Neville Trueman the Pioneer Preacher | Page 8

more. The Americans have been massing their forces at Forts Porter, Schlosser, and Niagara, and we expect will be attempting a crossing somewhere along the river soon."
"They'll go back quicker than they came, I guess, as they did at Sandwich," said Zenas, who took an enthusiastically patriotic view of the prowess of his countrymen.
"I reckon the 'Mericans feel purty sore over that business," said Tom Loker, who, with Sandy McKay, had come in, and, in the unconventional style of the period, had drawn up their seats to the fire. "They calkilated they'd gobble up the hull of Canada; but 'stead of that, they lost the hull State of Michigan an' their great General Hull into the bargain," and he chuckled over his play upon words, after the manner of a man who has uttered a successful pun.
"You must tell us all about it," said Neville: "I have not heard the particulars yet."
"After supper," said the squire. "We'll discuss the venison first and the war afterwards," and there was a general move to the table.
When ample justice had been done to the savoury repast, Miss Katherine intimated that a good fire had been kindled in the Franklin stove in the parlour, and, in honour of the guest, proposed an adjournment thither.
The squire, however, looked at the leaping flames of the kitchen fire as if reluctant to leave it, and Neville asked as a favour to be allowed to bask, "like a cat in the sun," he said, before it.
"I'm glad you like the old-fashioned fires," said the farmer. "They're a-most like the camp-fire beside which we used to bivouac when I went a-sogering. I can't get the hang o' those new-fangled Yankee notions," he continued, referring to the parlour stove, named after the great philosopher whose name it bore.
A large semicircle of seats was drawn up around the hearth. The squire took down from the mantel his long-stemmed "churchwarden" pipe.
"I learned to smoke in Old Virginny," he said apologetically. "Had the real virgin leaf. It had often to be both meat and drink when I was campaigning there. I wish I could quit it; but, young man," addressing himself to Neville, "I'd advise you never to learn. It's bad enough for an old sojer like me; but a smoking preacher I don't admire."
Zenas, crouched by the chimney-jamb, roasting chestnuts and "popping" corn; Sandy, with the characteristic thrift of his countrymen, set about repairing a broken whip-stock and fitting it with a new lash; Tom Loker idly whittled a stick, and Miss Katharine drew up her low rocking-chair beside her father, and proceeded to nimbly knit a stout-ribbed stocking, intended for his comfort--for girls in those days knew how to knit, ay, and card the wool and spin the yarn too.
"Now, Tom, tell us all about Hull's surrender," said Zenas, to whom the stirring story was already an oft-told tale.
"Wall, after I seed you, three months agone," said Tom, nodding to Neville, and taking a fresh stick to whittle, "we trudged on all that day and the next to Long P'int, an' a mighty long p'int it wuz to reach, too. Never wuz so tired in my life. Follering the plough all day wuz nothing to it. But when we got to the P'int, we found the Gineral there. An' he made us a rousin' speech that put new life into every man of us, an' we felt that we could foller him anywheres. As ther wuz no roads to speak of, and the Gineral had considerable stores, he seized all the boats he could find."
"Requiseetioned, they ca' it," interjected Sandy.
"Wall, it's purty much the same, I reckon," continued Tom, "an' a queer lot o' boats they wuz--fishin' boats, Durham boats, scows [Footnote: In the absence of roads, boats were much used for carrying corn and flour to and from the mills, and for the conveyance of farm produce.]--a'most anythin' that 'ud float. Ther' wuz three hundred of us at the start, an' we picked up more on the way. Wall, we sailed an' paddled a matter o' two hundred miles to Fort Malden, an' awful cramped it wuz, crouchin' all day in them scows; an' every night we camped on shore, but sometimes the bank wuz so steep an' the waves so high we had to sail on for miles to find a creek we could run into, an' once we rowed all night. As we weathered P'int Pelee, the surf nearly swamped us."
"What a gran' feed we got frae thae gallant Colonel Talbot!" interjected Sandy McKay. "D'ye mind his bit log bothie perched like a craw's nest atop o' yon cliff. The 'Castle o' Malahide,' he ca'd it, no less. How he speered gin there were ony men frae Malahide in the auld kintry wi' us! An' a prood man