Neville Trueman the Pioneer Preacher | Page 4

"Hello! what's up now?" asked her father, cheerily, as he entered the
door. He is worth looking at as he stands on the threshold, almost
filling the doorway with his large and muscular frame. He had a hearty,
ruddy, English look, a frank and honest expression in his light blue
eyes, and an impulsiveness of manner that indicated a temper--
That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Which much enforced,
showeth a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.
He was not a Methodist, but his dead wife had been one, and for her
sake, and because he had the instincts of a gentleman, of respect to the
ministerial character, he extended a hospitable welcome to the
travelling Methodist preachers, who were almost the only ministers in
the country except the clergyman of the English Church in the
neighbouring village of Niagara.
"The new preacher has come, father. He brought this letter from Elder
Ryan," said Katherine, handing him the missive.
The Squire glanced over it and said, "Any one that Elder Ryan
introduces is welcome to this house. He is a right loyal gentleman, if he

did come from the States. I am afraid, though, that the war will make it
unpleasant for most of those Yankee preachers."
"Why, father, is there any bad news?" anxiously inquired the young
girl.
"Ay! that there is," he replied, taking from his pocket the _York
Gazette_, which had just reached Niagara, three or four days after the
date of publication.
Here the young preacher returned to the house, and was cordially
welcomed by the Squire. When mutual greetings were over, "This is a
bad business," continued the host, unfolding the meagre,
greyish-looking newspaper. "I feared it would come to this, ever since
that affair of the Little Belt and President last year. There is nothing
John Bull is so sensitive about as his ships, and he can't stand defeat on
the high seas."
"War is not declared, I hope," said Neville, with much earnestness.
"Yes, it is," replied the Squire, "and what's more, Hull has crossed the
Detroit River with three thousand men. [Footnote: Rumour had
somewhat exaggerated the number of his force. It was only twenty-five
hundred.] Here is part of his proclamation. He offers 'peace, liberty,
and security,' or, 'war, slavery, and destruction.' Confound his
impudence," exclaimed the choleric farmer, striking his fist on the table
till the dishes rattled again. "He may whistle another tune before he is
much older."
"What'll Brock do, father?" exclaimed Zenas, who had listened with a
boy's open-mouthed astonishment to the exciting news.
"He'll be even with him, I'se warrant," replied the burly Squire. "He
will hasten to the frontier through the Long Point country, gathering up
the militia and Indians as he goes. They are serving out blankets and
ammunition at the fort to-night. I saw Brant at Navy Hall. He would
answer for his two hundred tomahawks from the Credit and Grand
River; and Tecumseh, he said, would muster as many more. We'll soon
hear good news from the front. The Commissary has given orders for
the victualling of Fort George. We are to take in all our hay and oats,
beef cattle, and flour next week."
"O Father, mayn't I go with Brock"? exclaimed the young enthusiast
Zenas, "I'm old enough."
"We may soon be busy enough here, my son. No place is more exposed

than this frontier. The garrisons at Forts Porter and Niagra are being
strengthened, and I could see the Yankee militia drilling as I rode to the
village."
"Hurrah!" shouted the thoughtless boy, "won't it be fun? We'll show
them how the Britishers can fight."
"God grant, my son," said the farmer solemnly, "that we may not see
more fighting than we wish. I've lived through one bloody war and I
never want to see another. But if fight we must for our country, fight
we will."
"And I'm sure none more bravely than Zenas Drayton," said Katherine
proudly, laying her hand on her brother's head.
"You ought to have been a boy, Kate," said her father admiringly.
"You've got all your mother's pluck."
"I'd be ashamed if I wouldn't stand up for my country, father: I feel as if
I could carry a musket myself."
"You can do better, Kate: you can make your country worth brave men
dying for," and he fondly kissed her forehead, while something like a
tear glistened in his eyes.
For a time Neville Trueman mused without speaking, as if the prey of
conflicting emotions. At last he said with solemn emphasis, "My choice
is made: I cast in my lot with my adopted country. I believe this
invasion of a peaceful territory by an armed host is a wanton outrage
and cannot have the smile of Heaven. I daresay I shall