CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE NEW HOME.
Once again, and for the last time, we shift our scene to Canada--to thereal backwoods now--the Brandon Settlement.
Sir Richard, you see, had been a noted sportsman in his youth. He hadchased the kangaroo in Australia, the springbok in Africa, and the tigerin India, and had fished salmon in Norway, so that his objections to thecivilised parts of Canada were as strong as those of the Red Indiansthemselves. He therefore resolved, when making arrangements to found acolony, to push as far into the backwoods as was compatible with comfortand safety. Hence we now find him in the _very_ far West.
We decline to indicate the exact spot, because idlers, on hearing of itsfertility and beauty and the felicity of its inhabitants, might betempted to crowd to it in rather inconvenient numbers. Let it sufficeto say, in the language of the aborigines, that it lies towards thesetting sun.
Around Brandon Settlement there are rolling prairies, illimitablepasture-land, ocean-like lakes, grand forests, and numerous rivers andrivulets, with flat-lands, low-lands, high-lands, undulating lands,wood-lands, and, in the far-away distance, glimpses of the back-bone ofAmerica--peaked, and blue, and snow-topped.
The population of this happy region consists largely of waifs with aconsiderable sprinkling of strays. There are also several families of"haristocrats," who, however, are not "bloated"--very much the reverse.
The occupation of the people is, as might be expected, agricultural;but, as the colony is very active and thriving and growing fast, manyother branches of industry have sprung up, so that the hiss of the sawand the ring of the anvil, the clatter of the water-mill, and the clackof the loom, may be heard in all parts of it.
There is a rumour that a branch of the Great Pacific Railway is to berun within a mile of the Brandon Settlement; but that is not yetcertain. The rumour, however, has caused much joyful hope to some, andrather sorrowful anxiety to others. Mercantile men rejoice at theprospect. Those who are fond of sport tremble, for it is generallysupposed, though on insufficient grounds, that the railway-whistlefrightens away game. Any one who has travelled in the ScottishHighlands and seen grouse close to the line regarding your clankingtrain with supreme indifference, must doubt the evil influence ofrailways on game. Meanwhile, the sportsmen of Brandon Settlement pursuethe buffalo and stalk the deer, and hunt the brown and the grizzly bear,and ply rod, net, gun, and rifle, to their hearts' content.
There is even a bank in this thriving settlement--a branch, if wemistake not, of the flourishing Bank of Montreal--of which a certain MrWelland is manager, and a certain Thomas Balls is hall-porter, as wellas general superintendent, when not asleep in the hall-chair. MrsWelland, known familiarly as Di, is regarded as the mother of thesettlement--or, more correctly, the guardian angel--for she is not yetmuch past the prime of life. She is looked upon as a sort of goddess bymany people; indeed she resembles one in mind, face, figure, andcapacity. We use the last word advisedly, for she knows and sympathiseswith every one, and does so much for the good of the community, that thebare record of her deeds would fill a large volume. Amongst otherthings she trains, in the way that they should go, a family of tenchildren, whose adoration of her is said to be perilously near toidolatry. She also finds time to visit an immense circle of friends.There are no poor in Brandon Settlement yet, though there are a few sickand a good many aged, to whom she ministers. She also attends on SirRichard, who is part of the Bank family, as well as a director.
The good knight wears well. His time is divided between the children ofDi, the affairs of the settlement, and a neighbouring stream in whichthe trout are large and pleasantly active. Mrs Screwbury, who spenther mature years in nursing little Di, is renewing her youth by nursinglittle Di's little ones, among whom there is, of course, another littleDi whom her father styles Di-licious. Jessie Summers assists in thenursery, and the old cook reigns in the Canadian kitchen with as muchgrace as she formerly reigned in the kitchen at the "West-End."
Quite close to the Bank buildings there is a charming villa, with a viewof a lake in front and a peep through the woods at the mountains behind,in which dwells the cashier of the Bank with his wife and family. Hisname is Robert Frog, Esquire. His wife's name is Martha. His eldestson, Bobby--a boy of about nine or ten--is said to be the most larky boyin the settlement. We know not as to that, but any one with half an eyecan see that he is singularly devoted to his mild little brown-eyedmother.
There is a picturesque little hut at the foot of the garden of BeehiveVilla, which is inhabited by an old woman. To this hut Bobby the secondis very partial, for the old woman _is_ exceedingly fond of Bobby--quitespoils him in fact--and often entertains him with strange stories abouta certain lion of her acquaintance which was turned into a lamb. Needwe say that this old woman is Mrs Frog? The Bank Cashier offered her ahome in Beehive Villa, but she prefers the little hut at the foot of thegarden, where she sits in state to receive visitors and is tenderlycared for by a very handsome young woman named Matty, who calls her"mother". Matty is the superintendent of a neighbouring school, and itis said that one of the best of the masters of that school is anxious tomake Matty and the school his own. If so, that master must be a greedyfellow--all things considered.
There is a civil engineer--often styled by Bob Frog an uncivilengineer--who has planned all the public works of the settlement, and issaid to have a good prospect of being engaged in an important capacityon the projected railway. But of this we cannot speak authoritatively.His name is T Lampay, Esquire. Ill-natured people assert that when hefirst came to the colony his name was Tim Lumpy, and at times his wifeHetty calls him Lumpy to his face, but, as wives do sometimes call theirhusbands improper names, the fact proves nothing except the perversityof woman. There is a blind old woman in his establishment, however, whohas grown amiably childish in her old age, who invariably calls him Tim.Whatever may be the truth as to this, there is no question that he is athriving man and an office-bearer in the Congregational church, whosebest Sabbath-school teacher is his wife Hetty, and whose pastor is theReverend John Seaward--a man of singular good fortune, for, besideshaving such men as Robert Frog, T. Lampay, and Sir Richard Brandon toback him up and sympathise with him on all occasions, he is furthersupported by the aid and countenance of Samuel Twitter, senior, SamuelTwitter, junior, Mrs Twitter, and all the other Twitters, some of whomare married and have twitterers of their own.
Samuel Twitter and his sons are now farmers! Yes, reader, you may lookand feel surprised to hear it, but your astonishment will never equalthat of old Twitter himself at finding himself in that position. Henever gets over it, and has been known, while at the tail of the plough,to stop work, clap a hand on each knee, and roar with laughter at themere idea of his having taken to agriculture late in life! He tried tomilk the cows when he first began, but, after having frightened two orthree animals into fits, overturned half a dozen milk-pails, and beenpartially gored, he gave it up. Sammy is his right-hand man, and thehope of his declining years. True, this right-hand has got the name ofbeing slow, but he is considered as pre-eminently sure.
Mrs Twitter has taken earnestly to the sick, since there are no poor tobefriend. She is also devoted to the young--and there is no lack ofthem. She is likewise strong in the tea-party line, and among her mostfavoured guests are two ladies named respectively Loper and Larrabel,and two gentlemen named Crackaby and Stickler. It is not absolutelycertain whether these four are a blessing to the new settlement or thereverse. Some hold that things in general would progress more smoothlyif they were gone; others that their presence affords excellent andneedful opportunity for the exercise of forbearance and charity. At allevents Mrs Twitter holds that she could not live without them, andGeorge Brisbane, Esquire, who owns a lovely mansion on the outskirts ofthe settlement, which he has named Lively Hall, vows that the departureof that quartette would be a distinct and irreparable loss to society inBrandon Settlement.
One more old friend we have to ment
ion, namely, Reggie North, who hasbecome a colporteur, and wanders far and near over the beautiful face ofCanada, scattering the seed of Life with more vigour and greater successthan her sons scatter the golden grain. His periodical visits to thesettlement are always hailed with delight, because North has a genialway of relating his adventures and describing his travels, which rendersit necessary for him to hold forth as a public lecturer at times in thelittle chapel, for the benefit of the entire community. On theseoccasions North never fails, you may be quite sure, to advance hisMaster's cause.
Besides those whom we have mentioned, there are sundry persons of bothsexes who go by such names as Dick Swiller, Blobby, Robin, Lilly Snow,Robbie Dell, and Little Mouse, all of whom are grown men and women, andare said to have originally been London waifs and strays. But any onelooking at them in their backwoods prosperity would pooh-pooh the ideaas being utterly preposterous!
However this may be, it is quite certain that they are curiously wellacquainted with the slums of London and with low life in that greatcity. These people sometimes mention the name of Giles Scott, andalways with regret that that stalwart policeman and his not lessstalwart sons are unable to see their way to emigrate, but if they did,as Bobby Frog the second asks, "what would become of London?"
"They'd make such splendid backwoodsmen," says one.
"And the daughters would make such splendid wives for backwoodsmen,"says another.
Mr Merryboy thinks that Canada can produce splendid men of its ownwithout importing them from England, and Mrs Merryboy holds that thesame may be said in regard to the women of Canada, and old granny, whois still alive, with a face like a shrivelled-up potato, blinks withundimmed eyes, and nods her snow-white head, and beams her brightestsmile in thorough approval of these sentiments.
Ah, reader! Brandon Settlement is a wonderful place, but we may notlinger over it now. The shadows of our tale have lengthened out, andthe sun is about to set. Before it goes quite down let us remind youthat the Diamonds which you have seen dug out, cut, and polished, areonly a few of the precious gems that lie hidden in the dust of the greatcities of our land; that the harvest might be very great, and that thelabourers at the present time are comparatively few.
THE END.
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