"Now where the wave, with loud, unquiet song,
Dashed o'er the rocky channel, froths along,
Or where the silver waters soothed to rest,
The tree's tall shadow sleeps upon its breast."
--COLERIDGE.
The Indian camp remained for nearly three weeks on this spot, and then
early one morning the wigwams were all taken down, and the canoes, six
in number, proceeded up the river. There was very little variety in
the scenery to interest Catharine. The river still kept its
slow-flowing course between low shores thickly clothed with trees,
without an opening through which the eye might pierce to form an idea
of the country beyond; not a clearing, not a sight or sound of
civilized man was there to be seen or heard; the darting flight of the
wild birds as they flitted across from one side to the other, the
tapping of the woodpecker, or shrill cry of the blue jay was all that
was heard, from sunrise to sunset, on that monotonous voyage. After
many hours, a decided change was perceived in the current, which ran
at a considerable increase of swiftness, so that it required the
united energy of both men and women to keep the light vessels from
drifting down the river again. They were in the rapids, and it was
hard work to stem the tide and keep the upward course of the waters.
At length the rapids were passed, and the weary Indian voyagers rested
for a space on the bosom of a small but tranquil lake. The rising moon
shed her silvery light upon the calm water, and heaven's stars shone
down into its quiet depths, as the canoes with their dusky freight
parted the glittering rays with their light paddles. As they proceeded
onward the banks rose on either side, still fringed with pines,
cedars, and oaks. At an angle of the lake the banks on either side ran
out into two opposite peninsulas, forming a narrow passage or gorge,
contracting the lake once more into the appearance of a broad river,
much wider from shore to shore than any other part they had passed
through since they had left the entrance at the Rice Lake.
Catharine became interested in the change of scenery; her eye dwelt
with delight on the forms of glorious spreading oaks and lofty pines,
green cliff-like shores, and low wooded islands; while, as they
proceeded, the sound of rapid-flowing waters met her ear, and soon the
white and broken eddies, rushing along with impetuous course, were
seen by the light of the moon; and while she was wondering if the
canoes were to stem those rapids, at a signal from the old chief, the
little fleet was pushed to shore on a low flat of emerald verdure,
nearly opposite to the last island.
Here, under the shelter of some beautiful spreading black oaks, the
women prepared to set up their wigwams. They had brought the poles and
birch-bark covering from the encampment below, and soon all was bustle
and business, unloading the canoes and raising the tents. Even
Catharine lent a willing hand to assist the females in bringing up the
stores and sundry baskets containing fruits and other small wares. She
then kindly attended to the Indian children--certain dark-skinned
babes, who, bound upon their wooden cradles, were either set up
against the trunks of the trees, or swung to some lowly depending
branch, there to remain helpless and uncomplaining spectators of the
scene.
Catharine thought these Indian babes were almost as much to be pitied
as herself, only that they were unconscious of their imprisoned state,
having from birth been used to no better treatment, and moreover they
were sure to be rewarded by the tender caresses of loving mothers when
the season of refreshment and repose arrived but she, alas! was
friendless and alone, bereft of father, mother, kindred, and friends.
One Father, one Friend, poor Catharine, thou hadst, even he, the
Father of the fatherless.
That night, when the women and children were sleeping, Catharine stole
out of the wigwam, and climbed the precipitous bank beneath the
shelter of which the lodges had been erected. She found herself upon a
grassy plain, studded with majestic oaks and pines, so beautifully
grouped that they might have been planted by the hand of taste upon
that velvet turf. It was a delightful contrast to those dense dark
forests through which for so many many miles the waters of the
Otonabee had flowed on monotonously; here it was all wild and free,
dashing along like a restive steed rejoicing in its liberty, uncurbed
and tameless.
Yes, here it was beautiful! Catharine gazed with joy upon the rushing
river, and felt her own heart expand as she marked its rapid course as
it bounded murmuring and fretting over its rocky bed. "Happy, glorious
waters! you are not subject to the power of any living creature; no
canoe can ascend those surging waves. I would that I too, like thee,
were free to pursue my onward way; how soon would I flee away and be
at rest!" Such thoughts passed through the mind of the lonely captive
girl, as she sat at the foot of a giant oak, and looked abroad over
those moonlit waters, till oppressed by an overwhelming sense of the
utter loneliness of the scene, the timid girl with faltering step
hurried down once more to the wigwams, silently crept to the mat where
her bed was spread, and soon forgot all her woes and wanderings in
deep, tranquil sleep.
Catharine wondered that the Indians in erecting their lodges always
seemed to prefer the low, level, and often swampy grounds by the lakes
and rivers in preference to the higher and more healthy elevations. So
disregardful are they of this circumstance, that they do not hesitate
to sleep where the ground is saturated with moisture. They will then
lay a temporary flooring of cedar or any other bark beneath their
feet, rather than remove the tent a few feet higher up, where a drier
soil may always be found. This arises either from stupidity or
indolence, perhaps from both, but it is no doubt the cause of much of
the sickness that prevails among them. With his feet stretched to the
fire, the Indian cares for nothing else when reposing in his wigwam,
and it is useless to urge the improvement that might be made in his
comfort; he listens with a face of apathy, and utters his everlasting
guttural, which saves him the trouble of a more rational reply.
"Snow-bird" informed Catharine that the lodges would not again be
removed for some time, but that the men would hunt and fish, while the
squaws pursued their domestic labours. Catharine perceived that the
chief of the laborious part of the work fell to the share of the
females, who were very much more industrious and active than their
husbands; those, when not out hunting or fishing, were to be seen
reposing in easy indolence under the shade of the trees, or before the
tent fires, giving themselves little concern about anything that was
going on. The squaws were gentle, humble, and submissive; they bore
without a murmur pain, labour, hunger, and fatigue, and seemed to
perform every task with patience and good-humour. They made the
canoes, in which the men sometimes assisted them, pitched the tents,
converted the skins of the animals which the men shot into clothes,
cooked the victuals, manufactured baskets of every kind, wove mats,
dyed the quills of the porcupine, sewed the moccasins, and, in short,
performed a thousand tasks which it would be difficult to enumerate.
Of the ordinary household work, such as is familiar to European
females, they of course knew nothing; they had no linen to wash or
iron, no floors to clean, no milking of cows, nor churning of butter.
Their carpets were fresh cedar boughs spread on the ground, and only
renewed when they became offensively dirty from the accumulation of
fish-bones and other offal, which are carelessly flung down during
meals. Of furniture they had none; their seat the ground, their table
the same, their beds mats or skins of animals,--such were the domestic
arrangements of the Indian camp. [Footnote: Much improvement has taken
place of late years in the domestic economy of the Indians, and some
of their dwellings are clean and neat even for Europeans.]
In the tent to which Catharine belonged, which was that of the widow
and her sons, a greater degree of order and cleanliness prevailed than
in any other; for Catharine's natural love of neatness and comfort
induced her to strew the floor with fresh cedar or hemlock every day
or two, and to sweep round the front of the lodge, removing all
unseemly objects from its vicinity. She never failed to wash herself
in the river, and arrange her hair with the comb Louis had made for
her; and she took great care of the little child, which she kept clean
and well fed. She loved this little creature, for it was soft and
gentle, meek and playful as a little squirrel; and the Indian mothers
all looked with kinder eyes upon the white maiden, for the loving
manner in which she tended their children. The heart of woman is
seldom cold to those who cherish their offspring, and Catharine began
to experience the truth that the exercise of human charities is
equally beneficial to those who give and those who receive; these
things fall upon the heart as dew upon a thirsty soil, giving and
creating a blessing. But we will leave Catharine for a short season,
among the lodges of the Indians, and return to Hector and Louis.