Life in the Clearings versus the Bush | Page 4

highest powers,--our firmest
trust-- May future ages blend our names With hers, when we shall sleep
in dust. Land of our sons!--last-born of earth, A mighty nation nurtures
thee; The first in moral power and worth,-- Long mayst thou boast her
sovereignty!
Union is strength, while round the boughs Of thine own lofty
maple-tree; The threefold wreath of Britain flows, Twined with the
graceful fleur-de-lis; A chaplet wreathed mid smiles and tears, In which
all hues of glory blend; Long may it bloom for future years, And vigour
to thy weakness lend."
Year after year, during twenty years' residence in the colony, I had
indulged the hope of one day visiting the Falls of Niagara, and year
after year, for twenty long years, I was doomed to disappointment.
For the first ten years, my residence in the woods of Douro, my infant
family, and last, not least, among the list of objections, that great
want,--the want of money,--placed insuperable difficulties in the way of
my ever accomplishing this cherished wish of my heart.
The hope, resigned for the present, was always indulged as a bright
future--a pleasant day-dream--an event which at some unknown period,
when happier days should dawn upon us, might take place; but which
just now was entirely out of the question.
When the children were very importunate for a new book or toy, and I
had not the means of gratifying them, I used to silence them by saying
that I would buy that and many other nice things for them when "our
money cart came home."
During the next ten years, this all-important and anxiously anticipated
vehicle did not arrive. The children did not get their toys, and my
journey to Niagara was still postponed to an indefinite period.

Like a true daughter of romance, I could not banish from my mind the
glorious ideal I had formed of this wonder of the world; but still
continued to speculate about the mighty cataract, that sublime "thunder
of waters," whose very name from childhood had been music to my
ears.
Ah, Hope! what would life be, stripped of thy encouraging smiles, that
teach us to look behind the dark clouds of to-day for the golden beams
that are to gild the morrow. To those who have faith in thy promises,
the most extravagant fictions are possible; and the unreal becomes
material and tangible. The artist who placed thee upon the rock with an
anchor for a leaning post, could never have experienced any of thy
vagrant propensities. He should have invested thee with the rainbow of
Iris, the winged feet of Mercury, and the upward pointing finger of
Faith; and as for thy footstool, it should be a fleecy white cloud,
changing its form with the changing breeze.
Yet this hope of mine, of one day seeing the Falls of Niagara, was, after
all, a very enduring hope; for though I began to fear that it never would
be realized, yet, for twenty years, I never gave it up entirely; and
Patience, who always sits at the feet of Hope, was at length rewarded
by her sister's consenting smile.
During the past summer I was confined, by severe indisposition, almost
entirely to the house. The obstinate nature of my disease baffled the
skill of a very clever medical attendant, and created alarm and
uneasiness in my family: and I entertained small hopes of my own
recovery.
Dr. L---, as a last resource, recommended change of air and scene; a
remedy far more to my taste than the odious drugs from which I had
not derived the least benefit. Ill and languid as I was, Niagara once
more rose before my mental vision, and I exclaimed, with a thrill of joy,
"The time is come at last--I shall yet see it before I die."
My dear husband was to be the companion of my long journey in
search of health. Our simple arrangements were soon made, and on the
7th of September we left Belleville in the handsome new steam-boat,

"The Bay of Quinte," for Kingston.
The afternoon was cloudless, the woods just tinged with their first
autumnal glow, and the lovely bay, and its fairy isles, never appeared
more enchanting in my eyes. Often as I had gazed upon it in storm and
shine, its blue transparent waters seemed to smile upon me more
lovingly than usual. With affectionate interest I looked long and
tenderly upon the shores we were leaving. There stood my peaceful,
happy home; the haven of rest to which Providence had conducted me
after the storms and trials of many years. Within the walls of that small
stone cottage, peeping forth from its screen of young hickory trees, I
had left three dear children,--God only could tell whether we should
ever meet on earth again: