Life in the Backwoods | Page 9

woods. She drew such a
lively picture of the charms of a summer residence in the forest that I
began to feel greatly interested in her descriptions, and to rejoice that
we too were to be her near neighbours and dwellers in the woods; and
this circumstance not a little reconciled me to the change.
Hoping that my husband would derive an income equal to the one he
had parted with from the investment of the price of his commission in
the steamboat stock, I felt no dread of want. Our legacy of £700 had
afforded us means to purchase land, build our house, and give out a
large portion of land to be cleared, and, with a considerable sum of
money still in hand, our prospects for the future were in no way
discouraging.
When we reached the top of the ridge that overlooked our cot, my sister
stopped, and pointed out a large dwelling among the trees. "There,
S----," she said, "is your home. When that black cedar swamp is cleared
away, that now hides the lake from us, you will have a very, pretty
view." My conversation with her had quite altered the aspect of the
country, and predisposed me to view things in the most favourable light.
I found Moodie and Monaghan employed in piling up heaps of bush
near the house, which they intended to burn off by hand previous to
firing the rest of the fallow, to prevent any risk to the building from fire.
The house was made of cedar logs, and presented a superior air of
comfort to most dwellings of the same kind. The dimensions were

thirty-six feet in length, and thirty-two in breadth, which gave us a nice
parlour, a kitchen, and two small bedrooms, which were divided by
plank partitions. Pantry or storeroom there was none; some rough
shelves in the kitchen, and a deal cupboard n a corner of the parlour,
being the extent of our accommodations in that way.
Our servant, Mary Tate, was busy scrubbing out the parlour and
bedroom; but the kitchen, and the sleeping-room off it, were still
knee-deep in chips, and filled with the carpenter's bench and tools, and
all our luggage. Such as it was, it was a palace when compared to Old
Satan's log hut, or the miserable cabin we had wintered in during the
severe winter of 1833, and I regarded it with complacency as my future
home.
While we were standing outside the building, conversing with my
husband, a young gentleman, of the name of Morgan, who had lately
purchased land in that vicinity, went into the kitchen to light his pipe at
the stove, and, with true backwood carelessness, let the hot cinder fall
among the dry chips that strewed the floor. A few minutes after, the
whole mass was in a blaze, and it was not without great difficulty that
Moodie and Mr. R---- succeeded in putting out the fire. Thus were we
nearly deprived of our home before we had taken up our abode in it.
The indifference to the danger of fire in a country where most of the
dwellings are composed of inflammable materials, is truly astonishing.
Accustomed to see enormous fires blazing on every hearth-stone, and
to sleep in front of these fires, his bedding often riddled with holes
made by hot particles of wood flying out during the night, and igniting
beneath his very nose, the sturdy backwoodsman never dreads an
enemy in the element that he is used to regard as his best friend. Yet
what awful accidents, what ruinous calamities arise, out of this criminal
negligence, both to himself and others!
A few days after this adventure, we bade adieu to my sister, and took
possession of our new dwelling and commenced "a life in the woods."
The first spring we spent in comparative ease and idleness. Our cows
had been left upon our old place during the winter. The ground had to

be cleared before it could receive a crop of any kind, and I had little to
do but to wander by the lake shore, or among the woods, and amuse
myself. These were the halcyon days of the bush. My husband had
purchased a very light cedar canoe, to which he attached a keel a sail;
and most of our leisure hours, directly the snows melted, were spent
upon the water.
These fishing and shooting excursions were delightful. The pure beauty
of the Canadian water, the sombre but august grandeur of the vast
forest that hemmed us in on every side and shut us out from the rest of
the world, soon cast a magic spell upon our spirits, and we began to
feel charmed with the freedom and solitude around us. Every object
was new to us. We