Lost in the Backwoods | Page 9

famine; death, cruel and horrible, by wolves or bears; or, yet more
terrible, with tortures by the hands of the dreaded Indians, who
occasionally held their councils and hunting-parties on the hills about
the Rice Lake, which was known only by the elder Perron as the scene
of many bloody encounters between the rival tribes of the Mohawks
and Chippewas. Its localities were scarcely ever visited by the settlers,
lest haply they should fall into the hands of the bloody Mohawks,
whose merciless disposition made them in those days a by-word even
to the less cruel Chippewas and other Indian nations.
It was not in the direction of the Rice Lake that Maxwell and his
brother-in-law sought their lost children; and even if they had done so,
among the deep glens and hill passes of what is now commonly called
the Plains, they would have stood little chance of discovering the poor
wanderers. After many days of fatigue of body and distress of mind, the
sorrowing parents sadly relinquished the search as utterly hopeless, and
mourned in bitterness of spirit over the disastrous fate of their first-born
and beloved children. "There was a voice of woe, and lamentation, and
great mourning; Rachel weeping for her children, and refusing to be
comforted, because they were not."
The miserable uncertainty that involved the fate of the lost ones was an
aggravation to the sufferings of the mourners. Could they but have been
certified of the manner of their deaths, they fancied they should be
more contented; but, alas! this fearful satisfaction was withheld
"Oh, were their tale of sorrow known, 'Twere something to the
breaking heart; The pangs of doubt would then be gone, And fancy's
endless dreams depart."
But let us quit the now mournful settlement of Cold Springs, and see
how it really fared with the young wanderers.
When they awoke, the valley was filled with a white creamy mist, that
arose from the bed of the stream (now known as Cold Creek), and gave
an indistinctness to the whole landscape, investing it with an

appearance perfectly different to that which it had worn by the bright,
clear light of the moon. No trace of their footsteps remained to guide
them in retracing their path, so hard and dry was the stony ground that
it left no impression on its surface. It was with some difficulty they
found the creek, which was concealed from sight by a lofty screen of
gigantic hawthorns, high-bush cranberries, poplars, and birch trees. The
hawthorn was in blossom, and gave out a sweet perfume, not less
fragrant than the "May," which makes the lanes and hedgerows of
"merrie old England" so sweet and fair in May and June.
At length their path began to grow more difficult. A tangled mass of
cedars, balsams, birch, black ash, alders, and tamarack (Indian name
for the larch), with a dense thicket of bushes and shrubs, such as love
the cool, damp soil of marshy ground, warned our travellers that they
must quit the banks of the friendly stream, or they might become
entangled in a trackless swamp. Having taken copious and refreshing
draughts from the bright waters, and bathed their hands and faces, they
ascended the grassy bank, and, again descending, found themselves in
one of those long valleys, enclosed between lofty sloping banks,
clothed with shrubs and oaks, with here and there a stately pine.
Through this second valley they pursued their way, till, emerging into a
wider space, they came among those singularly picturesque groups of
rounded gravel-hills, where the Cold Creek once more met their view,
winding its way towards a grove of evergreens, where it was again lost
to the eye.
This lovely spot was known as Sackville's Mill-dike. The hand of man
had curbed the free course of the wild forest stream, and made it
subservient to his will, but could not destroy the natural beauties of the
scene.
Fearing to entangle themselves in the swamp, they kept the hilly
ground, winding their way up to the summit of the lofty ridge of the
oak hills, the highest ground they had yet attained; and here it was that
the silver waters of the Rice Lake in all its beauty burst upon the eyes
of the wondering and delighted travellers. There it lay, a sheet of liquid
silver, just emerging from the blue veil of mist that hung upon its

surface and concealed its wooded shores on either side. All feeling of
dread, and doubt, and danger was lost for the time in one rapturous
glow of admiration at the scene so unexpected and so beautiful as that
which they now gazed upon from the elevation they had gained. From
this ridge they looked down the lake, and the eye could take in an
extent of