
now October, and the trees, as if conscious of their departure for their
long sleep, arrayed themselves in glorious apparel to welcome the rest
that awaited them. The spot selected for the meeting was the wide ravine
hollowed out by the creek that flowed sluggishly at the bottom. On the
flat that edged the east side of the creek planks were laid on trestles
to form the table, while the people were expected to sit under the trees
on the sloping bank that rose from it. From an early hour the people
began coming. Word had spread far beyond the houses visited, and there
were a few who had walked ten miles and over. The solemnity of the
occasion was heightened by the weather. Not a breath stirred the air and
the yellow or scarlet leaves that flecked the glassy surface of the
creek had fluttered downward because their time for parting with the
branches had come. A bluish haze tempered the rays of the sun, which was
mounting a cloudless sky. When the minister rose to begin, he faced a
motley crowd, for while all had done their best to be clean and neat,
with rare exceptions, all were in their every day dress, worn and
patched, for to get clothes is one of the difficulties of the new-come
settlers. There were few aged, for the young and active lead the way
into the bush. There were women with babes in their arms, and there were
many children, gazing with open-eyed curiosity. The hundredth psalm was
given out and the silence of the woods was broken by a volume of melody.
The reading from St John where is told the institution of the last
supper, was followed by a prayer of thanksgiving, that even in the
forest-wilderness heaven's manna was to be found by those who seek for
it, with passionate entreaty for forgiveness and cleanness of heart.
Then singing and the sermon, a loving call to remember heavenly things
in the eager seeking for what is needed for the body; the old truth that
God is a spirit and can be approached only by each individual spirit,
that no man, whatever his pretensions, can come between the soul and its
Maker, and no ceremony or oblation effect reconcilement. The invitation
to come to the table was that all who loved the Lord should do so.
Slowly and reverently those who responded moved downward to take their
seats on a bench fronting the table of a single plank. Looking across
the creek there faced them a luxuriant vine, clinging high on the trees
that supported its mass of purple foliage. Amid these surroundings of
Nature the love of Him who condemned formalism and who was simplicity's
very essence, was recalled. When the parting song was sung, and the
people began to leave to attend the home-duties that could not wait, the
old shepherd expressed himself satisfied that seed had been sown that
would bear fruit, and so it did.
THE END
Lines on the Gordon Sellar who was drowned in his boyhood
O that day of desolation!
O that hour of dumb despair!
Why, instead, was I not taken--
The fading leaf the bud to spare?
Why thy joyous life thus ended?
Why wert born thus to die?
Whither hast thy spirit wended--
Here a moment then to fly?
Come, O Faith, in all thy gladness,
Lift me high above my woe;
Leave with God this hour of darkness,
Seeking not the cause to know.
Nevermore, my son, I'll clasp thee,
Nevermore thy voice I'll hear.
Till I scan the towers of Salem
See thee and the Saviour dear.
* * * * *
HISTORY OF THE SETTLEMENT of the Counties of Huntingdon, Chateauguay,
and Beauharnois, 584 pp. $2.
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