'Is it not dreadful that the first effect of European contact with original races everywhere should be destructive?' said Linda; 'even of the English, who have the gospel!'

'Yes: how sad that they who bear Christ's name should dishonour Him and thwart His cause among men, by practical disregard of His precepts! I shouldn't wonder if the red man hated the white man with a deadly hatred; for to him is owing the demoralization and extinction of a noble race—if it were by no other means than the introduction of the "fire-water," which has proved such a curse.'

'I have heard,' said Robert, 'that in the Indian languages there are no words which could be employed in swearing; and the native must have recourse to the tongue of his conquerors if he would thus sin.'

'And has no effort been made to Christianize them?' asked Linda.

'I have visited the Manitoulin Island in Lake Huron,' said Mr. Holt, 'where the remains of several Indian tribes have been collected by Sir Francis Head, with a view to their civilisation; and I can hardly say that the experiment impressed me favourably. It is the largest fresh-water island in the world, more than a hundred miles long, and serves as a fine roomy cage for the aborigines, who support themselves by hunting, fishing, and a little agriculture, and receive those luxuries which to us are necessaries, such as blankets and clothes, as annual presents from Government. They seemed miserably depressed and stolid; but the schools are well attended, and we may indulge some hope about the rising generation.'

'They seem too apathetic to improve,' said Robert.

'Still, it is our duty to work, however unpromising the material. I was pleased with a service which I attended in one of their log-schoolhouses. Nothing could be more devout than the demeanour of the Indians; the women's sweet plaintive hymns haunted me for a long while.'

'That's curious; for in their wild state I can't make out that they sing at all,' remarked Robert. 'The noise they call music is far more like the growling of beasts; and their only instruments, that I have ever seen, is a sort of drum with one head.'

'Hush, here are some of them,' said Linda.

In a glade of the forest two young girls were cutting wood, wielding hatchets as though well accustomed to their use, and displaying finely formed arms at every movement. For, as a general rule, the hardworking Indian woman is more strongly developed in proportion than her lazy lord. Lounging against a pine close by, was a tall, slender young man, attired in a buffalo skin cloak, of which the head and fore-legs portion hung down with a ragged effect; from under his arm projected an ornamented pipe.

'I think he might work, and the ladies look on,' observed Linda.

She could hardly repress an exclamation as he turned his face towards her. Round his eyes were traced two yellow circles, and his mouth was enclosed by a parenthesis of vermilion; an arabesque pattern adorned each dusky cheek.

'Isn't he a brilliant fellow?' whispered Robert. 'A lover, you may be certain, who has attired himself thus to come out here and display his painted face to these girls.'

'But he does not appear to speak a single word to them.'

'Oh, they do a good deal with the eyes,' he answered, laughing. 'Now that I look at the girls, one of them is quite pretty, and I fancy I can detect a blush through the olive of her cheek.'

'What a hideous custom that painting the face is!'

'I can't agree with you; that young fellow would look much worse if he washed the paint off, and he knows it. You'd regret the change yourself, when you saw him look mean, dirty, and insignificant, as at ordinary times; for rarely he decorates himself thus.'

'Well, I beg you won't carry your liking so far as to practise it, nor Mr. Holt either.' Sam bowed obediently.

Perhaps nothing in the camp amused the European young lady more than the infants, the 'papooses,' in their back-board cradles, buried up to the armpits in moss, and protected overhead by an arch of thin wood, whence hung various playthings for the inmate.

'Now I can comprehend the use of this rattle, or even of the tiny mocassins,' said Mr. Holt philosophically, as they investigated the pendants to the papoose. 'But why this piece of deer-leather, with bits of stag-horn attached? Except as a charm'—

Here nature answered the ingenious speculation, by the little coppery hand put forth to grasp the debated toy, and champ it in the baby mouth, after the fashion of our own immemorial coral-and-bells. This was the beginning of Linda's acquaintance with, and interest for, the poor Indians. She afterwards saw much of them in their wigwams and at their work. A little kindness goes far towards winning the Indian heart. They soon learned to regard all at Cedar Creek as friends, while to the young lady they gave the admiring cognomen of Ahwao, the Rose.



CHAPTER XXXI.

SUNDAY IN THE FOREST.

Linda soon learned to hail it with delight. For the overwhelming labours of the other six days were suspended during this bright first: the woodman's axe lay quietly in its niche by the grindstone, the hoe hung idly in the shed; Robert shook off sundry cares which were wont to trouble his brotherly brow from Monday till Saturday, and almost to obscure the fact of his loving little sister to his brotherly eyes; and was able to enjoy that rarity in bush-life, an interval of leisure.

She found a considerable development in these brothers of hers. From coping with the actual needs and stern realities of existence, from standing and facing fortune on their own feet, so to speak, they had mentally become more muscular. The old soft life of comparative dependence and conventionality was not such as educates sturdy characters or helpful men. This present life was just the training required. Linda discovered that Robert and Arthur were no longer boys to be petted or teased, as the case might be; but men in the highest attributes of manhood—forethought, decision, and industry. It was on Sunday that she got glimpses of their old selves, and that the links of family affection were riveted and brightened; as in many a home that is not Canadian.

For the rest; these Sundays were barren days. The uncommon toil of the past week was not favourable to spirituality of mind; and which of all the party could become teacher to the others? Mr. Wynn had some volumes of sermons by old orthodox divines, brought out indeed in his emigration with a view to these Sabbath emergencies. When prayers were read, and the usual psalms and lessons gone through, he would mount his silver spectacles, fix himself in a particularly stately attitude in his high-backed chair, and commence to read one of the discourses (taking out a paper mark beforehand) in a particularly stately voice. It is not exceeding the truth to say that George oftentimes was driven to frantic efforts to keep himself awake; and even Arthur felt the predisposition of Eutychus come stealing over him.

Sometimes the Davidsons came down. The sturdy Scotchman had all his national objections to 'the paper;' and when convinced that it was better to hear a printed sermon than none at all, he kept a strict outlook on the theology of the discourse, which made Mr. Wynn rather nervous. A volume of sermons was altogether interdicted as containing doctrine not quite orthodox; as he proved in five minutes to demonstration, the old gentleman having fled the polemic field ignominiously.

'Robert, in all your dreams for a settlement, have you ever thought of the church there ought to be?'

'Thought of it?—to be sure, and planned the site. Come along, and I'll show it to you—just where the tinned spire will gleam forth prettily from the woods, and be seen from all sides of the pond. Come; I'll bring you an easy way through the bushes:' and as she was leaning on his arm for an afternoon stroll, with the other dear brother at her left hand, of course she went where he wished.

'When I was out with Argent last winter,' observed Arthur, we came to a lot of shanties, called by courtesy a village (with some grand name or other, and intending, like all of them, to be some day at least a capital city), where they were beginning to build a church. It was to be a very liberal-minded affair, for all sects were to have it in turn till their own places were built: and on this understanding all subscribed. Odd subscriptions! The paper was brought to Argent and me, he gave a few dollars; most people gave produce, lumber, or shingles, or so many days' work, or the loan of oxen, and so on.'

'And as they do everything by "bees," from building a house down to quilting a counterpane, I suppose they had a bee for this,' said Linda.

'Exactly so. But it seemed a great pull to get it on foot at all. New settlers never have any money—like ourselves,' jauntily added Arthur. 'I never thought I could be so happy with empty pockets. Don't be deceived by that jingling—it is only a few keys which I keep for purposes of deception. Haven't I seen Uncle Zack's eyes glisten, and I am certain his mouth watered, when he thought the music proceeded from red cents!'

'But why must our church have a tin spire?' asked Linda by and by. 'It would remind me of some plaything, Bob.'

'Because it's national,' was the reply. 'But you needn't be afraid; if we have a shed like a whitewashed barn for the first ten years, with seats of half-hewn logs, we may deem ourselves fortunate, and never aspire to the spire. Excuse my pun.'

'Oh, did you intend that for a pun?' asked Linda innocently. 'I beg your pardon for not laughing in the proper place. But how about the minister of these bush churches, Bob?'

'Well, as the country opens up and gets cleared, we may reckon on having some sort of minister. I mean some denomination of preacher, within twenty-five or thirty miles of us; and he will think nothing of riding over every Sunday. It's quite usual.'

'He's a zealous man that does it in the bitter winter, with the weather some degrees below zero,' remarked Arthur.

'How happy he must feel to be able to deny himself, and to suffer for Jesus' sake,' said Linda softly. 'Robert, I often think could we do nothing down in that wretched place they call the "Corner," where nobody appears to know anything about God at all? Couldn't we have a Sunday school, or a Bible class, or something of that sort? It hardly appears right to be Christians, and yet hold our tongues about our Saviour among all these dark souls.'

The thought had been visiting Robert too, during some of his Sundays; but had been put aside from a false timidity and fear of man. 'How holy must be my life, how blameless my actions, if I set up to teach others?' was one deterring consideration. As if he could not trust his God's help to keep him what a Christian ought to be!

'We will think over it, Linda,' he said gravely.

An opening seemed to come ere next Sabbath. On the Saturday arrived at the 'Corner' the worthy itinerant preacher who occasionally visited there, and was forthwith sent up to the Wynns' shanty for entertainment by Zack Bunting; who, however willing to enjoy the eclat of the minister's presence, was always on the look-out for any loophole to save his own purse; and had indeed been requested by Mr. Wynn to commit the pastor to his hospitality when next he came round. Little of the cleric in appearance or garb was about this man of God. A clear-headed, strongly convictioned person, with his Bible for sole theologic library, and a deep sense of the vast consequence of his message at his heart, he dismounted from the sturdy Canadian horse which his own hands were used to attend, and entered the emigrant's dwelling with apostolic salutation—'Peace be to this house.'

'Very unlike our old-country ministers, my dear,' said gentle Mrs. Wynn to her daughter; 'and I fear I never could get reconciled to that blanket-coat and top-boots; but he's a good man—a very good man, I am sure. I found him speaking to Andy Callaghan in the kitchen about his soul; and really Andy looked quite moved by his earnestness. It seems he makes it a rule never to meet any person without speaking on the subject: I must say I highly approve of that for a minister.'

What a strange congregation was gathered in Zack Bunting's large room next noon! All sorts of faces, all sorts of clothes. Mrs. Zack and Almeria in rainbow garments; the Davidsons in sensible homespun; the Wynns in old-country garb, were prominent. News had gone far and near that preaching was to be enjoyed that Sabbath at the 'Corner;' and from daybreak it had made a stir along the roads. Ox-sleds, waggons, mounted horses, came thither apace by every available path through the woods. Old men and maidens, young men and matrons and children, crowded before the preacher, as he spoke to them from the verse—'Peace be with all them that love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity.'

Now an emphasis was laid on those last two words that might well make hypocrites wince. And Zack Punting had been singing with considerable fervour various hymns totally unsuited to his state of soul; as proprietor of the meeting-place, it became him to set an example of devotion—besides, was not religion a highly respectable thing? Among other hymns had been that beautiful outpouring of individual faith and love,—

Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone, He whom I fix my hopes upon.'

All this had Zack sung unflinchingly, as though one syllable of it were true for him!

The preacher dealt with the evil faithfully. He told his hearers that the common words repeated continually and often thoughtlessly, 'Our Lord Jesus Christ,' contained in themselves the very essence of God's glorious salvation. 'Jesus,' Saviour—He whose precious blood was shed to take away the sin of the world, and who takes away our sins for ever, if only we believe in Him: 'Christ,' the Divine title, whose signification gave value inconceivable to the sacrifice on Calvary; the Anointed One, the Prince of the kings of the earth; 'Our Lord,' our Master—the appropriation clause which makes Him and all the blessings of His gospel truly ours for ever, by faith in His name. In simpler words than are written here it was told; and the grand old story of peace, the good news of all the ages, that which has gladdened the hearts of unnumbered millions with the gladness which death does not extinguish, but only brighten into celestial glory—how God can be 'just, and yet the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus;' how there is no preparation needed for the reception of this vast boon of pardon, but simply the prerequisite of being a sinner and needing a Saviour; how all present might there, that hour, become forgiven souls, children of the royal family of heaven, heirs of God, and joint heirs of Christ, by means no more laborious than believing on Jesus as the Pardoner, coming to Him in prayer for His great gift of forgiveness, and taking it, being sure of it from His hands, as a beggar takes alms for no deservings of his own. The preacher spoke all this with soul-felt earnestness; it was the message of his life.

Even when the motley congregation drifted away down the creaking narrow stairs and into the open sunny air, where their motley vehicles stood among the stumps waiting, they could not at once shake off the impression of those earnest words. In amidst their talk of fall wheat, and burning fallow, and logging-bees, would glide thoughts from that sermon, arresting the worldliness with presentations of a mightier reality still; with suggestions of something which perhaps indeed was of deeper and more vital interest than what to eat, or what to drink, or wherewithal to be clothed.

Plenty of invitation had the pastor as to his further progress. Few settlers but would have deemed it an honour to have his shanty turned for the nonce into a church. Many there were accustomed to the means of grace weekly at home, who pined unavailingly for the same blessings in the bush. Ah, our English Sabbaths, how should we thank God for them!

Robert plucked up heart, and asked two or three seriously disposed young men to meet him every Sunday afternoon in the cottage of Jacques Dubois, for the purpose of reading the Bible together. Linda's plan of a Scripture class for girls was rather slower of realization, owing partly to a certain timidity, not unnatural in a gently nurtured girl, which made her shrink from encountering the quick-witted half-republican, and wholly insubordinate young ladies of the 'Corner.'



CHAPTER XXXII.

HOW THE CAPTAIN CLEARED HIS BUSH.

The next great event in our settlers' history was their first logging-bee, preparatory to the planting of fall wheat. The ladies had been quite apprehensive of the scene, for Robert and Arthur could give no pleasant accounts of the roysterings and revelry which generally distinguished these gatherings. But they hoped, by limiting the amount of liquor furnished to sufficient for refreshment, though not sufficient for intoxication, that they could in a measure control the evil, as at their raising-bee four months previously.

The mass of food cooked for the important day required so much extra labour, as sorely to discompose the Irish damsel who acted under Linda's directions. Miss Biddy Murphy had already begun to take airs on herself, and to value her own services extravagantly. Life in the bush was not her ideal in coming to America, but rather high wages, and perchance a well-to-do husband; and, knowing that it would be difficult to replace her, she thought she might be indolent and insolent with impunity. Linda's mother never knew of all the hard household work which her frail fragile girl went through in these days of preparation, nor what good reason the roses had for deserting her cheeks. Mamma should not be vexed by hearing of Biddy's defection; and there was an invaluable and indignant coadjutor in Andy.

Everybody was at the bee. Zack Bunting and his team, Davidson and his team, and his tall sons; Captain Armytage and Mr. Reginald; Jacques Dubois and another French Canadian; a couple of squatters from the other side of the lake; altogether two dozen men were assembled, with a fair proportion of oxen.

It was a burning summer day: perhaps a hundred degrees in the sun at noon. What a contrast to the season which had witnessed the fall of the great trees now logging into heaps. Robert could hardly believe his memory, that for three months since the year began, the temperature of this very place had been below the freezing-point.

Mr. Reginald Armytage volunteered to be grog-bos, an office which suited his 'loafing' propensities, since his duties consisted in carrying about a pail of water and a bottle of whisky to the knots of workmen. His worthy father's position was almost as ornamental, for after one or two feeble efforts with a handspike, he went to talk with Mr. Wynn the elder—chiefly of a notable plan which he had for clearing a belt of wood lying between his farmhouse and the lake, and which quite shut out all view.

'You see that Scotch fellow had no taste about his place, eh? He just thought of the vulgar utilitarian facts of the farm as it were; but for the cultivation of the eye, the glorious influence of landscape, he had no thought. Daisy Burn might as well be in the bottom of a pit; all one can see is the sky and the walls of forest outside the clearing. Now my plan is—Reginald, my boy,' as the grog-bos passed within hearing distance, 'give me the cup. The day is sultry to an extreme, eh?' Having refreshed his throat, he proceeded: 'My plan is, to set on fire that strip of forest, eh? I never could abide the slow work of the axe. With proper precautions, such as engineers use along the new rail-lines, the burning might be kept within bounds, eh?'

Mr. Wynn, who knew nothing at all about the matter, courteously assented.

'Just look at my father, the glorious old gentleman, how he stands like a general overseeing a lot of pioneers,' said Robert to Arthur, as they passed one another. 'Wonder what he and that drone are conversing about so long.'

'I heard Armytage saying he would clear the belt of his forest on the lake with fire,' was the reply. 'In which case we may look out.'

'Whew!' Robert whistled a long note. But his gang of teamsters wanted him and his handspike, so he went on. Each yoke of oxen had four men attached to it, for the purpose of rolling the logs on top of each other, and picking the ground clear after them; which last means gathering all chips and sticks into the pile likewise. An acre to each team is considered a fair day's work. Robert was so busy as quite to forget the captain and his alarming method of clearing, thenceforth.

By evening something had been done towards disentangling Cedar Creek. The trees, which had lain about at every conceivable angle, in the wildest disorder, were rolled into masses ready for burning, through six acres of the clearing. The men had worthily earned their supper. In the old shanty it was laid out, on boards and tressels from end to end. The dignified Mr. Wynn of Dunore took the chair; Captain Armytage was vice, or croupier. As to attendance, the Irish damsel struck work at the most critical juncture, and refused to minister to them in the article of tea. The ever-ready Andy, just in with blackened hands from his long day's field-work, washed them hurriedly, and became waiter for the nonce, having first energetically declared that if he was Biddy Murphy, he'd be 'shamed to ate the bread he didn't airn; and that she might go home to her mother as soon as she liked, for an iligant young lady as she was. Zack Bunting overheard the strife, and the same night, on his return home, dropped a hint to the girl Libby—short for Liberia—his wife's orphan and penniless niece, who dwelt with them as a servant, and whose support they were anxious to get off their hands; and so, to her own prodigious astonishment, the recalcitrant Biddy found herself superseded, and the American help hired a day or two afterwards.

'The whole affair of the bee was not so formidable as you thought,' said Robert to his sister subsequently. They were together in a canoe upon the pond, enjoying a tranquil afternoon, and ostensibly fishing.

'Oh no, not so bad. You know I saw very little of your hive, except indeed the storekeeper's son, who was dressed so fantastically, and who would come offering his help in my cookery.'

'I saw you talking to Jackey Dubois. Could you make anything of his French?'

'Well, I tried, and of course could understand him; but the accent is very queer. He calls Canada always Conodo; in fact, he puts "o" for "a" and "i" constantly. The article "la" turns into "lo," "voir" becomes "voar." That puzzles one—and the nasal twang besides. I wonder why that is so universal. Even your nice friend Mr. Holt is affected by it, though slightly.'

'He told me once that it is a national peculiarity; and no matter what pains a man takes to preserve himself or his children from it, insensibly it grows in the pronunciation. He believes that something in the climate affects the nasal organs; he predicts it for me, and I suppose for all of us.'

'I hope not. Robert, I think the foliage on the shores is changing colour already.'

'I daresay; the maple blushes scarlet very early. Ah, wait till you see the Indian summer, with its gorgeous tinting and soft pink mists.'

And here Robert jerked into the boat a fine speckled trout caught by the bait of a garden worm. He had captured half-a-dozen in half-an-hour.

'One would think the mists were come already,' said Linda, still gazing at the waved outline of the shore. 'There seems to be fog away yonder.'

'The captain burning his fallow, I presume,' said Robert, raising his eyes from his hook. But the smoke was larger than that would account for.

'We will paddle a little nearer and investigate,' said he, laying down his tackle. A dread of suspicion stole into his mind, which whitened his very lips.

They approached and coasted; the smell of burning wood becoming stronger—the smoke hanging over those headlands denser.

It was as he feared—the forest was on fire.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE FOREST ON FIRE.

Robert drew his paddle into the canoe, and sat perfectly still for some moments, gazing towards the fire and taking in its circumstances. They could hear the dull roar of the blaze distinctly, and even caught a glimpse of its crimson glare through an opening in the tall pines fringing the lake. It must have been burning a couple of hours to have attained such mastery. Dark resinous smoke hung heavily in the air: a hot stifling gust of it swept down on the canoe.

'The wind is towards the pond, most providentially,' said Robert, taking up his paddle, and beginning to stroke the water vigorously towards home. 'The burning may do no harm; but fire is a fearful agent to set afoot. I'm sure the captain heartily wishes his kindling undone by this time.'

'Is there no danger to the farm, Robert?' asked his sister, who had become blanched with fear. 'I never heard such a terrible sound as that raging and crackling.'

'To Daisy Burn none, I should say; for, of course, the man had sense enough to fire the bush only a long way down in front, an extensive clearing rather round the house, and the breeze will keep away the blaze.'

'Thank God,' fervently ejaculated Linda. 'I wish we could bring Miss Armytage and little Jay to the Creek while it lasts. Wouldn't you go across for them, Bob? I know they must be frightened.'

Robert hardly heard her, and certainly did not take in the import of her words. With some wonder at his set face and earnest watch along shore, she did not press her wish. He was looking at the belt of fat resinous pines and balsams, dry as chips from the long summer droughts and tropical heats, which extended along from the foot of Armytage's farm even to the cedar swamp; he was feeling that the slight wind was blowing in a fair direction for the burning of this most inflammable fuel, and consequently the endangering of his property on the creek. A point or two from the east of south it blew; proved by the strong resinous smell wafted towards the landing cove.

'Bob, you're forgetting the trout and the tackle,' as he jumped ashore, helped her out, and hurried up the beaten path beside the beaver meadow. 'Never mind; I want to see Holt,' was his answer. 'If any man can help, 'tis he.'

'Then there is danger!' She still thought of the Daisy Burn people. Before they reached the house, they met Mr. Holt and half-a-dozen Indians.

'We must burn a patch of brushwood, to deprive the fire of fuel,' said the former. 'These Indians have done the like on the prairies westward. It is worth trying, at all events.'

'Go up to my mother, Linda; there's nothing to be much alarmed for as yet; I hope this plan of Holt's may stop its progress. I'll be at the house as soon as I can, tell her;' and he ran after the others, down to the mouth of the creek, where a strip of alluvial land, covered with bushes and rank grass, interrupted the belt of firs and cedars. Calling in fire as an ally against itself seemed to Robert very perilous; but the calm Indians, accustomed to wilderness exigencies, set about the protective burning at once. The flame easily ran through the dry brushwood; it was kept within bounds by cutting down the shrubs where it might spread farther than was desirable. Soon a broad blackened belt lay beside the creek, containing nothing upon which the fire could fasten. Axes were at work to widen it still further.

'The wind has risen very much, Holt,' said Robert, as they felt hot currents of air sweep past them.

'Just the result of the rarified atmosphere over the flames,' he answered. They spoke little: the impending risk was too awful. For once, the white man submitted himself to the guidance of the red. To prevent the fire from crossing the creek was the great object. The water itself, perhaps a hundred feet wide, would be an ineffectual barrier; such fierce flame would overleap it. Therefore the Indians had burned the left bank, and now proceeded to burn the right. Indomitably self-possessed, cool and silent, they did precisely what met the emergency, without flurry or confusion.



All this time the fire was advancing behind the green veil of woods. Volumes of thick smoke were borne off across the pond, alarming the dwellers in distant shanties and oases of clearing, with suggestion of the most terrific danger that can befall a settler in the bush. Before sunset the conflagration came in sight of Cedar Creek. Marching resistlessly onward, to the sound of great detonations of crashing and crackling timber, and its own vast devouring roar, the mighty fire presented a front of flame thirty feet higher than the tree-tops. Daylight went down before that huge glare. The low hanging clouds were crimsoned with a glow, not from the sinking sun, but from the billows of blaze beneath. As the dusk deepened, the terrors of the scene intensified by contrast, though in reality the triumphant fire recoiled from that blackened space fringing the stream, where it must die for want of fuel.

To prevent its spreading up to the concession line, and catching the forest there, and perhaps destroying the whole township, all the men in the neighbourhood had assembled to cut down trees, and leave a barrier of vacancy. If the wind had not been blowing from that direction, it is improbable that their endeavours would have been sufficient to keep back the burning. The crestfallen Captain Armytage, author of all the mischief, wielded an axe among them. Truly he had created a view of black smoking poles and cheerful charcoal vistas before his dwelling. Whether that were better than the utilitarian Scotchman's green woods, he did not say just now, nor have spirit even to answer Davidson's sarcastic remarks on his 'muckle clearin'.'

Far into the night, the great gaunt boles of trees stood amid wreathing flame. When all risk was over that it would communicate further, and destroy the garden or the house, Robert and the rest could admire its magnificence, and Sam Holt could tell of other forest-burnings of which he had heard, especially of the great fire which occurred in the year 1825, and consumed about two hundred square miles of woods on the Miramichi River in New Brunswick, left fourteen houses standing in the town of Newcastle, and destroyed five hundred people. Two thousand were thus reduced to pauperism.

'Such things are never heard of in Europe. Why are these forests more inflammable than those in the old world?' asked Mr. Wynn the elder.

'Because the drought and heat of the climate are so much greater,' answered Sam Holt; 'and the preponderance of pines, loaded to the end of every leaf and twig with pitch and resin, affords uncommon food for fire.'

Then as to the cause; he considered it could never be spontaneous combustion, but always accident, unless, indeed, in an exceptional case like the present, said Mr. Holt sotto voce. Settlers, burning brush heaps, or logging, sometimes permit the flame to run along the ground into the bush; and in dry weather entrance was sufficient. The boundary fences of farms were often consumed in this way, and more extensive mischief might follow.

For days the charred chaos of timber poles and fallen trunks gave forth such heat and flickering flames as to be unapproachable. Zack's Yankee brain had a scheme for utilizing the ashes, if only he had machinery big enough for converting all into potash and pearlash. This man was old Mr. Wynn's special aversion. There was indeed little in common between the well-bred European gentleman, who always, even in these poor circumstances, wore the whitest linen (he never knew how Linda toiled over those neat shirt-fronts and ruffles), and kept up the convenances of society in the bush, and had a well-educated range of thought—between all this and the Yankee storekeeper, who wore no linen at all, nor had the faintest idea of the usages of the polite world, nor an idea which might not be paralleled in the mental experience of a rat in a barn. 'Get' and 'grasp' were the twin grooves of his life.

Unconscious of the antipathy, Zack would saunter up to Cedar Creek sometimes of an evening, and, if not intercepted, would march straight into the parlour where the ladies sat, and fix his feet on the wooden chimney-piece, discharging tobacco juice at intervals into the fire with unerring labial aim. Mr. Wynn's anger at the intrusion signified nothing, nor could a repellent manner be understood by Zack without some overt act, which a strained respect for hospitality prevented on the part of the old gentleman.

'Well, Robert, how you could permit that man to walk with you for the last half-hour I do not know.' Mr. Wynn stood on the threshold, looking a complete contrast to the shuffling, retreating figure of the lank Yankee striding over to the road.

'I assure you it is not for the pleasure I take in his society, sir; but he gives me useful hints. We were talking just now of potash, and I showed him my new rail-fences; he has rather put me out of conceit with my week's work because it is of basswood, which he says does not hold.'

'Are those the rails which I helped to split?'

Be it noticed here that Mr. Wynn the elder could not bear to be totally dependent on his sons, nor to live the life of a faineant while they laboured so hard; he demanded some manual task, and believed himself of considerable use, while they had often to undo his work when he turned his back; and at all times the help was chiefly imaginary. No matter, it pleased him; and they loved the dear old gentleman too well to undeceive him.

'As to the potash business, sir, I fear it is too complicated and expensive to venture upon this year, though the creek is an excellent site for an ashery, and they say the manufacture is highly remunerating. What do you think, father?' And they had a conference that diverged far from potash.

After closely watching Davidson's management, and finding that he realized twenty-eight shillings per hundredweight, Robert resolved to try the manufacture. Details would be tedious. Both reader and writer might lose themselves in leach-tubs, ash-kettles, and coolers. The 'help,' Liberia, proved herself valuable out of doors as well as indoors at this juncture; for Mrs. Zack's principle of up-bringing was that young folk should learn to turn their hand to 'most everythin'. And Libby, a large plump girl with prodigiously red cheeks and lips, had profited so far by her training as to be nearly as clever in the field as in the kitchen. Her great strength was a constant subject of admiration to Andy, though the expression of any such sentiment was met by unmitigated scorn on the lady's part.

'Why, thin, Miss Green, an' it's yerself has the beautifullest arm, all to nothing', that ever I see; an' it's mottled brown with freckles, an' as big as a blacksmith's anyhow. Och, an' look how she swings up the potash kettle as light as if it was only a stone pot; musha, but yer the finest woman, my darlin', from this to yerself all round the world agin!'

'I guess, Mister Handy, if yer was to bring some logs, an' not to stand philanderin' thar, 'twould be a sight better,' rejoined Miss Liberia sourly.

'Look now,' answered Andy; 'ye couldn't make yerself ugly musthore, not if yer wor thryin' from this till then, so ye needn't frown; but ye're very hard-hearted intirely on a poor orphant like me, that has nayther father nor mother, nor as much as an uncle, nor a cousin near me itself. Though sorra bit o' me but 'ud sooner never have one belongin' to me than thim out-an-out disgraceful cousins of yer own at the "Corner."'

Libby was immovable by this as by any other taunt, to all appearance. 'Throth, I thried her every way,' quoth Andy subsequently, after an experience of some months; 'I thried her by flatthery an' by thruth-tellin', by abusing her relations an' herself, an' by praisin' 'em, by appalin' to her compassion an' by bein' stiff an' impident, an' I might as well hould me tongue. A woman that couldn't be coaxed wid words, I never seen afore.'

Perhaps she was the better servant for this disqualification; at all events, she had no idea of any nonsense keeping her from the full discharge of her duties in the house. Her propensity to call the gentlemen by their baptismal names, without any respectful prefix, was viewed by Linda as a very minor evil when set off against strength and willing-heartedness. But one day that she wanted her young mistress, and abruptly put her head into the parlour, asking, in a strong tone, 'Whar's Linda? Tell her the men that's settin' the fall wheat'll be 'long in no time for dinner,' Mr. Wynn could have turned her away on the spot.

'Wal! sure it ain't no sin to forget the "miss" of an odd time, I guess,' was the large damsel's rejoinder, though without the least spice of sauciness. 'Come, I hain't no time to be spendin' here;' and she closed the door after her with a bang which made gentle Mrs. Wynn start. There was some trouble in convincing her husband that it was only the servant's rough manner—no real disrespect was intended; the incident put him into low spirits for the day, and turned many a backward thought upon the wealth of his youth.

He would say, in these downcast moods, that Canada was no place for the gentleman emigrant; but could he point out any colony more suited? Also, that his sons earned daily bread by harassing toil, worse than that of a bricklayer or day labourer at home; but were they not happier than in pursuit of mere pastime like thousands of their equals in the province they had left? Robert would certainly have answered in the affirmative. Arthur's restless spirit less wisely pined for the pleasure-seeking of such a life as Argent's.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

TRITON AMONG MINNOWS.

Linda was stooping one morning in the corner of her garden. Some precious plant was there, protected from the full glare of the noon sun by a calico shade, carefully adjusted, and with a circle of brown damp about it, which told of attentive watering. A few roundish leaves were the object of all this regard; in the centre of the knot to-day stood a little green knob on a short stem.

'Oh, Georgie! papa! come and look at my daisy; it has actually got a bud.'

Master George, nothing loth to have lessons disturbed by any summons, ran round from the open window through the open hall door, and his father followed more slowly to behold the marvel.

'You see, papa, I thought it never would get on, it was such a sickly little thing; but it must be growing strong, or it could not put out a bud. How glad I shall be to see a daisy's face again! I would give all the fragrance of the blue wild iris for one. But, papa, the laurel cuttings are dead, I fear.'

They looked very like it, though Mr. Wynn would still give them a chance. He apprehended the extreme dryness of the air might prove too much for the infant daisy also. But Linda would see nothing except promise of prosperity as yet.

'Now, papa, when I am done with my melons, and you have finished Georgie's lessons, I want you to walk down to Daisy Burn with me. I have something to say to Edith.'

'With pleasure, my dear. But I have always wondered why that name was given to that farm, except on the principle of lucus a non.'

After the mid-day dinner they went. Meeting Andy on the road, trudging up from the 'Corner' on some message, he informed them that the captain and his son had gone to a cradling-bee at Benson's, an English settler a few miles off. 'But as to whether 'tis to make cradles they want, or to rock 'em, meself doesn't rightly know.'

The fact being that a 'cradle,' in American farming, signifies a machine for cutting down corn wholesale. It is a scythe, longer and wider than that used in mowing hay, combined with an apparatus of 'standard,' 'snaith,' and 'fingers,' by means of which a single workman may level two acres and a half of wheat or oats in one day.

'Captain Armytage is of a very sociable disposition,' remarked Mr. Wynn, after a few steps. 'A man fresh from the mess table and clubs must find the bush strangely unsuitable.' He was thinking of certain petty occurrences at his own bee, which demonstrated the gallant officer's weaknesses.

'Oh, papa, did you ever see anything like these vines? Grapes will be as plentiful as blackberries are at home.' For along the concession line many trees were festooned with ripening clusters; and deeper in the woods, beyond Linda's ken, and where only the birds and wild animals could enjoy the feast, whole hundredweights hung in gleams of sunshine. Well might the Northmen, lighting upon Canadian shores in one hot summer, many centuries before Cabot or Cartier, name the country Vine-land; and the earliest French explorers up the St. Lawrence call a grape-laden rock the Isle of Bacchus.

'But is it not a wonder, papa,' pressed the young lady, 'when the cold is so terrible in winter? Do you remember all the endless trouble the gardener at Dunore had to save his vines from the frost? And Robert says that great river the Ottawa is frozen up for five months every year, yet here the grapes flourish in the open air.'

'I suppose we are pretty much in the latitude of the Garonne,' answered Mr. Wynn, casting about for some cause. 'But, indeed, Linda, if your Canadian grape does not enlarge somewhat'—

'You unreasonable papa, to expect as fine fruit as in a hothouse or sunny French vineyard. I really see no reason why we Canadians should not have regular vineyards some day, and you would see how our little grapes must improve under cultivation. Perhaps we might make wine. Now, you dear clever papa, just turn your attention to that, and earn for yourself the sobriquet of national benefactor.'

Clinging to his arm as they walked, she chattered her best to amuse the sombre mind, so lately uprooted from old habits and ways of life into a mode of existence more or less distasteful. The birds aided her effort with a variety of foreign music. Woodpigeon, bobolink, bluebird, oriole, cooed and trilled and warbled from the bush all around. The black squirrel, fat, sleek, jolly with good living of summer fruits, scampered about the boughs with erect shaggy tail, looking a very caricature upon care, as he stowed away hazel-nuts for the frosty future. Already the trees had donned their autumn coats of many colours; and the beauteous maple-leaves, matchless in outline as in hue, began to turn crimson and gold. The moody man yielded to the sweet influences of nature in a degree, and acknowledged that even this exile land could be enjoyable.

Arriving at the snake fences of Armytage's farm, he said he would go down to the post at the 'Corner' for letters, and call in an hour for Linda on his return. She found Edith and Jay working hard as usual. Their employment to-day was the very prosaic one of digging potatoes. 'What horrid occupation for a lady!' exclaims somebody. Yes; Miss Armytage would have much preferred an afternoon spent in painting flowers, for which she had a talent. But there was no help for such manual labour in this case. Don't you imagine her pride suffered before she took part in field work? I think so, by the deep blush that suffused her face when she saw the visitor coming along, though it was only Linda Wynn, who made some not very complimentary reflections on the father and brother whose absence on an amusing expedition permitted this,—whose general indolence compelled severe labour from the girls. They were misplaced men, certainly, and had as much business in the bush, with their tastes and habits, and want of self-control, as Zack Bunting would have had in an English drawing-room.

Linda had been thinking over a plan, which, when uttered, was proved to have also suggested itself to her friend. Could not something be done in the way of a Sunday-school class for the miserable ignorant children at the 'Corner'? Now the very rudiments of revealed religion were unknown to them; and to spend an hour or two on the vacant Sabbath in trying to teach them some of Heaven's lore, seemed as if it might be the germ of great good. Miss Armytage, naturally not of Linda's buoyant disposition, foresaw abundance of difficulties,—the indifference or opposition of parents, the total want of discipline or habits of thought among the young themselves. Still, it was worth trying; if only a single childish soul should be illuminated with the light of life to all eternity by this means, oh, how inestimably worth trying!

Mr. Wynn was seen coming up the clearing. 'I know papa has had a letter,' exclaimed Linda, 'and that it is a pleasant one, by his pleasant face. Confess now, Edith, isn't he the handsomest man you ever saw?'

Her friend laughed at the daughterly enthusiasm, but could have answered in the affirmative, as she looked at his stately grey-crowned figure and handsome features, lighted with a grave, kind smile, as Linda took possession of his left arm—to be nearer his heart, she said. She was not very long in coaxing from him the blue official letter which contained his appointment to the magistracy of the district, about which he pretended not to be a bit pleased.

'And there's some other piece of nonsense in that,' said he, taking out a second blue envelope, and addressed to Arthur Wynn, Esquire.

'"Adjutant-General's Office,"' read Linda, from the corner. 'His appointment to the militia, I am sure. That good, powerful Mr. Holt!' Even at the name she coloured a little. 'He said that he would try and have this done. And I am so glad you are taking your proper footing in the colony, papa. Of course they should make you a magistrate. I should like to know who has the dignified presence, or will uphold the majesty of the law, as well as you?'

'Magistracy and militia—very different in this mushroom society from what they are in the old country,' said Mr. Wynn despairingly.

'Well, papa, I have ambition enough to prefer being chief fungus among the mushrooms, instead of least among any other class. Don't you know how poverty is looked down upon at home? Here we are valued for ourselves, not for our money. See how all the neighbourhood looks up to Mr. Wynn of Cedar Creek. You are lord-lieutenant of the county, without his commission: these men feel the influence of superior education and abilities and knowledge.'

'I verily believe, saucebox, that you think your father fit to be Governor-General; or, at least, a triton among the minnows.'

'Papa, the fun is, you'll have to marry people now, whenever you're asked. It is part of a magistrate's duty in out-of-the-way places, Mr. Holt says.'

'Then I am to consider my services bespoke by the young ladies present, eh?' said Mr. Wynn, making a courtly inclination to Edith and Jay. 'With the greatest pleasure.'



CHAPTER XXXV.

THE PINK MIST.

Mr. Wynn became his magisterial functions well, though exercised after a primitive fashion, without court-house or bench whence to issue his decisions, without clerk to record them, or police force to back them, or any other customary paraphernalia of justice to render his office imposing. To be sure, his fine presence was worth a great deal, and his sonorous voice. As Linda predicted, he was obliged to perform clerical duty at times, in so far as to marry folk who lived beyond reach of a clergyman, and had thrice published their intention in the most public part of the township. The earliest of these transactions affianced one of Davidson's lads to a braw sonsie lass, daughter of Benson, the Shropshire settler beyond the 'Corner.' The bridegroom, a tall strapping young fellow of about twenty-three, had a nice cottage ready for his wife, and a partially cleared farm of a hundred acres, on which he had been working with this homestead in view for the last year and a half. The prudent Scotsman would portion off his other sons in similar respectability as they came of age.

'And yer mither and I cam' here wi' an axe and a cradle,' he was wont to say, 'eh, Jeanie Davidson?'

He had good cause for gratulation at the wedding that day. His own indomitable industry and energy had raised him from being a struggling weaver in Lanarkshire to be a prosperous landowner in Canada West. He looked upon a flourishing family of sons and daughters round the festive board in Benson's barn, every one of them a help to wealth instead of a diminution to it; strong, intelligent lads, healthy and handy lasses. With scarce a care or a doubt, he could calculate on their comfortable future.

'I tell you what, neighbour,' cried stout John Benson, from the head of the table, 'throw by cold water for once, and pledge me in good whisky to the lucky day that brought us both to Canada.'

'Na, na,' quoth Davidson, shaking his grizzled head, 'I'll drink the toast wi' all my heart, but it must be in gude water. These twenty year back I hae been a temperance man, and hae brought up thae lads to the same fashion; for, coming to Canada, I kenned what ruined mony a puir fallow might weel be the ruin o' me, an' I took a solemn vow that a drap o' drink suld never moisten my lips mair. Sandy Davidson wouldna be gettin' John Benson's daughter in marriage the day, if it werena for the cauld water.'

Captain Armytage, who never missed a merrymaking of any description within a circle of miles, took on himself to reply to this teetotal oration.

It was all very well for Mr. Davidson to talk thus, but few constitutions could bear up against the excessive labour of bush life without proportionate stimulants. For his own part, he would sink under it, but for judicious reinforcement of cordials, ordered him by the first medical man in Europe.

'I daur say,' replied Davidson, whose keen hard eye had been fixed on the speaker; 'I daur say. Ye mak' nae faces at yer medicine, anyhow. It's weel that Zack's store is so handy to Daisy Burn, only I'm thinkin' the last will go to the first, in the long run.'

'What do you mean, sir?' demanded the captain fierily.

'Naething,' responded Davidson coolly,—'naething save what e'er the words mean.'

'But we were a-goin' to drink to Canada, our adopted country,' put in Benson, willing to stifle the incipient quarrel—'the finest country on the face of the earth, after Old England.'

His stentorian Shropshire lungs supplied a cheer of sufficient intensity, taken up by his guests.

'The country whar we needna fear factor, nor laird, nor rent-day,' shouted Davidson. 'We're lairds an' factors here, an' our rent-day comes—never.'

'Whirroo!' exclaimed an Irishman, Pat O'Brien, who, having been evicted in his own country, was particularly sensitive as to landlord and tenant-right. 'No more agints, nor gales o' rint, nor nothin', ever to pay!'

'Not forgetting the tax-gatherer,' interposed portly Mr. Benson. 'None of us are partikler sorry to part with him.'

Meanwhile the comely bride was sitting with her husband at one side of the table, thankful for the diversion from herself as a topic of enthusiasm and mirth.

'Lads, you'd be a' at the loom, an' your sisters in the factories, only for Canada,' said Davidson, now on his legs. 'An' I suld be lookin' for'ard to the poor-house as soon as my workin' days were ower; an' Sandy couldna marry, except to live on porridge an' brose, wi' cauld kail o' Sabbath. How wad ye relish that prospect, bonnie Susan?'

Bonnie Susan liked the prospect of the folds of her own silk dress best at that moment, to judge by the determinately downward glance of her eyes.

By and by Davidson (for the subject was a favourite one with him) hit upon another of the Canadian advantages as a poor man's land—that the larger a man's family, the wealthier was he. No need to look on the little ones as superfluous mouths, which by dire necessity the labourer in mother country is often forced to do; for each child will become an additional worker, therefore an additional means of gain.

'An' if the folk at hame kenned this mair, dinna ye think the emigration wad be thrice what it is, Mr. Robert? Dinna ye think they wad risk the sea an' the strangers, to make a safe future for their bairns? Ay, surely. An' when I think o' the people treading one anither down over the edges o' thae three little islands, while a country as big as Europe stands amaist empty here'—

Mr. Davidson never stated the consequences of his thought; for just then came a universal call to clear the tables, stow away the boards and tressels, and make room for dancing and small plays. The hilarity may be imagined—the boisterous fun of general blindman's buff, ladies' toilet, and all varieties of forfeits. Robert Wynn stole away in the beginning; he had come for an hour, merely to gratify their good neighbour Davidson; but, pressing as was his own farm-work, he found time to spend another hour at Daisy Burn, doing up some garden beds under direction of Miss Edith. She had come to look on him as a very good friend; and he——well, there was some indefinable charm of manner about the young lady. Those peculiarly set grey eyes were so truthful and so gentle, that low musical voice so perfect in tone and inflection, that Robert was pleased to look or listen, as the case might be. But chiefest reason of all—was she not dear Linda's choicest friend and intimate? Did they not confide every secret of their hearts to each other? Ah, sunbeam, Linda knew well that there was a depth of her friend's nature into which she had never looked, and some reality of gloom there which she only guessed.

Perhaps it was about Edith's father or brother. That these gentlemen neglected their farm business, and that therefore affairs could not prosper, was tolerably evident. Fertile as is Canadian soil, some measure of toil is requisite to evolve its hidden treasures of agricultural wealth. Except from a hired Irish labourer named Mickey Dunne, Daisy Burn farm did not get this requisite. The young man Reginald now openly proclaimed his abhorrence of bush life. No degree of self-control or arduous habits had prepared him for the hard work essential. Most of the autumn he had lounged about the 'Corner,' except when his father was in Zack's bar, which was pretty often; or he was at Cedar Creek on one pretext or other, whence he would go on fishing and shooting excursions with Arthur.

Meanwhile, Robert's farming progressed well. His fall-wheat was all down by the proper period, fifteenth of September; for it is found that the earlier the seed is sown, the stronger is the plant by the critical time of its existence, and the better able to withstand frost and rust. Complacently he looked over the broad brown space, variegated with charred stumps, which occupied fully a twelfth of the cleared land; and stimulated by the pleasures of hope, he calculated on thirty-five bushels an acre next summer as the probable yield. Davidson had raised forty per acre in his first season at Daisy Burn, though he acknowledged that twenty-five was the present average.

The garden stuff planted on Robert's spring-burn ground had flourished; more than two hundred bushels per acre of potatoes were lodged in the root-house, and a quantity of very fine turnips and carrots. Beans had not thriven: he learned that the climate is considered unfavourable for them. The pumpkins planted between his rows of Indian corn had swelled and swelled, till they lay huge golden balls on the ground, promising abundant dishes of 'squash' and sweet pie through the winter.

'How is it that everything thrives with you, Wynn?' young Armytage said one afternoon that he found the brothers busy slitting rails for the fencing of the aforesaid fall-wheat. 'I should say the genius of good luck had a special care over Cedar Creek.'

'Well, nature has done three-fourths of it,' answered Robert, driving in a fresh wedge with his beetle; 'for this soil reminds me of some poet's line—"Tickle the earth with a straw, and forth laughs a yellow harvest." The other quarter of our success is just owing to hard work, Armytage, as you may see.'

'I can't stand that,' said the young man, laughing: 'give me something to do at once;' and he began to split rails also. Linda, coming from the house, found them thus employed—a highly industrial trio.

'I recollect being promised wild plums to preserve,' said she, after looking on for a little. 'Suppose you get out the canoe, Bob, and we go over to that island where we saw such quantities of them unripe? Now don't look so awfully wise over your wedges, but just consider how I am to have fruit tarts for people, if the fruit is never gathered.'

Whether the motive was this telling argument, or that his work was almost finished owing to the additional hand, Robert allowed the beetle to be taken from his fingers and laid aside. 'You imperious person! I suppose we must obey you.'

The day was one of those which only Canada in the whole world can furnish—a day of the 'pink mist,' when the noon sun hangs central in a roseate cup of sky. The rich colour was deepest all round the horizon, and paled with infinite shades towards the zenith, like a great blush rose drooping over the earth. Twenty times that morning Linda went from the house to look at it: her eyes could not be satiated with the beauty of the landscape and of the heavens above.

Then, what colours on the trees! As the canoe glided along through the enchanted repose of the lake, what painted vistas of forest opened to the voyagers' sight! what glowing gold islets against an azure background of distant waters and purple shores! what rainbows had fallen on the woods, and steeped them in hues more gorgeous than the imagination of even a Turner could conceive! Shades of lilac and violet deepening into indigo; scarlet flecked with gold and green; the darkest claret and richest crimson in opposition: no tropical forest was ever dyed in greater glory of blossom than this Canadian forest in glory of foliage.

'What can it be, Robert?' asked Linda, after drinking in the delight of colour in a long silent gaze. 'Why have we never such magnificence upon our trees at home?'

'People say it is the sudden frost striking the sap; or that there is some peculiar power in the sunbeams—actinic power, I believe 'tis called—to paint the leaves thus; but one thing seems fatal to this supposition, that after a very dry summer the colouring is not near so brilliant as it would be otherwise. I'm inclined to repose faith in the frost theory myself; for I have noticed that after a scorching hot day and sharp night in August, the maples come out in scarlet next morning.'

'Now, at home there would be some bald patches on the trees,' observed Arthur. 'The leaves seem to fall wholesale here, after staying on till the last.'

'I have heard much of the Indian summer,' said Linda, 'but it far exceeds my expectation. An artist would be thought mad who transferred such colouring to his canvas, as natural. Just look at the brilliant gleam in the water all along under that bank, from the golden leafage above it; and yonder the reflection is a vermilion stain. I never saw anything so lovely. I hope it will last a long time, Bob.'

That was impossible to say; sometimes the Indian summer was for weeks, sometimes but for a few days; Canadians had various opinions as to its arrival and duration: September, October, or November might have portions of the dreamy hazy weather thus called. As to why the name was given, nobody could tell; except it bore reference to an exploded idea that the haze characteristic of the time of the year arose from the burning of the great grassy prairies far west by the red men.

'What has become of your colony of Indians?' asked Armytage, 'those who lived near the cedar swamp?'

'Oh, they left us in "the whortleberry moon," as they call August, and migrated to some region where that fruit abounds, to gather and store it for winter use. They smoke the berries over a slow fire, I am told, and when dry, pack them in the usual birch-bark makaks; and I've seen them mixed with the dough of bread, and boiled with venison or porcupine, or whatever other meat was going, as we would use whole pepper.'

'After the whortleberries, they were to go to the rice-grounds,' observed Arthur. 'Bob, suppose we paddle over and try for ducks in the rice-beds, to the lee of that island.'

Here were some hundred yards of shallow water, filled with the tall graceful plant, named by the Jesuits 'folle avoine,' and by the English 'wild rice.' The long drooping ears filled with very large grains, black outside and white within, shook down their contents into the silt at bottom with every movement which waved their seven-feet stems. Arthur knew it as a noted haunt of wild duck, a cloud of which arose when he fired.

'It was here we met all the pigeons the other day,' said he. 'Those trees were more like the inside of a feather-bed than anything else, so covered were they with fluttering masses of birds; you couldn't see a bit of the foliage; and 'twas quite amusing to watch some of them lighting on the rice, which wasn't strong enough to support them, and trying to pick out the grains. As they could neither swim nor stand, they must have been thoroughly tantalized. Don't you remember, Armytage?'

But their main business, the plums, must be attended to; the islet was found which was bordered with festoons of them, hanging over the edge in the coves; and after due feasting on the delicious aromatic fruit, they gathered some basketsful. When that was done, it was high time to paddle homewards; the sun was gliding forth from the roseate vault over the western rim, and a silvery haze rose from the waters, softly veiling the brilliant landscape.

'A great improvement to your charcoal forest, it must be owned,' said Robert, pointing Armytage to where the sharp black tops of rampikes projected over the mist. The young man did not relish allusions to that folly of his father's, and was silent.

'Oh, Bob, what a pretty islet!' exclaimed Linda, as they passed a rock crested with a few trees, and almost carpeted by the brilliant red foliage of the pyrola, or winter green. 'The bushes make quite a crimson wreath round the yellow poplars.'

'I think,' said Robert, with deliberation, 'it would be almost worth the voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to see this single day of "the pink mist."'



CHAPTER XXXVI.

BELOW ZERO.

Indian summer was succeeded by the 'temps boucaneux,' when hoarfrost drooped noiselessly on the night its silver powder on all the dazzling colouring, presenting nature robed in a delicate white guise each morning, which the sun appropriated to himself as soon as he could get above the vapours. Now were the vast waters of Canada passing from a fluid to a solid form, giving out caloric in quantities, accompanied by these thin mists. Towards the close of November navigation ceases on the Ottawa; the beginning of December sees the mighty river frozen over. Yet it lies in the latitude of Bordeaux! All honour to the benevolent Gulf Stream which warms France and England comfortably.

When Linda's fingers were particularly cold, she would puzzle Robert and her father with questions as to why this should be so. Mr. Holt once told her that the prevailing wind came from the north-west across a vast expanse of frozen continent and frozen ocean. Also that James's Bay, the southern tongue of Hudson's, was apt to get choked with masses of ice drifted in from the arctic seas, and which, being without a way of escape, just jammed together and radiated cold in company on the surrounding lands.

This explanation was given and received within earshot of a splendid fire on one of those tremendous January mornings when the temperature is perhaps twenty-five degrees below zero, when the very smoke cannot disperse in the frozen atmosphere, and the breath of man and beast returns upon them in snowy particles. Nobody cares to be out of doors, for the air cuts like a knife, and one's garments stiffen like sheet-iron. Linda stands at the window of the little parlour—well she understands now why the hearth was made almost as wide as one side of the room—and looks out on the white world, and on the coppery sun struggling to enlighten the icy heavens, and on that strange phenomenon, the ver glas, gleaming from every tree.

'Now, Mr. Holt, as you have been good enough to attempt an explanation of the cold, perhaps you could tell me the cause of the ver glas? What makes that thin incrustation of ice over the trunk and every twig which has been attracting my admiration these three days? It was as if each tree was dressed in a tight-fitting suit of crystal when the sun succeeded in shining a little yesterday.'

'I imagine that the cause was the slight thaw on Monday, and the freezing of the moisture that then covered the bark and branches into a coat of ice. So I only attempt explanations, Miss Linda.'

'Oh, but it is not your fault if they are unsatisfactory, as I own that of the north-west winds and James's Bay was to me; it is the fault of science. I'm afraid you'll not answer another question which I have, since I am so ungrateful as not to accept everything you say with becoming reverence.'

'Name your question.'

'Why is every fourth day milder than the others? Why may we reckon with almost certainty on a degree of soft weather to-morrow?'

'Those are the tertian intervals, and nobody understands them.'

'Concise and candid, if it doesn't make me wiser; but I'm compensated for that in finding something of which you are equally ignorant with myself, Mr. Holt.'

Remarks of a more superficial character were extorted by the severity of the weather from the inmates of the kitchen.

'Arrah, Miss Libby asthore, wor ye able to sleep one wink last night wid the crakling of the threes? I niver heerd'—

'Sartin sure I was,' replied the rubicund damsel, as she moved briskly about her work. She had a peculiarity of wearing very short skirts, lest they should impede her progress; but once that Andy ventured a complimentary joke on her ankles, he met with such scathing scorn that he kept aloof from the subject in future, though often sorely tempted.

'Nothen ever kep me waking,' asseverated the Yankee girl with perfect truth. 'Now, young man, jest git out o' my way; warm yar hands in yar hair, if you've a mind teu—it's red enough, I guess.'

'Throth an' I wish I could take your advice, Miss; or if you'd give me a few sparks of yer own hot timper, I needn't ever come up to the hearth at all at all.'

'Thar, go 'long with you for a consaited sot-up chap, an' bring in a couple of armfuls of wood,' said the lady. 'I reckon you'd best take care of your hair settin' fire to the logs, Mister Handy,' she added with a chuckle.

Linda entered the kitchen on some household business, and Mr. Callaghan was too respectful to retort in her presence. But this is a specimen of the odd sort of sparring which Arthur chose to consider courtship, and to rally both parties about.

''Deed then I hope 'tisn't the likes of a crooked stick of her kind I'd be afther bringin' home at long last,' Andy would say, wielding his axe with redoubled vigour.

'I guess I ain't agoin' jest to be sich a soft un as to take the care of him for nothen',' the lady would say, flouncing about her kitchen and laying ineffable emphasis on the last word. Whence it would appear that the feud was irreconcilable.

Next day was bright, and the mercury had climbed nearer to zero; so the sleigh was had out—Mr. Holt's sleigh, which had brought him from Mapleton to Cedar Creek, and was very much at everybody's service while he remained. Linda dressed in her warmest attire, and prepared for a run to the 'Corner' with her father. The sleigh was but a 'cutter' for carrying two, and had handsome robes of its equipment, a pair for each seat; one of wolf-skins garnished with a row of tails at the bottom and lined with scarlet; another a bear-skin, in which the beast's grim countenance had been preserved, and his claws affixed as a fringe. When Linda was comfortably wrapped up, Mr. Holt produced a third robe to throw over all.

'What a curious texture! a platted material and yet fur!' she said, looking at it.

''Tis of Indian manufacture, and I believe is made of rabbit skins cut in strips, twisted and netted together so as to keep the hair outside on both surfaces. You have a lovely day for your trip; I hope you will enjoy it.'

Did she not? A large set-off against the severity of a Canadian winter should be the ecstatic pleasures of sleighing. Those who have not tasted it know not the highest bliss of movement. Gliding smoothly and rapidly over the solid snow to the tinkling music of bells, the motion alone has something in it most exhilarating, to say nothing of the accompaniments of the ride, the clear bracing air, the beauty of the frost-bound forests all around. Linda was determined that her friend Edith should have her share of the enjoyment this brilliant day: so, stopping the 'steel-shod sleigh' at Daisy Burn, she persuaded Miss Armytage to don her cloak and muffetees and warm hood, and take her place beside Mr. Wynn for the rest of the way to the 'Corner' and back.

Edith had been in the midst of ironing her father's and brother's linen, while Jay read aloud. As soon as she was gone, despite the protestations of the little girl, Linda took the smoothing iron herself, and continued the work merrily. While thus engaged, and Jay getting through her history lesson still, a scratching was heard at the outside door of the kitchen.

'That's Ponto; what can have brought him home? he went with Reginald to chop at the edge of the clearing.'

The dog was no sooner admitted than he jumped on them both, pulled their gowns, ran back whining, and repeated these movements many times.

'He wants us to go with him, Jay—don't you think so?'



CHAPTER XXXVII.

A CUT, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

What could be the matter? Ponto, at all events, seemed to think it of much importance, for he never ceased to pull their skirts and whine an entreaty, and go through the pantomime of running off in a great hurry—never farther than the threshold—until he saw the girls put on their cloaks and hoods. Gravely he sat on his tail, looking at them with patient eyes, and, when the door was opened, sprang off madly towards the pond.

'Could Reginald have sent him for anything? Something might have happened to Reginald. Ponto never came home in that way before. Could a tree have fallen on Reginald?' and Jay's small hand shivered in Linda's at the thought. They hurried after the dog, over the spotless surface of snow, into the charred forest, where now every trunk and bough of ebony seemed set in silver. Thither Reginald had gone to chop at noon, in a little fit of industry. They were guided to the spot by the sad whinings of faithful Ponto, who could not comprehend why his master was lying on the ground, half against a tree, and what meant that large crimson stain deepening in the pure snow.

A desperate axe-cut in his foot—this was the matter. Linda almost turned sick at the sight; but Jay, compressing her white lips very firmly, to shut in a scream, kneeled down by her brother.

He had succeeded, with infinite effort, in drawing off his long leather boot, through which the axe had penetrated, and had been trying to bind his neckcloth tightly above the ankle. Jay helped him with all her little strength.

'Give me a stick,' said he hoarsely—'a strong stick;' Linda flew to find one. 'Something to make a tourniquet;' and, not readily seeing any wood to answer the want, she used his axe, stained as it was, to chop a branch from the single tree he had felled. She had never tried her strength of arm in this way before; but now the axe felt quite light, from her excitement. Before the stick could be ready, in her unpractised fingers, Jay cried out, 'Oh, Linda, he is dying! he has fainted!'

Still, she had common sense to know that the first necessity was to stop the bleeding; so, quieting the little sister by a word or two, she inserted the stick in the bandage above the ankle, and turned it more than once, so as to tighten the ligament materially. Looking at the pallid features, another thought struck her.

'Let us heap up snow round the wounded foot and leg; I'm sure the cold must be good for it;' and, with the axe for their only shovel, the two girls gathered a pile of frozen snow, as a cushion and covering to the limb—'Oh, if Edith were here! if Edith were here!' being Jay's suppressed cry.

'Where is the labourer whom I saw working on the farm?'

'Gone away; discharged last week. Papa said he couldn't afford to pay him any longer. That's why Reginald went out to chop to-day. Oh, Linda, I wish somebody came. He is lying so white and still: are you sure he is not dead?'

His head was on the little sister's lap, and Linda chafed the temples with snow. Would the sleigh-bells ever be heard? She longed for help of some sort. As to surgery, there was not a practitioner within thirty miles. What could be done with such a bad hurt as this without a surgeon?

A universal slight shudder, and a tremor of the eyelids, showed that consciousness was returning to the wounded man. Almost at the same instant Ponto raised his head, and ran off through the trees, whining. A man's footsteps were presently heard coming rapidly over the crisp snow. It was Mr. Holt: and a mountain load of responsibility and dread was lifted from Linda's mind at the sight of him. This was not the first time that she had felt in his presence the soothing sense of confidence and restfulness.

He could not help praising them a little for what they had done with the primitive tourniquet and the styptic agency of the snow. Beyond tightening the bandage by an additional twist or two of the inserted stick, he could do nothing more for the patient till he was removed to the house; but he began collateral help by cutting poles for a litter, and sent Jay and Linda for straps of basswood bark to fasten them together. When the sleigh at last came up the avenue, Mr. Wynn the elder helped him to carry young Armytage home, wherein Sam Holt's great physical strength carefully bore two-thirds of the dead weight.

It seemed that he had been chopping up that fir for firewood, perhaps without giving much thought to his work, when the axe, newly sharpened before he came out, caught in a crooked branch, which diverted almost the whole force of the blow on his own foot. Well was it that Mr. Holt, in his erratic education, had chosen to pry into the mysteries of surgery for one session, and knew something of the art of putting together severed flesh and bone; although many a dreadful axe wound is cured in the backwoods by settlers who never heard of a diploma, but nevertheless heal with herbs and bandages, which would excite the scornful mirth of a clinical student.

Thus began a long season of illness and weakness for the young man, so recently in the rudest health and strength. It was very new to his impetuous spirit, and very irksome, to lie all day in the house, not daring to move the injured limb, and under the shadow of Zack Bunting's cheerful prediction, that he guessed the young fellar might be a matter o' six or eight months a-lyin' thar, afore such a big cut healed, ef he warn't lamed for life.

Reginald chafed and grumbled and sulked for many a day; but the fact could not be gainsaid; those divided veins and tendons and nerves must take long to unite again; Mr. Holt found him one morning in such an unquiet mood.

'Armytage,' said he, after the usual attentions to the wound, 'I suppose you consider this axe-cut a great misfortune?'

'"Misfortune!"' and he rose on his elbow in one of the fifty positions he was wont, for very restlessness, to assume. 'Misfortune! I should think I do: nothing much worse could have happened. Look at the farm, without a hand on it, going to rack and ruin'—

Rather a highly coloured picture; and Reginald seemed to forget that, while his limbs were whole, he had devoted them almost entirely to amusement. Mr. Holt heard him out patiently.

'I should not be surprised if it proved one of the best events of your life,' he observed; 'that is, if you will allow it to fulfil the object for which it was sent.'

'Oh, that's your doctrine of a particular providence,' said the other peevishly, lying back again.

'Yes; my doctrine of a particular providence, taught in every leaf of the Bible. Now, Armytage, look back calmly over your past life, and forward, whither you were drifting, and see if the very kindest thing that could be done for you by an all-wise and all-loving God was not to bring you up suddenly, and lay you aside, and force you to think. Beware of trying to frustrate His purpose.'

Mr. Holt went away immediately on saying that, for he had no desire to amuse Reginald with an unprofitable controversy which might ensue, but rather to lodge the one truth in his mind, if possible. Young Armytage thought him queer and methodistical; but he could not push out of his memory that short conversation. Twenty times he resolved to think of something else, and twenty times the dismissed idea came round again, and the calm forcible words visited him, 'Beware of trying to frustrate God's purpose.'

At last he called to his sister Edith, who was busy at some housework in the kitchen, across a little passage.

'Come here; I want to ask you a question. Do you think that I am crippled as a punishment for my misdeeds, idleness, etcetera?'

'Indeed, I do not,' she answered with surprise. 'What put such a thought into your head?'

'Holt said something like it. He thinks this axe-cut of mine is discipline—perhaps like the breaking-in which a wild colt requires; and as you and he are of the same opinion in religious matters, I was curious to know if you held this dogma also.'

She looked down for a moment. 'Not quite as you have represented it,' she said. 'But I do think that when the Lord sends peculiar outward circumstances, He intends them to awake the soul from indifference, and bring it to see the intense reality of invisible things. Oh, Reginald,' she added, with a sudden impulse of earnestness, 'I wish you felt that your soul is the most precious thing on earth.'

He was moved more than he would have cared to confess, by those tearful eyes and clasped hands; he knew that she went away to pray for him, while about her daily business. More serious thoughts than he had ever experienced were his that afternoon: Jay could not avoid remarking—in private—on his unusual quietude. Next morning he found a Bible beside his bed, laid there by Edith, he had no doubt; but for a long time she could not discover whether he ever looked into it.

When Mr. Holt left the country, he gave Robert Wynn charge of the patient mentally as well as corporeally. He knew that Robert's own piety would grow more robust for giving a helping hand to another.

Somehow, the Yankee storekeeper was very often hanging about Daisy Burn that winter. Captain Armytage and he were great friends. That gallant officer was, in Zack's parlance, 'the Colonel,' which brevet-rank I suppose was flattering, as it was never seriously disclaimed. He was king of his company in the tavern bar at the 'Corner;' and few days passed on which he did not enjoy that bad eminence, while compounding 'brandy-smash,' 'rum-salad,' 'whisky-skin,' or some other of the various synonyms under which the demon of drink ruins people in Canada.

But where did the captain find cash for this? The fact is, he never paid in ready money; for that was unknown to his pockets, and very rare in the district. He paid in sundry equivalents of produce; and a nice little mortgage might be effected on his nice little farm of Daisy Burn if needs be. Zack held his greedy grasping fingers over it; for the family were obliged to go a good deal in debt for sundry necessities. Slave and scrape as Miss Armytage might, she had no way of raising money for such things as tea and coffee. Once she attempted to make dandelion roots, roasted and ground, do duty for the latter; but it was stigmatized as a failure, except by loving little Jay. Then wages must be paid to the Irish labourer, whose services to chop wood, etc., were now absolutely necessary. Meat was another item of expense. A large store of potatoes was almost the sole provision upon which the household could reckon with certainty; mismanagement and neglect had produced the usual result of short crops in the foregoing season, and their wheat went chiefly to the store in barter.

'An' ef Zack ain't shavin' the capting, I guess I'm a Dutchman,' remarked a neighbouring settler to Robert. 'I reckon a matter of two year'll shave him out o' Daisy Burn, clear and clean.'

But its owner had some brilliant scheme in the future for lifting him free of every embarrassment. Rainbow tints illuminated all prospective pages of Captain Armytage's life.

'Edith, my dear,' he would say, if that young lady deprecated any fresh expenditure, or ventured an advice concerning the farm,—'Edith, my dear, the main fault of your character is an extraordinary want of the sanguine element, for the excess of which I have always been so remarkable. You know I compare it to the life-buoy, which has held me up above the most tempestuous waves of the sea of existence, eh! But you, my poor dear girl, have got a sad way of looking at things—a gloomy temperament, I should call it perhaps, eh? which is totally opposite to my nature. Now, as to this beast, which Mr. Bunting will let me have for twenty-eight dollars, a note of hand at three months, he is kind enough to say, will do as well as cash. And then, Reginald, my boy, we need drink cafe noir no longer, but can have the proper cafe au lait every morning.'

'I don't know who is to milk the cow, sir,' said his son, rather bluntly. 'Edith is overwhelmed with work already.'

'Ah, poor dear! she is very indefatigable.' He looked at her patronizingly, while he wiped his well-kept moustache in a handkerchief which she had washed. 'Indeed, Edith, I have sometimes thought that such continual exertion as yours is unnecessary. You should think of us all, and spare yourself, my child.'

'I do, papa,' she answered: whether that she thought of them all, or that she spared herself, she did not explain. Her brother knew which it was.

'That is right, my child. It grieves me to see you condescending to menial offices, unsuitable to your rank and position.'

She did not ask—as a less gentle nature would have asked—who else was to be the menial, if not she?

'That is the worst of a bush life. If I had known how difficult it is to retain one's sphere as a gentleman, I think I should not have exposed myself to the alternative of pecuniary loss or debasing toil. Perhaps it would be well to walk down to the "Corner" now, and conclude that bargain with our good friend the storekeeper, eh? Is there anything I can do for either of you, eh? Don't hesitate to command me,' he added blandly. 'What! you want nothing? A very fortunate pair—very fortunate, indeed, eh?' And Captain Armytage kissed hands out of the room.

'Edith,' said her brother, after a pause of some minutes, 'my father will be ruined by his confidence in that man. Bunting can twine him round his finger. I am ashamed of it.'

She shook her head sadly. But there was no help for the fact that their father was in the toils already; unless, indeed, the debt could be paid off, and the acquaintanceship severed. Hopeless! for the tendencies of a life cannot be remodelled in a day, except by the power of divine grace.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES.

Sleighing was good that year, till the middle of March. Before the season was past, Captain Argent paid a flying visit on his way to the hunting grounds, as usual, and on his return found something so pleasant in the household at Cedar Creek, that he remained many days.

They were all old acquaintances, to be sure, and had many subjects of interest in common. Mr. Wynn the elder, who, perhaps, was imbued with a little of the true Briton's reverence for aristocracy, was pleased to entertain his former neighbour, Lord Scutcheon's son, especially when that young officer himself was endowed with such a frank, genial bearing as rendered him almost a universal favourite.

Had there ever been more than mere pleasant acquaintanceship between him and Miss Wynn? Rightly or wrongly, Sam Holt fancied it the case. He heard many allusions to former times and incidents, not knowing that as children they had been playmates. The gallant captain's present admiration was pretty plain; and the young lady was amused by it after the manner of her sex. Being very downright himself, Mr. Holt had no idea how much admiration is required to fill the measure of a proposal of marriage in a red-coat's resolve, or how much harmless coquetry lies dormant in the sweetest woman.

The precipitate gentleman leaped to sundry conclusions, gathered himself and his fur robes into his cutter, and left on the third day of Captain Argent's visit. In her secret heart, I imagine that Linda knew why.

But an engrossing affair to her at this period was the concealment from their visitor of the decidedly active part she took in household duties. Innocent Captain Argent was unaware that the faultless hot bread at breakfast was wrought by her hands; that the omelets and ragouts at dinner owned her as cook; that the neatness of the little parlour was attributable to her as its sole housemaid. The mighty maiden called Liberia had enough to do in other departments, outdoor as well as indoor, besides being rather a ponderous person for a limited space.

And so, when Captain Argent one morning pushed open the parlour door long before he ought to have left his apartment, he beheld a figure with short petticoats, wrapt in a grey blouse, and having a hood of the same closely covering her hair, dusting away at the chairs and tables and shelves, with right goodwill.

'Now, Georgie, you know that you can't sit here till I have quite finished,' said the figure, without turning its head. 'Like a good boy, ask Libby to come and build up the fire: ask gently, remember, or she'll not mind you.'

The noiseless manner of closing the door caused her first to doubt the identity of the person spoken to, and a very vivid crimson dyed her cheeks, when, Liberia coming in, her blacksmith arms laden with logs, she threw them down with resounding clatter, and said, 'Wal, ef that ain't the nicest, soft speakin'est gentleman I ever see! He asked me as perlite for the wood, as he couldn't be perliter ef I war Queen Victory herself.'

'How fortunate that I didn't turn round my head!' thought Linda, her first confusion over; 'for of all horridly unbecoming things, showing no hair about one's face is the worst.'

Whence it will be seen that Miss Wynn was not exempt from female vanity.

To the cat thus let out of the bag, Captain Argent made no further allusion than was involved in a sudden fondness for the nursery tale of Cinderella. Every subject of conversation introduced for the morning was tinged by that fairy legend, which tinged Linda's countenance also, rose-colour. Mr. Wynn the elder was slightly mystified; for the topics of promotion by purchase in the army, and the emigration of half-pay officers, seemed to have no leading reference to the above world-famed story.

The dear old gentleman! he did the honours of his small wooden cottage at Cedar Creek as finely as if it had been his own ancestral mansion of Dunore. Their delf cups might have been Dresden, the black ware teapot solid silver, the coarse table-cloth damask—for the very air which he spread around the breakfast arrangements. One might have fancied that he infused an orange-pekoe flavour into the rough muddy congou for which Bunting exacted the highest price. He did not know that the coffee, which he strongly recommended to his guest, was of native Canadian growth, being to all intents and purposes dandelion roots; for you see they were obliged to conceal many of their contrivances from this grand old father. I doubt if he was aware that candles were made on the premises: likewise soap, by Liberia's energetic hands. The dandelion expedient was suggested by thrifty Mrs. Davidson, who had never bought a pound of coffee since she emigrated; and exceedingly well the substitute answered, with its bitter aromatic flavour, and pleasant smell. If Captain Argent had looked into the little house closet, he would have seen a quantity of brownish roots cut up and stored on a shelf. Part of Linda's morning duty was to chop a certain quantity of these to the size of beans, roast them on a pan, and grind a cupful for breakfast. They cost nothing but the trouble of gathering from among the potato heaps, when the hills were turned up in autumn, and a subsequent washing and spreading in the sun to dry.

Mrs. Davidson would also fain have introduced peppermint and sage tea; but even Zack's bad congou was declared more tolerable than those herb drinks, which many a settler imbibes from year to year.

'Throth an' there's no distinction o' thrades at all in this counthry,' said Andy; 'but every man has to be a farmer, an' a carpinther, an' a cobbler, an' a tailor, an' a grocer itself! There's Misther Robert med an iligant shute o' canvas for the summer; an' Misther Arthur is powerful at boots; an' sorra bit but Miss Linda spins yarn first-rate, considherin' she never held a distaff before. An' the darlin' Missus knits stockins; oh mavrone, but she's the beautiful sweet lady intirely, that ought to be sitting in her carriage!'

News arrived from Dunore this spring, which Linda fancied would sorely discompose Andy. The Wynns kept up a sort of correspondence with the old tenantry, who loved them much. In an April letter it was stated that the pretty blue-eyed Mary Collins, Andy's betrothed, had been base enough to marry another, last Shrovetide. But the detaching process had gone on at this side of the Atlantic also. Linda was amazed at the apathy with which the discarded lover received the intelligence. He scratched his red head, and looked somewhat bewildered; indulged in a few monosyllable ejaculations, and half an hour afterwards came back to the parlour to ask her 'if she was in airnest, to say that over agin.'

'Poor fellow! he has not yet comprehended the full extent of his loss,' thought the young lady compassionately. She broke the news to him once more, and he went away without a remark.

When Arthur came in, she would beg of him to look after the poor suffering fellow. The request was on her lips at his appearance, but he interrupted her with,—

'What do you think of that scamp, Andy, proposing for Libby in my hearing? The fellow told her that his heart was in her keeping, and that she was the light of his life, and grew quite poetical, I assure you; in return for which, he was hunted round the wood-yard with a log!'

And Linda's sympathy expired.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

SETTLER THE SECOND.

Next summer brought a scourge of frequent visitation to the 'Corner.' Lake fever and ague broke out among the low-lying log-houses, and Zack's highly adulterated and heavily priced drugs came into great demand. He was the farthest west adventurer at that date who took upon him to supply apothecary's wares among the threescore and ten other vendibles of a backwoods store. So the ill wind which blew hot fits and cold fits to everybody else blew profit into Zack's pockets.

The population had swelled somewhat since our first introduction to this little pioneer settlement. The number of wooden huts mottling the cleared space between the forest and the river edge, clustering, like bees round their queen, about the saw and grist mill, had increased during the last two years by some half-score—a slow rate of progression, as villages grow in Canada; but the 'Corner' had a position unfavourable to development. An aguish climate will make inhabitants sheer off speedily to healthier localities. No sensible emigrant will elect to live on a marshy site where he can help it. The value of the 'Corner' was just now as a stage on the upper branch of that great western highway, whose proper terminus lies no nearer than the Pacific, and whose course is through the fertile country of future millions of men.

This summer waggon-loads of emigrants and their chattels began to file each month into the bush beyond. Cedar Creek ceased to be farthest west by a great many outlying stations where the axe was gradually letting in light on the dusky forest soil. To these the 'Corner' must be the emporium, until some enterprising person set up a store and mills deeper in the wilderness.