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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 the 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 toe great. For the first time he lost heart, and
starting up, with what daylight remained, made his way tc 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 bad 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 ‘0
whistle and I will come to you ray 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 clapped
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 bank 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 bosh, 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 than when they had reached their height. On a green maple
branch being stuck in a gable peak to indicate progress, a wild
huron 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
$10 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 come
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, ‘Hoc 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 when 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 he 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 |
