"The chorister's song, that late was so strong,Grew a quaver of consternation."
"The chorister's song, that late was so strong,
Grew a quaver of consternation."
The door burst open, and a ghastly head was protruded through the aperture. "A ghost!--a ghost!" shrieked out all the children in a breath; and jumping over the forms, they huddled around the stove, upsetting the solitary tallow candle, the desk, and the bass viol, in their flight. One lad sprang right upon the unfortunate instrument, which broke to pieces with a terrible crash. We were now left in the dark. The girls screamed, and clung round me for protection, while the ghastly apparition continued to stare upon us through the gloom, with its large, hollow eyes, I must confess that I felt rather queer; but I wisely kept my fears to myself, while I got as far from the door as I possibly could. Just as our terror had reached a climax, the grizzly phantom uttered a low, whining neigh.
"It's the old mare! I'll be darned if it isn't!" cried one of the older boys, at the top of his voice. This restored confidence to the rest; and one rather bolder than his comrades at length ventured to relight the fallen candle at the stove, and holding it up, displayed to our view the old white mare, standing in the doorway. The poor beast had forced her way into the porch to protect herself from the cold; and she looked at her master, as much as to say, "I have a standing account against you." No doubt her sudden intrusion had been the means of shortening her term of probation by at least half an hour, and of bringing the singing-school to a close. She had been the innocent cause of disabling both the musical instruments, and Mr. Browne could not raise a correct note without them. Turning to his pupils, with a very rueful countenance, and speaking in a very unmusical voice, but very expressive withal, he said--"Chore (meaning choir), you are dimissed. But, hold on!--don't be in such a darnation hurry to be off. I was a-going to tell you, this ere gentleman, Mr. H--- (my name, for a wonder, poppping into his head at that minute) is to give acon-sortto-morrow night. It was to have been to-night; but he changed his mind that he might have the pleasure of hearing you. I shall assist Mr. H--- in the singing department; so you must all be sure to cum. Tickets for boys over ten years, twenty-five cents; under ten, twelve and a half cents. So youleetlechaps will know what to do. The next time the school meets will be when the fiddles are fixed. Now scamper." The children were not long in obeying the order. In the twinkling of an eye they were off, and we heard them shouting and sky-larking in the lane.
"Cum, Mr. H---," said the music-master, buttoning his great-coat up to his chin, "let us be a-goin'."
On reaching the spot where we had left the cutter, to our great disappointment, we found only one-half of it remaining; the other half, broken to pieces, strewed the ground. Mr. Browne detained me for another half-hour, in gathering together the fragments. "Now you, Mr. Smith, you take care of the crippled fiddles, while I take care of the bag of oats. The old mare has been trying to hook them out of the cutter, which has been the cause of all the trouble. You, Mr. H---, mount up on the old jade, and take along the bull's hide, and we will follow on foot."
"Yes," said I, "and glad of the chance, for I am cold and tired."
Not knowing a step of the way, I let Mr. Browne and his companion go a-head; and making a sort of pack-saddle of the old hide, I curled myself up on the back of the old mare, and left her to her own pace, which, however, was a pretty round trot, until we reached the outskirts of the town, where, dismounting, I thanked my companions, very insincerely I'm afraid, for my evening's amusement, and joined my friends at the hotel, who were never tired of hearing me recount my adventures at the singing-school.
I had been obliged to postpone my own concert until the next evening, for I found the borrowed piano such a poor one, and so miserably out of tune, that it took me several hours rendering it at all fit for service. Before I had concluded my task, I was favoured with the company of Mr. Browne, who stuck to me closer than a brother, never allowing me out of his sight for a moment. This persevering attention, so little in unison with my feelings, caused me the most insufferable annoyance. A thousand times I was on the point of dismissing him very unceremoniously, by informing him that I thought him a most conceited, impertinent puppy; but for the sake of my friend Roberts, who was in some way related to the fellow, I contrived to master my anger. About four o'clock he jumped up from the table, at which he had been lounging and sipping hot punch at my expense for the last hour, exclaiming--
"I guess it's time for me to see the pee-a-ne carried up to the con-sort room."
"It's all ready," said I. "Perhaps, Mr. Browne, you will oblige me by singing a song before the company arrives, that I may judge how far your style and mine will agree;" for I began to have some horrible misgivings on the subject. "If you will step upstairs, I will accompany you on the piano. I had no opportunity of hearing you sing last night."
"No, no," said he, with a conceited laugh; "I mean to astonish you by and by. I'm not one of your common amateurs, no how. I shall produce quite a sensation upon your audience."
So saying, he darted through the door, and left me to finish my arrangements for the night.
The hour appointed for the concert at length arrived. It was a clear, frosty night, the moon shining as bright as day. A great number of persons were collected about the doors of the hotel, and I had every reason to expect a full house. I was giving some directions to my door-keeper, when I heard a double sleigh approaching at an uncommon rate; and looking up the road, I saw an old-fashioned, high-backed vehicle, drawn by two shabby-looking horses, coming towards the hotel at full gallop. The passengers evidently thought that they were too late, and were making up for lost time.
The driver was an old farmer, and dressed in the cloth of the country, with a large capote of the same material drawn over his head and weather-beaten face, which left his sharp black eyes, red nose, and wide mouth alone visible. He flourished in his hand a large whip of raw hide, which ever and anon descended upon the backs of his rawboned cattle like the strokes of a flail.
"Get up--go along--waye," cried he, suddenly drawing up at the door of the hotel. "Well, here we be at last, and jist in time for the con-sort." Then hitching the horses to the post, and flinging the buffalo robes over them, he left the three females he was driving in the sleigh, and ran directly up to me,--"Arn't you the con-sort man? I guess you be, by them ere black pants and Sunday-goin' gear."
I nodded assent.
"What's the damage?"
"Half a dollar."
"Half a dollar? You don't mean to say that!"
"Not a cent less."
"Well, it will beexpensive. There's my wife and two darters, and myself; and the galls never seed a con-sort."
"Well," said I, "as there are four of you, you may come in at a dollar and a half."
"How; a dollar and a harf! I will go and have a talk with the old woman, and hear what she says to it."
He returned to the sleigh, and after chatting for a few minutes with the women, he helped them out, and the four followed me into the common reception room of the inn. The farmer placed a pail of butter on the table, and said with a shrewd curl of his long nose, and a wink from one of his cunning black eyes, "There's some pretty good butter, mister."
I was amused at the idea, and replied, "Pretty good butter! What is that to me? I do not buy butter."
"Not buy butter! Why you don't say! It is the very best article in the market jist now."
For a bit of fun I said,--"Never mind; I will take your butter. What is it worth?"
"It was worth ten cents last week, mister; I don't know what it's worth now. It can't have fallen, no-how."
I took my knife from my pocket, and in a very business-like manner proceeded to taste the article. "Why," said I, "this butter is not good."
Here a sharp-faced woman stepped briskly up, and poking her head between us, said, at the highest pitch of her cracked voice,--"Yes, it is good; it was made this morningexpress-lyfor thecon-sort."
"I beg your pardon, madam. I am not in the habit of buying butter. To oblige you, I will take this. How much is there of it?"
"I don't know. Where are your steelyards?"
"Oh," said I, laughing, "I don't carry such things with me. I will take it at your own valuation, and you may go in with your family."
"'Tis a bargain," says she. "Go in, galls, and fix yourselves for thecon-sort."
As the room was fast filling, I thought it time to present myself to the company, and made my entrance, accompanied by that incorrigible pest, the singing master, who, without the least embarrassment, took his seat by the piano. After singing several of my best songs, I invited him to try his skill.
"Oh, certainly," said he; "to tell you the truth, I am aleetlesu rprised that you did not ask me to lead off."
"I would have done so; but I could not alter the arrangement of the programme."
"Ah, well, I excuse you this time, but it was not very polite, to say the least of it." Then, taking my seat at the piano with as much confidence as Braham ever had, he run his hand over the keys, exclaiming "What shall I sing? I will give you one of Russell's songs; they suit my voice best. Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to favour you by singing Henry Russell's celebrated song, 'I love to roam,' and accompany myself upon thepee-a-ne-forty."
This song is so well known to most of my readers, that I can describe his manner of singing it without repeating the whole of the words. He struck the instrument in playing with such violence that it shook his whole body, and produced the following ludicrous effect:
"Some love to ro-o-o-a-meO'er the dark sea fo-o-ome,Where the shrill winds whistle fre-e-e;But a cho-o-sen ba-a-and in a mountain la-a-a-and,And life in the woo-o-ds for me-e-e."
"Some love to ro-o-o-a-me
O'er the dark sea fo-o-ome,
Where the shrill winds whistle fre-e-e;
But a cho-o-sen ba-a-and in a mountain la-a-a-and,
And life in the woo-o-ds for me-e-e."
This performance was drowned in an uproar of laughter, which brought our vocalist to a sudden stop.
"I won't sing another line if you keep up that infernal noise," he roared at the top of his voice. "When a fellow does his best, he expects his audience to appreciate his performance; but I allers he'rd as how the folks at W--- knew nothing about music."
"Oh, do stop," exclaimed an old woman, rising from her seat, and shaking her fist at the unruly company,--"can't yee's; he do singbutiful; and his voice in the winds do sound sonatural, I could almost hear them an 'owling. It minds me of old times, it dew."
This voluntary tribute to his genius seemed to console and reassure the singing master, and, stemming with his stentorian voice the torrent of mistimed mirth, he sang his song triumphantly to the end; and the clapping of hands, stamping of feet, and knocking of benches, were truly deafening.
"What will you have now?" cried he. "I thought you would comprehend good singing at last."
"Give them a comic song," said I, in a whisper.
"A comic song!(aloud) Do you think that I would waste my talents in singing trash that any jackass could bray? No, sirra, my style is purelysentimental. I will give the ladies and gentlemen the 'Ivy Green.'"
He sang this beautiful original song, which is decidedly Russell's best, much in the same style as the former one, but, getting a little used to his eccentricities, we contrived to keep our gravity until he came to the chorus, "Creeping, creeping, creeping," for which he substituted, "crawling, crawling, crawling," when he was again interrupted by such a burst of merriment that he was unable to crawl any further.
"Well," said he, rising; "if you won't behave, I will leave the instrument to Mr. H---, and make one of the audience."
He had scarcely taken his seat, when the farmer from whom I had bought the butter forced his way up to the piano. Says he, "There's that pail; it is worth ten cents and a half. You must either pay the money, or give me back the pail.--(Hitching up his nether garments)--I s'pose you'll do the thing that's right."
"Oh, certainly, there are twelve and a half cents."
"I hav'nt change," said he, with a knowing look.
"So much the better; keep the difference."
"Then we're square, mister," and he sank back into his place.
"Did he pay you the money?" I heard the wife ask in an anxious tone.
"Yes, yes; more than the old pail was worth by a long chalk. I'd like to deal with that chap allers."
I now proceeded with the concert. The song of the drowning child saved by the Newfoundland dog drew down thunders of applause. When the clamour had a little subsided, a tall man rose from his seat at the upper end of the room, and, after clearing his throat with several loud hems, he thus addressed me,--"How do you do, Mr. H---? I am glad, sir, to make your acquaintance. This is my friend, Mr. Derby," drawing another tall man conspicuously forward before all the spectators. "He, tew, is very happy to make your acquaintance. We both want to know if that dog you have been singing about belongs to you. If so, we should be glad to buy a pup." He gravely took his seat, amid perfect yells of applause. It was impossible to be heard in such a riot, and I closed the adventures of the evening by giving out "'Hail, Columbia,' to be sung by all present." Thisfinalegave universal satisfaction, and the voice of my friend the singing master might be heard far above the rest.
I was forced, in common politeness, to invite Mr. Browne to partake of the oyster supper I had provided for my friends from W---. "Will you join our party this evening, Mr. Browne?"
"Oh, by all manner of means," said he, rubbing his hands together in a sort of ecstasy of anticipation; "I knew that you would do the thing handsome at last. I have not tasted an i'ster since I sang at Niblo's in New York. But did we not come on famously at thecon-sort?Confess, now, that I beat you holler. You singprettywell, but you want confidence. You don't give expression enough to your voice. The applause which followed my first song was tremendous."
"I never heard anything like it, Mr. Browne. I never expect to merit such marks of public approbation."
"All in good time, myleetlefriend," returned he, clapping me familiarly on the shoulder. "Rome was not built in a day, and you are a young man--a very young man--and verysmallfor your age. Your voice will never have the volume and compass of mine. But I smell the i'sters: let's in, for I'm tarnation hungry."
Gentle reader! you would have thought so to have seen him eat. My companions looked rather disconcerted at the rapidity with which they disappeared within his capacious jaws. After satisfying his enormous appetite, he washed down the oysters with long draughts of porter, until his brain becoming affected, he swung his huge body back in his chair, and, placing his feet on the supper-table, began singing in good earnest,--not one song in particular, but a mixture of all that had appeared in the most popular Yankee song books for the last ten years.
I wish I could give you a specimen of the sublime and the ridiculous, thus unceremoniously huddled together. The effect was so irresistible, when contrasted with the grave exterior of the man; that we laughed until our side ached at his absurdities. Exhausted by his constant vociferations, the musician at length dropped from his chair in a drunken sleep upon the floor, and we carried him into the next room and put him to bed; and, after talking over the events of the evening, we retired about midnight to our respective chambers, which all opened into the great room in which I held the concert.
About two o'clock in the morning my sleep was disturbed by the most dismal cries and groans, which appeared to issue from the adjoining apartment. I rubbed my eyes, and sat up in the bed and listened, when I recognized the well-known voice of the singing master, exclaiming in tones of agony and fear--"Landlord! landlord! cum quick. Somebody cum. Landlord! landlord! there's a man under my bed. Oh, Lord! I shall be murdered! a man under my bed!"
As I am not fond of such nocturnal visitors myself, not being much gifted with physical strength or courage, I listened a moment to hear if any one was coming. The sound of approaching footsteps along the passage greatly aided the desperate effort I made to leave my comfortable pillow, and proceed to the scene of action. At the chamber door I met the landlord, armed with the fire-tongs and a light.
"What's all this noise about?" he cried in an angry tone.
I assured him that I was as ignorant as himself of the cause of the disturbance. Here the singing master again sung out--
"Landlord! landlord! there's amanunder thebed. Cum! somebody cum!"
We immediately entered his room, and were joined by two of my friends from W---. Seeing our party strengthened to four, our courage rose amazingly, and we talked loudly of making mincemeat of the intruder, kicking him down stairs, and torturing him in every way we could devise. We found the singing master sitting bolt upright in his bed, his small-clothes gathered up under his arm ready for a start; his face as pale as a sheet, his teeth chattering, and his whole appearance indicative of the most abject fear. We certainly did hear very mysterious sounds issuing from beneath the bed, which caused the boldest of us to draw back.
"He is right," said Roberts; "there is some one under the bed."
"What a set of confounded cowards you are!" cried the landlord; "can't you lift the valance and see what it is?"
He made no effort himself to ascertain the cause of the alarm. Roberts, who, after all, was the boldest man of the party, seized the tongs from the landlord, and, kneeling cautiously down, slowly raised the drapery that surrounded the bed. "Hold the light here, landlord." He did so, but at arm's length. Roberts peeped timidly into the dark void beyond, dropped the valance, and looked up with a comical, quizzing expression, and began to laugh.
"What is it?" we all cried in a breath.
"Landlord! landlord!" he cried, imitating the voice of the singing master, "cum quick! Somebody cum! There's a dog under the bed! He will bite me! Oh, dear! oh, dear! I shall die of hydrophobia. I shall be smothered in a feather-bed!"
"A dog!" said the landlord.
"A dog!" cried we all.
"Aye, a black dog."
"You don't say!" cried the singing master, springing from his bed. "Where is he? I'm able forhimany how." And seizing a corn broom that stood in a corner of the room, he began to poke at the poor animal, and belabour him in the most unmerciful manner.
The dog, who belonged to a drover who penned his cattle in the inn-yard for the night, wishing to find a comfortable domicile, had taken a private survey of the premises when the people were out of the way, and made his quarters under Mr. Browne's bed. When that worthy commenced snoring, the dog, to signify his approbation at finding himself in the company of some one, amused himself by hoisting his tail up and down; now striking the sacking of the bed, and now tapping audibly against the floor. These mysterious salutations became, at length, so frequent and vehement that they awoke the sleeper, who, not daring to ascertain the cause of the alarm, aroused the whole house with his clamours.
Mr. Browne finding himself unable to thrash the poor brute out of his retreat, and having become all of a sudden very brave, crawled under the bed and dragged the dog out by his hind legs.
"You see I'm enough for him; give me the poker, and I'll beat out his brains."
"You'll do no such thing, sir," said the landlord, turning the animal down the stairs. "The dog belongs to a quiet decent fellow, and a good customer, and he shall meet with no ill usage here. Your mountain, Mr. Browne, has brought forth a mouse."
"A dog sir," quoth the singing master, not in the least abashed by the reproof. "If the brute had cut up such a dido under your bed, you would have been as 'turnal sceared as I was."
"Perhaps, Mr. Browne," said I, "you took it for the ghost of the old mare?"
"Ghost or no ghost," returned the landlord, "he has given us a great deal of trouble, and nearly frightened himself into fits."
"The fear was not all on my side," said the indignant vocalist; "and I look upon you as the cause of the whole trouble."
"As how?"
"If the dog had not cum to your house, he never would have found his way under my bed. When I pay for my night's lodging, I don't expect to have to share it with a strange dog--no how."
So saying he retreated, grumbling, back to his bed, and we gladly followed his example.
I rose early in the morning to accompany my friends to W---. At the door of the hotel I was accosted by Mr. Browne--
"Why, you arn't goin' to start without bidding me good-bye? Besides, you have not paid me for my assistance at thecon-sort."
I literally started with surprise at this unexpected demand. "Do you expect a professional price for your services?"
"Well, I guess thecon-sortwould have been nothing without my help; but I won't be hard upon you, as you are a young beginner, and not likely to make your fortune in that line any how. There's that pail of butter; if you don't mean to take it along, I'll take that; we wants butter to hum. Is it a bargain?"
"Oh, yes; if you are satisfied, I am well pleased." (I could have added, to get rid of you at any price.) "You will find it on the table in the hall."
"Not exactly; I took it hum this morning--I thought how it would end. Good-bye to you, Mr. H---. If ever you come this way again, I shall be happy to lend you my assistance."
I never visited that part of the countryside since, but I have no doubt that Mr. Browne is busy in his vocation, and flattering himself that he is one of the first vocalists in the Union. I think he should change his residence, and settle down for life inNew Harmony.
To Adelaide,[1]A Beautiful Young Canadian Lady."Yes, thou art young, and passing fair;But time, that bids all blossoms fade,Will rob thee of the rich and rare;Then list to me, sweet Adelaide.He steals the snow from polish'd brow,From soft bewitching eyes the blue,From smiling lips their ruby glow,From velvet cheeks their rosy hue."Oh, who shall check the spoiler's power?--'Tis more than conquering love may dare;He flutters round youth's summer bower,And reigns o'er hearts like summer fair.He basks himself in sunny eyes,Hides 'mid bright locks, and dimpled smiles;From age he spreads his wings and flies,--Forgets soft vows, and pretty wiles."The charms of mind are ever young,Their beauty never owns decay;The fairest form by poet sung,Before their power must fade away.The mind immortal wins from timeFresh beauties as its years advance;Its flowers bloom fresh in every clime--They cannot yield to change and chance."E'en over love's capricious boyThey hold an undiminish'd sway;For chill and storm can ne'er destroyThe blossoms of eternal day.Then deem these charms, sweet Adelaide,The brightest gems in beauty's zone:Make these thine own,--all others fade;They live when youth and grace are flown."
"Yes, thou art young, and passing fair;But time, that bids all blossoms fade,Will rob thee of the rich and rare;Then list to me, sweet Adelaide.He steals the snow from polish'd brow,From soft bewitching eyes the blue,From smiling lips their ruby glow,From velvet cheeks their rosy hue.
"Yes, thou art young, and passing fair;
But time, that bids all blossoms fade,
Will rob thee of the rich and rare;
Then list to me, sweet Adelaide.
He steals the snow from polish'd brow,
From soft bewitching eyes the blue,
From smiling lips their ruby glow,
From velvet cheeks their rosy hue.
"Oh, who shall check the spoiler's power?--'Tis more than conquering love may dare;He flutters round youth's summer bower,And reigns o'er hearts like summer fair.He basks himself in sunny eyes,Hides 'mid bright locks, and dimpled smiles;From age he spreads his wings and flies,--Forgets soft vows, and pretty wiles.
"Oh, who shall check the spoiler's power?--
'Tis more than conquering love may dare;
He flutters round youth's summer bower,
And reigns o'er hearts like summer fair.
He basks himself in sunny eyes,
Hides 'mid bright locks, and dimpled smiles;
From age he spreads his wings and flies,--
Forgets soft vows, and pretty wiles.
"The charms of mind are ever young,Their beauty never owns decay;The fairest form by poet sung,Before their power must fade away.The mind immortal wins from timeFresh beauties as its years advance;Its flowers bloom fresh in every clime--They cannot yield to change and chance.
"The charms of mind are ever young,
Their beauty never owns decay;
The fairest form by poet sung,
Before their power must fade away.
The mind immortal wins from time
Fresh beauties as its years advance;
Its flowers bloom fresh in every clime--
They cannot yield to change and chance.
"E'en over love's capricious boyThey hold an undiminish'd sway;For chill and storm can ne'er destroyThe blossoms of eternal day.Then deem these charms, sweet Adelaide,The brightest gems in beauty's zone:Make these thine own,--all others fade;They live when youth and grace are flown."
"E'en over love's capricious boy
They hold an undiminish'd sway;
For chill and storm can ne'er destroy
The blossoms of eternal day.
Then deem these charms, sweet Adelaide,
The brightest gems in beauty's zone:
Make these thine own,--all others fade;
They live when youth and grace are flown."
[1]The daughter of Colonel Coleman, of Belleville; now Mrs. Easton.
"On--on!--for ever brightly on,Thy lucid waves are flowing:Thy waters sparkle as they run,Their long, long journey going."S.M.
"On--on!--for ever brightly on,
Thy lucid waves are flowing:
Thy waters sparkle as they run,
Their long, long journey going."
S.M.
We have rounded Ox Point, and Belleville is no longer in sight. The steamboat has struck into mid channel, and the bold shores of the Prince Edward District are before us. Calmly we glide on, and islands and headlands seem to recede from us as we advance; and now they are far in the distance, half seen through the warm purple haze that rests so dreamily upon woods and waters. Heaven is above us, and another heaven--more soft, and not less beautiful--lies mirrored beneath; and within that heaven are traced exquisite forms of earth--trees, and flowers, and verdant slopes, and bold hills, and barren rugged rocks. The scene is one of surpassing loveliness, and we open our hearts to receive its sweet influences, while our eyes rest upon it with intense delight, and the inner voice of the soul whispers--God is here! Dost thou not catch the reflection of his glory in this superb picture of Nature's own painting, while the harmony that surrounds his throne is faintly echoed by the warm balmy wind that stirs the lofty branches of the woods, and the waves that swell and break in gentle undulation against these rocky isles?
"So smiled the heavens upon the vestal earth,The morn she rose exulting from her birth;A living harmony, a perfect planOf power and beauty, ere the rebel manDefiled with sin, and stain'd with kindred blood,The paradise his God pronounced as good."
"So smiled the heavens upon the vestal earth,
The morn she rose exulting from her birth;
A living harmony, a perfect plan
Of power and beauty, ere the rebel man
Defiled with sin, and stain'd with kindred blood,
The paradise his God pronounced as good."
That rugged point to the left contains a fine quarry of limestone, which supplies excellent building materials. The stones are brought by the means of a scow, a very broad flat-bottomed boat, to Belleville, where they are sawn into square blocks, and dressed for doors sills and facings of houses. A little further on, the Salmon river discharges its waters into the bay, and on its shores the village of Shannonville has risen, as if by magic, within a very few years. Three schooners are just now anchored at its mouth, receiving cargoes of sawn lumber to carry over to Oswego. The timber is supplied from the large mill, the din of whose machinery can be heard distinctly at this distance. Lumber forms, at present, the chief article of export from this place. Upwards of one million of sawn lumber was shipped from this embryo town during the past year.
Shannonville owes its present flourishing prospects to the energy and enterprise of a few individuals, who saw at a glance its capabilities, and purchased for a few hundred pounds the site of a town which is now worth as many thousands. The steamboats do not touch at Shannonville, in their trips to and from Kingston. The mouth of the river is too narrow to admit a larger vessel than a schooner, but as the place increases, wharfs will be built at its entrance into the bay.
On the road leading from Belleville to this place, which is in the direct route to Kingston, there is a large tract of plain land which is still uncultivated. The soil is sandy, and the trees are low and far apart, a natural growth short grass and flowering shrubs giving it very much the appearance of a park. Clumps of butternut, and hiccory trees, form picturesque groups; and herds of cattle, belonging to the settlers in the vicinity, roam at large over these plains that sweep down to the water's edge. This is a very favourite resort of summer parties, as you can drive light carriages in all directions over this elevated platform. It used formerly to be a chosen spot for camp-meetings, and all the piously disposed came hither to listen to the preachers, and "get religion."
I never witnessed one of these meetings, but an old lady gave me a very graphic description of one of them that was held on this spot some thirty years ago. There were no churches in Belleville then, and the travelling Methodist ministers used to pitch their tents on these plains, and preach night and day to all goers and comers. A pulpit, formed of rough slabs of wood, was erected in a conveniently open space among the trees, and they took it by turns to read, exhort, and pray, to the dwellers in the wilderness. At right they kindled large fires, which served both for light and warmth, and enabled the pilgrims to this sylvan shrine to cook their food, and attend to their wants of their little ones. Large booths, made of the boughs of trees, sheltered the worshippers from the heat of the sun during the day, or from the occasional showers produced by some passing thunder cloud at night.
"Our bush farm," said my friend, "happened to be near the spot, and I went with a young girl, a friend and neighbour, partly out of curiosity and partly out of fun, to hear the preaching. It was the middle of July, but the weather was unusually wet for that time of year, and every tent and booth was crowded with men, women, and children, all huddled together to keep out of the rain. Most of these tents exhibited some extraordinary scene of fanaticism and religious enthusiasm; the noise and confusion were deafening. Men were preaching at the very top of their voice; women were shrieking and groaning, beating their breasts and tearing their hair, while others were uttering the most frantic outcries, which they calledejaculatory prayers. One thought possessed me all the time, that the whole assembly were mad, and that they imagined God to be deaf, and that he could not hear them without their making this shocking noise. It would appear to you like the grossest blasphemy were I to repeat to you some of their exclamations; but one or two were so absurdly ridiculous, that I cannot help giving them as I heard them.
"One young woman, after lying foaming and writhing upon the ground, like a creature possessed, sprang up several feet into the air, exclaiming, 'I have got it! I have got it! I have got it!' To which others responded--'Keep it! keep it! keep it!' I asked a bystander what she meant. He replied, 'she has got religion. It is the Spirit that is speaking in her.' I felt too much shocked to laugh out, yet could scarcely retain my gravity.
"Passing by one of the tents, I saw a very fat woman lying upon a bench on her face, uttering the most dismal groans, while two well-fed, sleek-looking ministers, in rusty black coats and very dirty-looking white chokers, were drumming upon her fat back with their fists, exclaiming--'Here's glory! here's glory, my friends! Satan is departing out of this woman. Hallelujah!' This spectacle was too shocking to provoke a smile.
"There was a young lady dressed in a very nice silk gown. Silk was a very scarce and expensive article in those days. The poor girl got dreadfully excited, and was about to fling herself down upon the wet grass, to show the depth of her humility and contrition, when she suddenly remembered the precious silk dress, and taking a shawl of less value from her shoulders, carefully spread it over the wet ground.
"Ah, my dear friend," continued the old lady, "one had a deal to learn at that camp-meeting. A number of those people knew no more what they were about than persons in a dream. They worked themselves up to a pitch of frenzy, because they saw others carried away by the same spirit; and they seemed to try which could make the most noise, and throw themselves into the most unnatural positions. Few of them carried the religious zeal they manifested in such a strange way at that meeting, into their own homes. Before the party broke up it was forgotten, and they were laughing and chatting about their worldly affairs. The young lads were sparking the girls, and the girls laughing and flirting with them. I remarked to an old farmer, who was reckoned a very pious man, 'that such conduct, in persons who had just been in a state of despair about their sins, was very inconsistent, to say the least of it;' and he replied, with a sanctimonious smile--'It is only the Lord's lambs, playing with each other.'"
These camp-meetings seldom take place near large towns, where the people have the benefit of a resident minister, but they still occur on the borders of civilization, and present the same disorderly mixture of fanaticism and vanity.
More persons go for a frolic than to obtain any spiritual benefit. In illustration of this, I will tell you a story which a very beautiful young married lady told to me with much glee, for the thing happened to herself, and she was the principal actor in the scene.
"I had an aunt, the wife of a very wealthy yeoman, who lived in one of the back townships of C---, on the St. Lawrence. She was a very pious and hospitable woman, and none knew it better than the travelling ministers, who were always well fed and well lodged at her house, particularly when they assembled to hold a camp-meeting, which took place once in several years in that neighbourhood.
"I was a girl of fifteen, and was staying with my aunt for the benefit of the country-air, when one of these great gatherings took place. Having heard a great deal about their strange doings at these meetings, I begged very hard to be allowed to make one of the spectators. My aunt, who knew what a merry, light-hearted creature I was, demurred for some time before she granted my request.
"'If the child does notget religion,' she said, 'she will turn it all into fun, and it will do her more harm than good.'
"Aunt was right enough in her conjunctures; but still she entertained a latent hope, that the zeal of the preachers, the excitement of the scene, and the powerful influence produced by the example of the pious, might have a beneficial effect on my young mind, and lead to my conversion. Aunt had herself been reclaimed from a state of careless indifference by attending one of these meetings, and at last it was determined that I was to go.
"First came the ministers, and then the grand feed my aunt had prepared for them, before they opened the campaign. Never shall I forget how those holy men devoured the good things set before them. I stood gazing upon them in utter astonishment, wondering when their meal would come to an end. They none wore whiskers, and their broad fat faces literally shone with high feeding. When I laughed at their being such excellent knife and fork men, aunt gravely reproved my levity, by saying, 'that the labourer was worthy of his hire; and that it would be a great sin to muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn; that field preaching was a very exhausting thing, and that these pious men required a great deal of nourishment to keep up their strength for the performance of good work.'
"After they were gone, I dressed and accompanied my aunt to the scene of action.
"It was a lovely spot, about a mile from the house. The land rose in a gentle slope from the river, and was surrounded on three sides by lofty woods. The front gave us a fine view of the St. Lawrence, rushing along in its strength, the distant murmur of the waves mingling with the sigh of the summer breeze, that swept the dense foliage of the forest trees. The place had been cleared many years before, and was quite free from stumps and fallen timber, the ground carpeted with soft moss and verdant fresh looking turf.
"The area allotted for the meeting was fenced around with the long thin trunks of sapling trees, that were tied together with strips of bass-wood. In the centre of the enclosure was the platform for the preachers, constructed of rough slabs, and directly behind this rural pulpit was a large tent connected with it by a flight of board steps. Here the preachers retired, after delivering their lectures, to rest and refresh themselves. Fronting the platform was a sort of amphitheatre of booths, constructed of branches of trees, and containing benches of boards supported at either end by a round log laid lengthwise at the sides of the tent. Behind these rough benches persons had placed mattrasses, which they had brought with them in their waggons, that such as came from a distance might not want for a bed during their stay--some of these meetings lasting over a week.
"The space without the enclosure was occupied by a double line of carts, waggons, light carriages, and ox sleds, while the animals undivested of their harness were browsing peacefully among the trees. The inner space was crowded with persons of all classes, but the poorer certainly predominated. Well dressed, respectable people, however, were not wanting; and though I came there to see and to be seen, to laugh and to make others laugh, I must confess that I was greatly struck with the imposing and picturesque scene before me, particularly when a number of voices joined in singing the hymn with which the service commenced."
There is something very touching in this blending of human voices in the open air--this choral song of praise borne upwards from the earth, and ascending through the clear atmosphere to heaven. Leaving my friend and her curious narrative for a few minutes, I must remark here the powerful effect produced upon my mind by hearing "God save the King," sung by the thousands of London on the proclamation of William IV. It was impossible to distinguish good or bad voices in such a mighty volume of sound, which rolled through the air like a peal of solemn thunder. It thrilled through my heart, and paled my cheek. It seemed to me the united voice of a whole nation rising to the throne of God, and it was the grandest combination of sound and sentiment that ever burst upon human ears. Long, long may that thrilling anthem rise from the heart of England, in strains of loyal thanksgiving and praise, to the throne of that Eternal Potentate in whose hand is the fate of princes!
"There were numbers of persons who, like myself, came there for amusement, and who seemed to enjoy themselves quite as much as I did. The preaching at length commenced with a long prayer, followed by an admonitory address, urging those present to see their danger, repent of their sins, and flee from the wrath to come.
"Towards the middle of his discourse, the speaker wrought himself up into such a religious fury that it became infectious, and cries and groans resounded on all sides; and the prayers poured out by repentant sinners for mercy and pardon were heart-rending. The speaker at length became speechless from exhaustion, and stopping suddenly in the midst of his too eloquent harangue, he tied a red cotton handkerchief round his head, and hastily descended the steps, and disappeared in the tent provided for the accommodation of the ministers. His place was instantly supplied by a tall, dark, melancholy looking man, who, improving upon his reverend brother's suggestions, drew such an awful picture of the torments endured by the damned, that several women fainted, while others were shrieking in violent hysterics.
"I had listened to the former speaker with attention and respect, but this man's violent denunciations rather tended to harden my heart, and make me resist any religious feeling that had been growing up in my breast. I began to tire of the whole thing, and commenced looking about for some object that might divert my thoughts into a less gloomy channel.
"The bench on which I, together with a number of persons, was sitting, was so insecurely placed on the round rolling logs that supported it, that I perceived that the least motion given to it at my end would capsize it, and bring all the dear groaning creatures who were sitting upon it, with their eyes turned up to the preacher, sprawling on the ground.
"'Would it not be glorious fun?' whispered the spirit of mischief--perhaps the old one himself--in my ears. 'I cando it, and Iwill do it--so here goes!' As I sat next to the round log that supported my end of the plank, I had only to turn my face that way, and apply my foot like a lever to the round trunk, on which the end of the bench had the slightest possible hold, and the contemplated downfall became a certainty. No sooner thought than done. The next moment old and young, fat and lean, women and children, lay sprawling together on the ground, in the most original attitudes and picturesque confusion. I, for my part, was lying very comfortably on one of the mattrasses, laughing until real tears, but not of contrition, streamed down my face.
"Never shall I forget a fat old farmer, who used to visit at my aunt's, as he crawled out of the human heap on all fours, and shook his head at me--
"'You wicked young sinner, this is all your doings.'
"Before the storm could burst upon me, I got up and ran laughing out of the tent, and hid myself among the trees to enjoy my wicked thoughts alone. Here I remained for a long time, watching, at a safe distance, the mad gesticulations of the preacher, who was capering up and down on the platform, and using the most violent and extravagant language, until at length, overcome by his vehemence, he too tied the invariable red handkerchief round his head, and tumbled back into the tent, to be succeeded by another and another.
"Night, with all her stars, was now stealing upon us; but the light from a huge pile of burning logs, and from torches composed of fat pine, and stuck in iron grates supported on poles in different parts of the plain, scattered the darkness back to the woods, and made it as light as noon-day.
"The scene was now wild in the extreme: the red light streamed upon the moving mass of human beings who pressed around the pulpit, glaring upon clenched fists and upturned faces, while the preacher standing above them, and thrown into strong relief, with his head held back and his hands raised towards heaven, looked like some inspired prophet of old, calling down fire from heaven to consume the ungodly. It was a spectacle to inspire both fear and awe, but I could only view it in the most absurd light, and laugh at it.
"At length I was determined to know what became of the preachers, after tying the red handkerchief round their heads and retreating to their tents. I crept carefully round to the back of this holy of holies, and applying my eyes to a little aperture in the canvas, I saw by the light of a solitary candle several men lying upon mattrasses fast asleep, their noses making anything but a musical response to the hymns and prayers without. While I was gazing upon these prostrate forms, thus soundly sleeping after the hubbub and excitement their discourse had occasioned among their congregation, the last speaker hastily entered the tent, and flinging himself on to the floor, exclaimed, in a sort of ecstacy of gratitude--'Well, thank God my task is ended for the night; and now for a good sleep!'
"While I was yet pondering these things in my heart, I felt the grasp of a hand upon my shoulder. I turned with a shriek; it was my aunt seeking me. 'What are you doing here?' she said, rather angrily.
"'Studying my lesson, aunt,' said I, gravely, pointing to the sleepers. 'Do these men preach for their own honour and glory, or for the glory of God? I have tried to find out, but I can't tell.'
"'The night's grown chilly, child,' said my aunt, avoiding the answer I expected; 'it is time you were in bed.'
"We went home. I got a sound lecture for the trick I had played, and I never went to a camp-meeting again; yet, in spite of my bad conduct as a child, I believe they often do good, and are the means of making careless people think of the state of their souls."
Though the steamboats do not stop at Shannonville, they never fail to do so at the pretty town of Northport, on the other side of the bay, in order to take in freight and passengers.
Northport rises with a very steep slope from the water's edge, and the steamer runs into the wharf which projects but a few feet froth the shore. Down the long hill which leads to the main street, men and boys are running to catch a sight of the steamboat, and hear the news. All is bustle and confusion. Barrels of flour are being rolled into the boat, and sheep and cattle are led off--men hurry on board with trunks and carpet-bags--and women, with children in their arms or led by the hand, hasten on board;--while our passengers, descending to the wharf, are shaking hands with merchants and farmers, and talking over the current prices of grain and merchandise at their respective towns. The bell rings--the cable that bound us to the friendly wharf is cast off and flung on the deck the steamer opens her deep lungs, and we are once more stemming our way towards Kingston.
While we sail up that romantic part of the Bay of Quinte, called the "Long Reach," at the head of which stands the beautiful town of Picton, I will give you a few reminiscences of Northport. It is a most quiet and primitive village, and one might truly exclaim with Moore--