Life in the Clearings versus the Bush Part 8

The Poet.

"Who can read the Poet's dream, Shadow forth his glorious theme, And in written language tell The workings of the potent spell, Whose mysterious tones impart Life and vigour to his heart?

'Tis an emanation bright, Shooting from the fount of light; Flowing in upon the mind, Like sudden dayspring on the blind; Gilding with immortal dyes Scenes unknown to common eyes; Revealing to the mental sight Visions of untold delight.

'Tis the key by Fancy brought, That opens up the world of thought; A sense of power, a pleasing madness, A hope in grief, a joy in sadness, A taste for beauty unalloyed, A love of nature never cloyed; The upward soaring of a soul Unfetter'd by the world's control, Onward, heavenward ever tending, Its essence with the Eternal blending; Till, from 'mortal coil' shook free, It shares the seraph's ecstacy."

CHAPTER IV

Amus.e.m.e.nts

"Life hath its pleasures, stern Death hath its fears, Joy hath gay laughter, and Grief bitter tears; Rejoice with the one, nor shrink from the other,-- Yon cloud hides the sun, and death is life's brother!

As the beam to the day, so the shade to the night-- Be certain that Heaven orders all for the right."

S.M.

My dear reader, before we proceed further on our journey, it may be as well to give you some idea of how the Canadian people in towns spend their time. I will endeavour to describe to you the various sources from whence they derive pleasure and amus.e.m.e.nt.

In large cities, like Montreal and Toronto, the higher cla.s.ses are as refined and intellectual as ladies and gentlemen at home, and spend their lives much in the same manner. Their houses abound in all the elegancies and luxuries of life, and to step into their drawing-rooms you would imagine yourself still in England. They drive handsome carriages, and ride fine spirited horses; and if they are enc.u.mbered with fewer domestic pests in the shape of pampered servants, they have, in this respect, a decided advantage over their European friends. They dress well and expensively, and are very particular to have their clothes cut in the newest fashion. Men and women adopt the reigning mode so universally, that they look all dressed alike. The moment a fashion becomes at all obsolete, the articles of dress made to suit it are discarded. In England, a lady may please herself in the choice of colours, and in adopting as much of a fashion as suits her style of person and taste, but in Canada they carry this imitation of the fashions of the day to extremes. If green was the prevailing colour, every lady would adopt it, whether it suited her complexion or no; and, if she was ever so stout, that circ.u.mstance would not prevent her from wearing half-a-dozen more skirts than was necessary, because that absurd and unhealthy practice has for a long period prevailed. Music is taught very generally. Though very few attain any great perfection in the science, a great many perform well enough to gratify their friends, and contribute to the enjoyment of a social evening. You will find a piano in every weathy Canadian's house, and even in the dwellings of most of the respectable mechanics.

I never met with a Canadian girl who could not dance, and dance well.

It seems born in them, and it is their favourite amus.e.m.e.nt. Polkas, waltzes, and quadrilles, are the dances most approved in their private and public a.s.semblies. The eight Scotch reel has, however, its admirers, and most parties end with this lively romping dance.

b.a.l.l.s given on public days, such as the Queen's birthday, and by societies, such as the Freemasons', the Odd Fellows', and the Firemen's, are composed of very mixed company, and the highest and lowest are seen in the same room. They generally contrive to keep to their own set--dancing alternately--rarely occupying the floor together. It is surprising the goodwill and harmony that presides in these mixed a.s.semblies. As long as they are treated with civility, the lower cla.s.ses shew no lack of courtesy to the higher. To be a spectator at one of these public b.a.l.l.s is very amusing. The country girls carry themselves with such an easy freedom, that it is quite entertaining to look at and listen to them. At a freemasons' ball, some years ago, a very amusing thing took place. A young handsome woman, still in her girlhood, had brought her baby, which she carried with her into the ball-room. On being asked to dance, she was rather puzzled what to do with the child; but, seeing a young lawyer, one of the _elite_ of the town, standing with folded arms looking on, she ran across the room, and, putting the baby into his arms, exclaimed--"You are not dancing, sir; pray hold my baby for me, till the next quadrille is over." Away she skipped back to her partner, and left the gentleman overwhelmed with confusion, while the room shook with peals of laughter. Making the best of it, he danced the baby to the music, and kept it in high good humour till its mother returned.

"I guess," she said, "that you are a married man?"

"Yes," said he, returning the child, "and a mason."

"Well, I thought as much any how, by the way you acted with the baby."

"My conduct was not quite free from selfishness--I expect a reward."

"As how?"

"That you will give the baby to your husband, and dance the next set with me."

"With all my heart. Let us go a-head."

If legs did not do their duty, it was no fault of their pretty owner, for she danced with all her strength, greatly to the amus.e.m.e.nt of her aristocratic partner.

When we first came to Belleville, evening parties commenced at the primitive and _rational_ hour of six o'clock, but now invitations are issued for eight; the company, however, seldom a.s.semble before nine, and those who wish to be very fashionable don't make their appearance before ten. This is rather absurd in a country, but Folly, as well as Wisdom, is justified of her children. Evening parties always include dancing and music, while cards are provided for those gentlemen who prefer whist to the society of the ladies. The evening generally closes with a splendid supper, in which there is no lack of the good things which the season affords. The ladies are always served first, the gentlemen waiting upon them at supper; and they never sit down to the table, when the company is large, until after the ladies have returned to the drawing-room. This custom would not be very agreeable to some English epicures, but it is an universal one with Canadian gentlemen, whose politeness and attention to the other s.e.x is one of the most pleasing traits in their character.

The opportunities of visiting the theatre occur very seldom, and only can be enjoyed by those who reside in the _cities_ of Canada. The young men of the place sometimes get up an amateur performance, in which they act the part of both ladies and gentlemen, greatly to the delight and amus.e.m.e.nt of their audience. I must say that I have enjoyed a play in one of these private houses more than ever I did at Drury Lane or Covent Garden. The lads act with their whole hearts, and I have seen them shed real tears over the sorrows they were called upon to pourtray.

They did not feign--they really felt the part. Of course, there was little artistic skill, but a good deal of truth and nature.

In the summer, riding and boating parties take the place of dancing.

These are always regular picnics, each party contributing their share of eatables and drinkables to the general stock. They commonly select some pretty island in the bay, or shady retired spot on the main land, for the general rendezvous, where they light a fire, boil their kettles, and cook the vegetables to eat with their cold prog, which usually consists of hams, fowls, meat pies, cold joints of meat, and abundance of tarts and cakes, while the luxury of ice is conveyed in a blanket at the bottom of one of the boats.

These water parties are very delightful. The ladies stroll about and gather wild fruit and flowers, while the gentlemen fish. The weather at that season of the year is sure to be fine, and the water scenery beautiful in the extreme. Those who possess good voices sing, and the young folks dance on the greensward. A day spent thus happily with nature in her green domain, is one of pure and innocent enjoyment. There is always a reunion, in the evening, of the party, at the house of one of the married ladies who were present at the picnic.

In a riding party, some place is selected in the country, and those who are invited meet at a fixed hour on the appointed ground. The Oakhill pond, near the village of Rawdon, and about sixteen miles from Belleville, is a very favourite spot, and is one of singular beauty.

This Oakhill pond is a small, clear, and very deep lake, on the summit of a high hill. It is about two miles in circ.u.mference, and being almost circular, must nearly be as broad as it is long. The waters are intensely blue, the back-ground is filled up with groves of dark pine, while the woods in front are composed of the dwarf oaks and firs, which are generally found on these table lands, interspersed with low bushes--the sandy soil abounding with every Canadian variety of wild fruits and flowers.

There is an excellent plank road all the way from Belleville to Rawdon.

The Oakhills lie a little to the left, and you approach them by a very steep ascent, from the summit of which you obtain as fine a prospect as I have seen in this part of Canada. A vast country lies stretched beneath your feet, and you look down upon an immense forest, whose tree-tops, moved by the wind, cause it to undulate like a green ocean.

From this spot you may trace the four windings of the bay, to its junction with the blue waters of the Ontario. The last time I gazed from the top of this hill a thunder-storm was frowning over the woods, and the dense black clouds gave an awful grandeur to the n.o.ble picture.

The village of Rawdon lies on the other side of this table land, quite in a valley. A bright, brisk little stream runs through it, and turns several large mills. It is a very pretty rural place, and is fast rising towards the dignity of a town. When we first came to Belleville, the spot on which Rawdon now stands belonged princ.i.p.ally, if not altogether, to an enterprising Orkney man, Edward Fidlar, Esq., to whose energy and industry it mainly owes its existence. Mr. Fidlar might truly be termed the father of the village. A witty friend suggested, that instead of Rawdon, it ought more properly to be called "Fidlar's Green."

There is a clean country inn just at the foot of the long hill leading to the Oakhill pond, kept by a respectable widow-woman of the name of Fairman. If the pic-nic party does not wish to be troubled with carrying baskets of provisions so far, they send word to Mrs. Fairman the day previous, to prepare dinner for so many guests. This she always does in the best possible country style, at the moderate charge of half-a-dollar per head.

A dinner in the country in Canada, taken at the house of some substantial yeoman, is a very different affair from a dinner in the town. The table literally groans with good cheer; and you cannot offer a greater affront to your hostess, than to eat sparingly of the dainties set before you.

They like to have several days' warning of your intended visit, that they may go "to trouble," as they most truly term making such magnificent preparations for a few guests. I have sat down to a table of this kind in the country, with only Mr. M. and myself as guests, and we have been served with a dinner that would have amply fed twenty people.

Fowls of several sorts, ham, and joints of roast and boiled meat, besides quant.i.ties of pies, puddings, custards, and cakes. Cheese is invariably offered to you with apple pie; and several little, gla.s.s dishes are ranged round your plate, for preserves, honey, and apple sauce, which latter dainty is never wanting at a country feast. The mistress of the house constantly presses you to partake of all these things, and sometimes the acc.u.mulation of rich food on one plate, which it is impossible for you to consume, is everything but agreeable.

Two ladies, friends of mine, went to spend the day at one of these too hospitable entertainers. The weather was intensely hot. They had driven a long way in the sun, and both ladies had a headache, and very little appet.i.te in consequence. The mistress of the house went "to trouble,"

and prepared a great feast for her guests; but, finding that they partook very sparingly of her good cheer, her pride was greatly hurt, and rising suddenly from her seat, and turning to them with a stern brow, she exclaimed,--

"I should like to know what ails my victuals, that you don't choose to eat."

The poor ladies explained the reason of their appet.i.tes having failed them; but they found it a difficult matter to soothe their irritated hostess, who declared that she would never go "to trouble" for them again. It is of no use arguing against this amiable weakness, for as eating to uneducated people is one of the greatest enjoyments of life, they cannot imagine how they could make you more comfortable, by offering you less food, and of a more simple kind.

Large farmers in an old cleared country live remarkably well, and enjoy within themselves all the substantial comforts of life. Many of them keep carriages, and drive splendid horses. The contrast between the pork and potato diet, (and sometimes of potatoes alone without the pork), in the backwoods, is really striking. Before a gentleman from the old country concludes to settle in the bush, let him first visit these comfortable abodes of peace and plenty.

The Hon. R. B---, when canva.s.sing the county, paid a round of visits to his princ.i.p.al political supporters, and they literally almost killed him with kindness. Every house provided a feast in honour of their distinguished guest, and he was obliged to eat at all.

Coming to spend a quiet evening at our house, the first words he uttered were--"If you have any regard for me, Mrs. M---, pray don't ask me to eat. I am sick of the sight of food."

I can well imagine the amount of "trouble" each good wife had taken upon herself on this great occasion.

One of the most popular public exhibitions is the circus, a sort of travelling Astley's theatre, which belongs to a company in New York.

This show visits all the large towns, once during the summer season. The performances consists of feats of horsemanship, gymnastics, dancing on the tight and slack rope, and wonderful feats of agility and strength; and to those who have taste and nerve enough to admire such sights, it possesses great attractions. The company is a large one, often exceeding forty persons; it is provided with good performers, and an excellent bra.s.s band. The arrival of the circus is commonly announced several weeks before it makes its actual entree, in the public papers; and large handbills are posted up in the taverns, containing coa.r.s.e woodcuts of the most exciting scenes in the performance. These ugly pictures draw round them crowds of little boys, who know the whole of the programme by heart, long before the caravans containing the tents and scenery arrive. Hundreds of these little chaps are up before day-break on the expected morning of the show, and walk out to Shannonville, a distance of nine miles, to meet it.

However the farmers may grumble over bad times and low prices, the circus never lacks its quantum of visitors; and there are plenty of half-dollars to be had to pay for tickets for themselves and their families.

The Indians are particularly fond of this exhibition, and the town is always full of them the day the circus comes in.

A large tent is pitched on the open s.p.a.ce between the Scotch church and the old hospital, big enough to contain at least a thousand people, besides a wide area for the performance and the pit. An amphitheatre of seats rise tier above tier, to within a few feet of the eaves of the tent, for the accommodation of the spectators; and the whole s.p.a.ce is lighted by a large chandelier, composed of tin holders, filled with very bad, greasy, tallow candles, that in the close crowded place emit a very disagreeable odour.

The show of horses and feats of horsemanship are always well worth seeing, but the rest grows very tiresome on frequent repet.i.tion. Persons must be very fond of this sort of thing who can twice visit the circus, as year after year the clown repeats the same stale jests, and shows up the same style of performers.

The last time I went, in order to please my youngest son, I was more amused by the antics of a man who carried about bull's-eyes and lemonade, than by any of the actors. Whenever he offered his tray of sweets to the ladies, it was with such an affectedly graceful bend; and throwing into his voice the utmost persuasion, he contrived to glance down on the bulls'-eyes with half an eye, and to gaze up at the ladies he addressed with all that remained of the powers of vision, exclaiming, with his hand on his heart,--"How sweet they a-r-e!" combining a recommendation of his bulls'-eyes with a compliment to the fair s.e.x.

The show opens at two o'clock, P.M., and again at half-past seven in the evening. The people from a distance, and the young children, visit the exciting scene during the day; the town's-people at night, as it is less crowded, cooler, and the company more select. Persons of all ranks are there; and the variety of faces and characters that nature exhibits gratis, are far more amusing to watch than the feats of the Athletes.

Then there is Barnham's travelling menagerie of wild animals, and of tame darkie melodists, who occupy a tent by themselves, and a _white n.i.g.g.e.r_ whom the boys look upon with the same wonder they would do at a white rat or mouse. Everybody goes to see the wild beasts, and to poke fun at the elephants. One man who, born and brought up in the Backwoods, had never seen an elephant before, nor even a picture of one, ran half frightened home to his master, exclaiming as he bolted into the room, "Oh, sir! sir! you must let the childer go to the munjery. Shure there's six huge critters to be seen, with no eyes, and a tail before and behind."