Down the River to the Sea Part 4

But the soft shadows of evening were falling on the woods and hills before them, as the steamer glided into the beautiful harbor of Port Hope--a noted harbor even in the old Indian times, under the name of Ganeraske. The placid water, afire with rich sunset tints, and smooth as a mirror, was dotted with the skiffs of pleasure seekers, and the pretty little town looked most attractive, as, half in shadow, it nestled in its picturesque valley and straggled up the sides of its protecting hills. The long railway viaduct seemed to lend it an additional charm, and Flora McNab appealed to her brother whether it were not more like one of their old-country towns, than any they had yet seen. On the pier were a number of strollers, who had come out to catch the evening breeze, or to see the arrival of the daily boat; and, among them, Kate's quick eye easily recognized Nellie Armstrong and her brother, who gave them all a warm welcome, and speedily packed them into a dog-cart and a light-covered carriage, in which they were driven through the shady, sloping streets to the pretty bowery home of the Armstrongs, where another kind welcome awaited them from the host and hostess, and where an inviting supper was laid out in a cool, pleasant dining-room, opening on a velvety lawn overshadowed by a great "ba.s.s-wood" or linden tree. To May it all seemed like a delightful romance, nor did she mind a bit the soft rain, which, during the night, she heard through her dreams, pattering on the great leafy bough with that peculiarly tranquilizing effect which a soft summer rain has on the sleepy listener at night.

The morning was wet and misty, but their host declared the latter to be a good sign. And so it proved, for by the time the carriages, ordered for a long drive, were at the door, the mists were rolling gently up the sides of the hills, giving to the charming landscape just the touch of poetry that could best enhance its charm. It was a delightful drive, taking in most of the hills around the town, and the fine view from the one called "Fort Orton" was particularly enjoyed by the travelers.

"It's very like a pretty English or Scotch view," said Flora. "Not what one is apt to imagine _Canadian_ scenery."

"Well, you see, this is one of the oldest settled parts of Canada,"

said Mr. Armstrong. "The whole vicinity is a.s.sociated with the early French Missions to the Indians, and with some of the early French and Indian wars. There was an old Sulpician Mission at the Indian village on the very site of Port Hope--a mission whose director was the Abbe Fenelon, the first explorer of this lake sh.o.r.e, and no other than a brother of the celebrated Fenelon, who was the distinguished Archbishop of Cambray, and instructor of the Dauphin of France."

"And who wrote 'Telemaque?'" said Kate.

"Precisely. And while he was writing it for his royal pupil, his brother, devoted to the spiritual good of the poor ignorant Indians, was trying to teach the Catechism and the Lord's Prayer to the little Indian children, and enduring among the fierce Senecas, hardships far greater than those through which his brother was leading Telemaque. He was a real hero, that Abbe Fenelon."

"I must read up those old French Missions," said Hugh. "They seem to be wonderfully rich in heroic deeds."

"They are, indeed," said Mr. Armstrong, "but I wish you had time to go back to the neighborhood of Rice Lake and Peterboro', with its lovely little lakes. By the way, there is a pretty waterfall thereabout, named after this Abbe Fenelon, and the whole country is full of a.s.sociations, not only with those old French explorers and missionaries, but also with the almost equally gallant fight of the old U. E. Loyalist settlers, with hardships and privation."

"And what _is_ a 'U. E. Loyalist?'" asked Hugh. "I've seen the expression before, but have no idea what it means."

"We should not expect you to understand our Canadian terms, without explanation," said Mr. Armstrong, laughingly. "Well, a U. E. Loyalist means one of those first settlers of Canada who were driven to take refuge here at the time of the American revolution, because they would not give up their allegiance to the British Empire, and so they left their farms and possessions behind, and came to settle in the wilderness under the 'old flag.'"

"Oh, I see," said Hugh. "I have heard that many did so, but did not know that they were called by that particular name."

"Well, they gave good proof of their loyalty," said Mrs. Sandford; "for many of them had pretty hard times. Mrs. Moodie's experiences which she records in her book, 'Roughing it in the Bush,' were endured in this section of the country. I must try to get the book for you to read. You know she was a sister of Miss Agnes Strickland, and she and her sister, Mrs. Traill, may be called our pioneer auth.o.r.esses, though we can hardly call them Canadians."

"Yes, and this is a neighborhood full of Indian legend, too," said Mr.

Armstrong; "we have a village called _Hiawatha_, not many miles from here, and a 'Minnehaha,' 'laughing water,' in the same neighborhood; and not far from either dwelt the magician Megissogwon, who, 'guarded by the black pitch-water, sends fever from the marshes,' as, indeed, many a pale-face victim of fever and ague has known to his cost. And old Indian battlefields have been discovered hereabout, besides the connection of this point with warlike expeditions between white men in later times."

"And so we can never get away from 'old unhappy things and battles long ago,'" said Hugh, moralizingly.

"Well, let us give them the go-by, just now," said Kate and Flora together. "On such a lovely evening, we don't want to think of battles and unhappy things,--old or new."

"Only, somehow, they seem to add the touch of human interest, even if it be a sad one," rejoined Hugh, who was so much interested in all he could learn of the past history of the country that Kate laughingly chaffed him about the book or magazine article he must be going to write when he got home. However, the chaffing had no effect on his thirst for knowledge, and when they returned in the lovely summer twilight,--more than ready for the substantial repast which awaited them, notwithstanding the luncheon they had enjoyed on the way,--Hugh eagerly set to work thereafter, to devour, in addition, all the sc.r.a.ps of information which Mr. Armstrong hunted up for him among the historical works in his library. But his attention was somewhat distracted by the songs which Nellie and Flora and May were singing, sometimes in concert, sometimes separately, at the piano in the adjoining drawing-room. Flora delighted them all with the sweetness and pathos with which she sang some of the "Songs from the North,"

which the others had not previously heard. They gave her an enthusiastic _encore_ for the spirited song "Over the Hills to Skye,"

and at last, after hearing it two or three times, they all joined in the chorus.

"Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Onward! the sailors cry.

And carry the lad who was born to be King, Over the hills to Skye."

And they were almost as much fascinated by the chorus of the other, "The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch-Lomond," and sang again and again the mournful refrain:--

"Oh, ye'll tak' the high road, an' I'll tak' the low road, An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye; But I'll never, never see my true love again On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch-Lomond!"

"You see, you can't get away from the 'old unhappy things,'" said Hugh, at last leaving his books and coming to join the group at the piano. "It's always the same two minor chords we have in every pathetic song or story--love and war--in some form!"

"Yes," said Mr. Armstrong, "see how the American war struck into life the latent possibilities of pathos and poetry in the practical American people."

"Oh, by the way, Kate," said Nellie, "don't you remember that Mr.

Winthrop we met at Old Orchard last summer, with whom you used to have so many arguments about the North and South, and all the rest of it? I think he made a convert of you."

"Nonsense!" said Kate; "but what of him?"

"Oh, he called here two or three weeks ago in the course of a tour he was making, and he asked most particularly for you. I really believe he was going to look you up; and you were away from home. What a pity!"

"Indeed, I think it very unlikely that he would do anything of the kind. It would be quite out of his way," said Kate, nonchalantly.

"Well, I do think he meant to do so," returned Nellie. "He made most particular inquiries about just how to get there."

"I shall certainly be very much surprised to hear that he took any such trouble. Was he as argumentative as ever?"

"No, for most of his time here was spent in making the inquiries I referred to!" retorted Nellie, rather mischievously. "I only wonder you have not stumbled across him in the course of your travels."

Hugh had looked up with a sudden air of interest. "I noticed the name of Winthrop in the register of the _Clifton_, only a few days before we arrived."

"Then we just missed him," said Kate, in an indifferent tone, though with a somewhat heightened color. "You would have enjoyed meeting him, Hugh. He would have given you the American side of everything at first hand. What I have given you is only a very faint echo."

"But haven't you any Canadian songs to give me?" asked Hugh, as the girls were about leaving the piano.

"There's the old 'Canadian Boat-song,'" said Nellie, doubtfully.

"No, no," said Kate, "that's all very well for singing on the river.

We'll have it _there_, by and by. Give Hugh something that has more of a native flavor about it. Sing him one or two of those French Canadian songs you used to be so fond of--'_La Claire_ _Fontaine_,' you know, or '_En Roulant Ma Boule_.'"

"But they are so silly," objected Nellie.

"Dear me! who expects songs to be sensible nowadays, especially songs of that sort? And Hugh can enjoy a little nonsense to a pretty air, as well as anybody, I'm quite sure. Remember how much Mr. Winthrop used to like them," said Mrs. Sandford.

"Well, I'll sing them," said Nellie; "only, as the air is so simple, you must all of you join in the chorus, after the first time. You can easily catch it up."

And she proceeded to sing, with much spirit and expression, two or three of the lively French-Canadian airs, which have come down from the old times of _voyageurs_ and trappers--and the whole party caught the fascination and were soon singing, all together, the rollicking chorus of:--

"_En roulant ma boule roulant,--en roulant ma boule._"

and the prettier, half-playful, half-serious love ditty, the refrain to "_La Claire Fontaine_":

"_Il y'a longtemps que je t'aime_, _Jamais je ne t'oublierai_,"

till every one was surprised to find that it was eleven o'clock, and time for the travelers to seek their rest in preparation for an early start.

It was with great regret that the good-byes were said next morning, and the little party separated at the Grand Trunk station. May thought she could see very well that Jack Armstrong had fallen a victim to the fresh, rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed Flora, and, accordingly, was not surprised when something was said about a possibility that he and Nellie might meet them at Quebec, by and by, and go with them down the Saguenay.

"At all events we will live in _Hope_," said Jack, who was too fond of puns. "You know this is a _hopeful_ atmosphere."

And so they were off from old _Ganeraske_, as this Port of Good Hope was first called, and on the road once more.

The next stage was not very long, however. At Cobourg they utilized the "twenty minutes for refreshments" by driving rapidly about the princ.i.p.al streets of this old town, commemorating in its name the marriage of the young Queen with the good Albert of Cobourg. They got a distant glimpse of the tower of the Victoria University, soon to be removed to Toronto, where its name will not have the historical significance which it had here. Mrs. Sandford informed Hugh how many factories the little town contained, cloth, cars, leather, and more besides. Then they had a run of some two hours through a fertile farming country, leaving the train at Belleville, where they were to spend the remainder of the day. Taking an early luncheon, they devoted the rest of the afternoon and evening to pleasant drives about the picturesque vicinity of the pretty little city, which, Mrs. Sandford said, was first named _Belleville_ in honor of Arabella, the wife of an early governor. That it deserved the added "e" no one doubted, for all admired its fine situation at the head of the n.o.ble Bay of Quinte, with two rapid rivers, the Trent and the Moira, running through the town. Everywhere that they drove in the neighborhood they came upon charming glimpses of bay and river, or rich fields of waving grain, thriving orchards and pleasant old homesteads surrounded by their farm-buildings, making many delightful rural pictures to carry away.

And again Mrs. Sandford reminded them how all that comfort and prosperity was the late fruit of the hard labors and patiently borne privations of the loyal old settlers, who chose to begin life over again in the wilderness, rather than sacrifice their political principles and disown the flag they loved so well.

"I'm afraid I'm not such a Tory as you are, Aunt Bella," said Hugh; "few of us juniors are in these latter days. But, all the same, it was a n.o.ble thing to do--to follow their principles to the bitter end, and go out, like Abraham, into the wilderness."