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<h2> CHAPTER XVI — BURNING THE FALLOW </h2>
<p>There is a hollow roaring in the air—<br/>
The hideous hissing of ten thousand flames,<br/>
That from the centre of yon sable cloud<br/>
Leap madly up, like serpents in the dark,<br/>
Shaking their arrowy tongues at Nature's heart.<br/></p>
<p>It is not my intention to give a regular history of our residence in the
bush, but merely to present to my readers such events as may serve to
illustrate a life in the woods.</p>
<p>The winter and spring of 1834 had passed away. The latter was uncommonly
cold and backward; so much so that we had a very heavy fall of snow upon
the 14th and 15th of May, and several gentlemen drove down to Cobourg in a
sleigh, the snow lying upon the ground to the depth of several inches.</p>
<p>A late, cold spring in Canada is generally succeeded by a burning hot
summer; and the summer of '34 was the hottest I ever remember. No rain
fell upon the earth for many weeks, till nature drooped and withered
beneath one bright blaze of sunlight; and the ague and fever in the woods,
and the cholera in the large towns and cities, spread death and sickness
through the country.</p>
<p>Moodie had made during the winter a large clearing of twenty acres around
the house. The progress of the workmen had been watched by me with the
keenest interest. Every tree that reached the ground opened a wider gap in
the dark wood, giving us a broader ray of light and a clearer glimpse of
the blue sky. But when the dark cedar-swamp fronting the house fell
beneath the strokes of the axe, and we got a first view of the lake, my
joy was complete; a new and beautiful object was now constantly before me,
which gave me the greatest pleasure. By night and day, in sunshine or in
storm, water is always the most sublime feature in a landscape, and no
view can be truly grand in which it is wanting. From a child, it always
had the most powerful effect upon my mind, from the great ocean rolling in
majesty, to the tinkling forest rill, hidden by the flowers and rushes
along its banks. Half the solitude of my forest home vanished when the
lake unveiled its bright face to the blue heavens, and I saw sun and moon,
and stars and waving trees reflected there. I would sit for hours at the
window as the shades of evening deepened round me, watching the massy
foliage of the forests pictured in the waters, till fancy transported me
back to England, and the songs of birds and the lowing of cattle were
sounding in my ears. It was long, very long, before I could discipline my
mind to learn and practice all the menial employments which are necessary
in a good settler's wife.</p>
<p>The total absence of trees about the doors in all new settlements had
always puzzled me, in a country where the intense heat of summer seems to
demand all the shade that can be procured. My husband had left several
beautiful rock-elms (the most picturesque tree in the country) near our
dwelling, but alas! the first high gale prostrated all my fine trees, and
left our log cottage entirely exposed to the fierce rays of the sun.</p>
<p>The confusion of an uncleared fallow spread around us on every side. Huge
trunks of trees and piles of brush gave a littered and uncomfortable
appearance to the locality, and as the weather had been very dry for some
weeks, I heard my husband daily talking with his choppers as to the
expediency of firing the fallow. They still urged him to wait a little
longer, until he could get a good breeze to carry the fire well through
the brush.</p>
<p>Business called him suddenly to Toronto, but he left a strict charge with
old Thomas and his sons, who were engaged in the job, by no means to
attempt to burn it off until he returned, as he wished to be upon the
premises himself, in case of any danger. He had previously burnt all the
heaps immediately about the doors.</p>
<p>While he was absent, old Thomas and his second son fell sick with the
ague, and went home to their own township, leaving John, a surly,
obstinate young man, in charge of the shanty, where they slept, and kept
their tools and provisions.</p>
<p>Monaghan I had sent to fetch up my three cows, as the children were
languishing for milk, and Mary and I remained alone in the house with the
little ones.</p>
<p>The day was sultry, and towards noon a strong wind sprang up that roared
in the pine tops like the dashing of distant billows, but without in the
least degree abating the heat. The children were lying listlessly upon the
floor for coolness, and the girl and I were finishing sun-bonnets, when
Mary suddenly exclaimed, “Bless us, mistress, what a smoke!” I ran
immediately to the door, but was not able to distinguish ten yards before
me. The swamp immediately below us was on fire, and the heavy wind was
driving a dense black cloud of smoke directly towards us.</p>
<p>“What can this mean?” I cried, “Who can have set fire to the fallow?”</p>
<p>As I ceased speaking, John Thomas stood pale and trembling before me.
“John, what is the meaning of this fire?”</p>
<p>“Oh, ma'am, I hope you will forgive me; it was I set fire to it, and I
would give all I have in the world if I had not done it.”</p>
<p>“What is the danger?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I'm terribly afear'd that we shall all be burnt up,” said the fellow,
beginning to whimper.</p>
<p>“Why did you run such a risk, and your master from home, and no one on the
place to render the least assistance?”</p>
<p>“I did it for the best,” blubbered the lad. “What shall we do?”</p>
<p>“Why, we must get out of it as fast as we can, and leave the house to its
fate.”</p>
<p>“We can't get out,” said the man, in a low, hollow tone, which seemed the
concentration of fear; “I would have got out of it if I could; but just
step to the back door, ma'am, and see.”</p>
<p>I had not felt the least alarm up to this minute; I had never seen a
fallow burnt, but I had heard of it as a thing of such common occurrence
that I had never connected with it any idea of danger. Judge then, my
surprise, my horror, when, on going to the back door, I saw that the
fellow, to make sure of his work, had fired the field in fifty different
places. Behind, before, on every side, we were surrounded by a wall of
fire, burning furiously within a hundred yards of us, and cutting off all
possibility of retreat; for could we have found an opening through the
burning heaps, we could not have seen our way through the dense canopy of
smoke; and, buried as we were in the heart of the forest, no one could
discover our situation till we were beyond the reach of help.</p>
<p>I closed the door, and went back to the parlour. Fear was knocking loudly
at my heart, for our utter helplessness annihilated all hope of being able
to effect our escape—I felt stupefied. The girl sat upon the floor
by the children, who, unconscious of the peril that hung over them, had
both fallen asleep. She was silently weeping; while the fool who had
caused the mischief was crying aloud.</p>
<p>A strange calm succeeded my first alarm; tears and lamentations were
useless; a horrible death was impending over us, and yet I could not
believe that we were to die. I sat down upon the step of the door, and
watched the awful scene in silence. The fire was raging in the cedar-swamp
immediately below the ridge on which the house stood, and it presented a
spectacle truly appalling. From out the dense folds of a canopy of black
smoke, the blackest I ever saw, leaped up continually red forks of lurid
flame as high as the tree tops, igniting the branches of a group of tall
pines that had been left standing for saw-logs.</p>
<p>A deep gloom blotted out the heavens from our sight. The air was filled
with fiery particles, which floated even to the door-step—while the
crackling and roaring of the flames might have been heard at a great
distance. Could we have reached the lake shore, where several canoes were
moored at the landing, by launching out into the water we should have been
in perfect safety; but, to attain this object, it was necessary to pass
through this mimic hell; and not a bird could have flown over it with
unscorched wings. There was no hope in that quarter, for, could we have
escaped the flames, we should have been blinded and choked by the thick,
black, resinous smoke.</p>
<p>The fierce wind drove the flames at the sides and back of the house up the
clearing; and our passage to the road, or to the forest, on the right and
left, was entirely obstructed by a sea of flames. Our only ark of safety
was the house, so long as it remained untouched by the consuming element.
I turned to young Thomas, and asked him, how long he thought that would
be.</p>
<p>“When the fire clears this little ridge in front, ma'am. The Lord have
mercy upon us, then, or we must all go!”</p>
<p>“Cannot you, John, try and make your escape, and see what can be done for
us and the poor children?”</p>
<p>My eye fell upon the sleeping angels, locked peacefully in each other's
arms, and my tears flowed for the first time.</p>
<p>Mary, the servant-girl, looked piteously up in my face. The good, faithful
creature had not uttered one word of complaint, but now she faltered forth—</p>
<p>“The dear, precious lambs!—Oh! such a death!”</p>
<p>I threw myself down upon the floor beside them, and pressed them
alternately to my heart, while inwardly I thanked God that they were
asleep, unconscious of danger, and unable by their childish cries to
distract our attention from adopting any plan which might offer to effect
their escape.</p>
<p>The heat soon became suffocating. We were parched with thirst, and there
was not a drop of water in the house, and none to be procured nearer than
the lake. I turned once more to the door, hoping that a passage might have
been burnt through to the water. I saw nothing but a dense cloud of fire
and smoke—could hear nothing but the crackling and roaring of the
flames, which were gaining so fast upon us that I felt their scorching
breath in my face.</p>
<p>“Ah,” thought I—and it was a most bitter thought—“what will my
beloved husband say when he returns and finds that his poor Susy and his
dear girls have perished in this miserable manner? But God can save us
yet.”</p>
<p>The thought had scarcely found a voice in my heart before the wind rose to
a hurricane, scattering the flames on all sides into a tempest of burning
billows. I buried my head in my apron, for I thought that our time was
come, and that all was lost, when a most terrific crash of thunder burst
over our heads, and, like the breaking of a water-spout, down came the
rushing torrent of rain which had been pent up for so many weeks.</p>
<p>In a few minutes the chip-yard was all afloat, and the fire effectually
checked. The storm which, unnoticed by us, had been gathering all day, and
which was the only one of any note we had that summer, continued to rage
all night, and before morning had quite subdued the cruel enemy, whose
approach we had viewed with such dread.</p>
<p>The imminent danger in which we had been placed struck me more forcibly
after it was past than at the time, and both the girl and myself sank upon
our knees, and lifted up our hearts in humble thanksgiving to that God who
had saved us by an act of His Providence from an awful and sudden death.
When all hope from human assistance was lost, His hand was mercifully
stretched forth, making His strength more perfectly manifested in our
weakness:—</p>
<p>“He is their stay when earthly help is lost,<br/>
The light and anchor of the tempest-toss'd.”<br/></p>
<p>There was one person unknown to us, who had watched the progress of that
rash blaze, and had even brought his canoe to the landing, in the hope of
us getting off. This was an Irish pensioner named Dunn, who had cleared a
few acres on his government grant, and had built a shanty on the opposite
shore of the lake.</p>
<p>“Faith, madam! an' I thought the captain was stark, staring mad to fire
his fallow on such a windy day, and that blowing right from the lake to
the house. When Old Wittals came in and towld us that the masther was not
to the fore, but only one lad, an' the wife an' the chilther at home,—thinks
I, there's no time to be lost, or the crathurs will be burnt up intirely.
We started instanther, but, by Jove! we were too late. The swamp was all
in a blaze when we got to the landing, and you might as well have thried
to get to heaven by passing through the other place.”</p>
<p>This was the eloquent harangue with which the honest creature informed me
the next morning of the efforts he had made to save us, and the interest
he had felt in our critical situation. I felt comforted for my past
anxiety, by knowing that one human being, however humble, had sympathised
in our probable fate, while the providential manner in which we had been
rescued will ever remain a theme of wonder and gratitude.</p>
<p>The next evening brought the return of my husband, who listened to the
tale of our escape with a pale and disturbed countenance; not a little
thankful to find his wife and children still in the land of the living.</p>
<p>For a long time after the burning of that fallow, it haunted me in my
dreams. I would awake with a start, imagining myself fighting with the
flames, and endeavouring to carry my little children through them to the
top of the clearing, when invariably their garments and my own took fire
just as I was within reach of a place of safety.</p>
<h3> THE FORGOTTEN DREAM </h3>
<p>Ere one ruddy streak of light<br/>
Glimmer'd o'er the distant height,<br/>
Kindling with its living beam<br/>
Frowning wood and cold grey stream,<br/>
I awoke with sudden start,<br/>
Clammy brow and beating heart,<br/>
Trembling limbs, convulsed and chill,<br/>
Conscious of some mighty ill;<br/>
Yet unable to recall<br/>
Sights that did my sense appal;<br/>
Sounds that thrill'd my sleeping ear<br/>
With unutterable fear;<br/>
Forms that to my sleeping eye<br/>
Presented some strange phantasy—<br/>
Shadowy, spectral, and sublime,<br/>
That glance upon the sons of time<br/>
At moments when the mind, o'erwrought,<br/>
Yields reason to mysterious thought,<br/>
And night and solitude in vain<br/>
Bind the free spirit in their chain.<br/>
Such the vision wild that press'd<br/>
On tortur'd brain and heaving chest;<br/>
But sight and sound alike are gone,<br/>
I woke, and found myself alone;<br/>
With choking sob and stifled scream<br/>
To bless my God 'twas but a dream!<br/>
To smooth my damp and stiffen'd hair,<br/>
And murmur out the Saviour's prayer—<br/>
The first to grateful memory brought,<br/>
The first a gentle mother taught,<br/>
When, bending o'er her children's bed,<br/>
She bade good angels guard my head;<br/>
Then paused, with tearful eyes, and smiled<br/>
On the calm slumbers of her child—<br/>
As God himself had heard her prayer,<br/>
And holy angels worshipped there.<br/></p>
<p><br/><br/></p>
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