THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
About a quarter of a mile to the north of Savareen's abode was a
charming little hostelry, kept by a French Canadian named Jean Baptiste
Lapierre. It was one of the snuggest and cosiest of imaginable inns;
by no means the sort of wayside tavern commonly to be met with in
Western Canada in those times, or even in times much more recent. The
landlord had kept a high-class restaurant in Quebec in the old days
before the union of the Provinces, and piqued himself upon knowing what
was what. He was an excellent cook, and knew how to cater to the
appetites of more exacting epicures than he was likely to number among
his ordinary patrons in a rural community like that in which he had
piched his quarters. When occasion required, he could serve up a dinner
or supper at which Brillat Savarian himself would have had no excuse
for turning up his nose. It was seldom that any such exigeant demand as
this was made upon his skill, but even his ordinary fare was good
enough for any city sir or madam whom chance might send beneath his
roof, and such persons never failed to carry away with them pleasant
remembrances of the place.
The creaking sign which swayed in the breeze before the hospitable door
proclaimed it to be The Royal Oak, but it was commonly known throughout
the whole of that country-side as Lapierre's. The excellence of its
larder was proverbial, insomuch that professional men and others used
frequently to drive out from town expressly to dine or sup there. Once
a week or so--usually on Saturday nights--a few of the choice spirits
thereabouts used to meet in the cosy parlor and hold a decorous sort of
free-and-easy, winding up with supper at eleven o'clock. On these
occasions, as a matter of course, the liquor flowed with considerable
freedom, and the guests had a convivial time of it; but there was
nothing in the shape of wild revelry--nothing to bring reproach upon
the good name of the house. Jean Baptiste had too much regard for his
well-earned reputation to permit these meetings to degenerate into mere
orgies. He showed due respect for the sanctity of the Sabbath, and took
care to make the house clear of company before the stroke of midnight.
By such means he not only kept his guests from indulging in riotous
excesses, but secured their respect for himself and his establishment.
Savareen was a pretty regular attendant at these convivial gatherings,
and was indeed a not infrequent visitor at other times. He always met
with a warm welcome, for he could sing a good song, and paid his score
with commendable regularity. His Saturday nights' potations did not
interfere with his timely appearance on Sunday morning in his pew in
the little church which stood on the hill a short distance above
Lapierre's. His wife usually sat by his side, and accompanied him to
and fro. Everything seemed to indicate that the couple lived happily
together, and that they were mutually blessed in their domestic
relations. With regard to Mrs. Savareen, the only thing necessary to
be mentioned about her at present is that she was the daughter of a
carpenter and builder resident in Millbrook.
There was a good deal of travel on the Millbrook and Spotswood road,
more especially in the autumn, when the Dutch farmers from the
settlements up north used to come down in formidable array, for the
purpose of supplying themselves with fruit to make cider and
"applesass" for the winter. The great apple-producing district of the
Province begins in the townships lying a few miles to the south of
Westchester, and the road between Millbrook and Spotswood was, and is,
the most direct route thither from the Dutch settlements. The garb and
other appointments of the stalwart Canadian Teuton of those days were
such as to make him easily distinguishable from his Celtic or Saxon
neighbor. He usually wore a long, heavy, coat of coarse cloth, reaching
down to his heels. His head was surmounted by a felt hat with a brim
wide enough to have served, at a pinch, for the tent of a side-show.
His wagon was a great lumbering affair, constructed, like himself,
after an ante-diluvian pattern, and pretty nearly capacious enough for
a first-rate man-of-war. In late September and early October it was no
unprecedented thing to see as many as thirty or forty of these
ponderous vehicles moving southward, one at the tail of the other, in a
continuous string. They came down empty, and returned a day or two
afterwards laden with the products of the southern orchards. On the
return journey the wagons were full to overflowing. Not so the drivers,
who were an exceedingly temperate and abstemious people, too
parsimonious to leave much of their specie at the Royal Oak. It was
doubtless for this reason that mine host Lapierre regarded, and was
accustomed to speak of them with a good deal of easy contempt, not to
say aversion. They brought little or no grist to his mill, and he was
fond of proclaiming that he did not keep a hotel for the accommodation
of such _canaille_. The emphasis placed by him on this last word
was something quite refreshing to hear.
The road all the way from Millbrook to Spotswood, corresponds to the
mathematical definition of a straight line. It forms the third
concession of the township, and there is not a curve in it anywhere.
The concessions number from west to east, and the sidelines, running at
right angles to them are exactly two miles apart. At the northwestern
angle formed by the intersection of the gravel road with the first side
line north of Millbrook stood a little toll-gate, kept, at the period
of the story, by one Jonathan Perry. Between the toll-gate and
Savareen's on the same side of the road were several other houses to
which no more particular reference is necessary. On the opposite side
of the highway, somewhat more than a hundred yards north of the
toll-gate, was the abode of a farmer named Mark Stolliver. Half a mile
further up was John Calder's house, which was the only one until you
came to Squire Harrington's. To the rear of the Squire's farm was a
huge morass about fifty acres in extent, where cranberries grew in
great abundance, from which circumstance it was known as Cranberry
Swamp.
Now you have the entire neighborhood before you, and if you will cast
your eye on the following rough plan you will have no difficulty in
taking in the scene at a single glance:--
[Illustration: map of the area described in preceding text]