FAREWELL TO THE BACKWOODS.
My sisters had come into the woods fresh from the lovely village of
Epsom, in Surrey, and accustomed to all the comforts of English life.
Their consternation at the rudeness of the accommodations which we had
considered rather luxurious than otherwise, dispelled all our illusions,
and made us think seriously of moving nearer to Toronto. I was the first
to feel the need of change, and as I had occasionally walked ninety
miles to the city, to draw money for our road contracts, and the same
distance back again, and had gained some friends there, it took me very
little time to make up my mind. My brothers and sisters remained
throughout the following winter, and then removed to a rented farm at
Bradford.
Not that the bush has ever lost its charms for me. I still delight to
escape thither, to roam at large, admiring the stately trees with their
graceful outlines of varied foliage, seeking in their delicious shade
for ferns and all kinds of wild plants, forgetting the turmoil and
anxieties of the business world, and wishing I could leave it behind for
ever and aye. In some such mood it was that I wrote--
"COME TO THE WOODS."[8]
Come to the woods--the dark old woods,
Where our life is blithe and free;
No thought of sorrow or strife intrudes
Beneath the wild woodland tree.
Our wigwam is raised with skill and care
In some quiet forest nook;
Our healthful fare is of ven'son rare,
Our draught from the crystal brook.
In summer we trap the beaver shy,
In winter we chase the deer,
And, summer or winter, our days pass by
In honest and hearty cheer.
And when at the last we fall asleep
On mother earth's ancient breast,
The forest-dirge deep shall o'er us sweep,
And lull us to peaceful rest.
[Footnote 8: These lines were set to music by the late J. P. Clarke,
Mus. Bac. of Toronto University, in his "Songs of Canada."]