“Now where the wave, with loud unquiet
song,
Dash’d o’er the rocky channel,
froths along,
Or where the silver waters soothed to
rest,
The tree’s tall shadow sleeps upon
its breast.”
-- COLERIDGE.
The Indian camp remained for nearly
three weeks on this spot, and
then early one morning the wigwams were all taken
down, and the canoes, six in number, proceeded up
the river. There was very little variety in the
scenery to interest Catharine; the river still kept
its slow flowing course between low shores, thickly
clothed with trees, without an opening through which
the eye might pierce to form an idea of the country
beyond; not a clearing, not a sight or sound of civilized
man was there to be seen or heard; the darting flight
of the wild birds as they flitted across from one
side to the other, the tapping of the woodpeckers or
shrill cry of the blue jay, was all that was heard,
from sunrise to sunset, on that monotonous voyage.
After many hours a decided change was perceived in
the current, which ran at a considerable increase of
swiftness, so that it required the united energy of
both men and women to keep the light vessels from
drifting down the river again. They were in the
Rapids, and it was
hard work to stem the tide, and keep the upward course
of the waters. At length the rapids were passed,
and the weary Indian voyagers rested for a space on
the bosom of a small but tranquil lake.
The rising moon shed her silvery light upon the calm
waters, and heaven’s stars shone down into its
quiet depths, as the canoes with their dusky freight
parted the glittering rays with their light paddles.
As they proceeded onward the banks rose on either side,
still fringed with pine, cedar and oaks. At an
angle of the lake the banks on either side ran out
into two opposite peninsulas, forming a narrow passage
or gorge, contracting the lake once more into the
appearance of a broad river, much wider from shore
to shore than any other part they had passed through
since they had left the entrance at the Rice Lake.
Catharine became interested in the
change of scenery, her eye dwelt with delight on the
forms of glorious spreading oaks and lofty pines, green
cliff-like shores and low wooded islands; while as
they proceeded the sound of rapid flowing waters met
her ear, and soon the white and broken eddies rushing
along with impetuous course were seen by the light
of the moon; and while she was wondering if the canoes
were to stem those rapids, at a signal from the old
chief, the little fleet was pushed to shore on a low
flat of emerald verdure nearly opposite to the last
island.
Here, under the shelter of some beautiful
spreading black oaks, the women prepared to set up
their wigwams. They had brought the poles
and birch-bark covering from the encampment below,
and soon all was bustle and business; unloading the
canoes, and raising the tents. Even Catharine
lent a willing hand to assist the females in bringing
up the stores, and sundry baskets containing fruits
and other small wares. She then kindly attended
to the Indian children, certain dark-skinned babes,
who, bound upon their wooden cradles, were either set
up against the trunks of the trees, or swung to some
lowly depending branch, there to remain helpless and
uncomplaining spectators of the scene.
Catharine thought these Indian babes
were almost as much to be pitied as herself, only
that they were unconscious of their imprisoned state,
having from birth been used to no better treatment,
and moreover they were sure to be rewarded by the
tender caresses of living mothers when the season
of refreshment and repose arrived; but she alas! was
friendless and alone, an orphan girl, reft of father,
mother, kindred and friends. One Father, one
Friend, poor Catharine, thou hadst, even He the
Father of the fatherless.
That night when the women and children
were sleeping, Catharine stole out of the wigwam,
and climbed the precipitous bank beneath the shelter
of which the lodges had been erected. She found
herself upon a grassy plain, studded with majestic
oaks and pines, so beautifully grouped that they might
have been planted by the hand of taste upon that velvet
turf. It was a delightful contrast to those dense
dark forests through which for so many many miles
the waters of the Otonabee had flowed on monotonously;
here it was all wild and free, dashing along like a
restive steed rejoicing in its liberty, uncurbed and
tameless.
Yes, here it was beautiful! Catharine
gazed with joy upon the rushing river, and felt her
own heart expand as she marked its rapid course, as
it bounded murmuring and fretting over its rocky bed.
“Happy, glorious waters! you are not subject
to the power of any living creature, no canoe can
ascend those surging waves; I would that I too, like
thee, were free to pursue my onward way how
soon would I flee away and be at rest!” Such
thoughts perhaps might have passed through the mind
of the lonely captive girl, as she sat at the foot
of one giant oak, and looked abroad over those moonlit
waters, till, oppressed by the overwhelming sense
of the utter loneliness of the scene, the timid girl
with faltering step hurried down once more to the
wigwams, silently crept to the mat where her
bed was spread, and soon forgot all her woes and wanderings
in deep tranquil sleep.
Catharine wondered that the Indians
in erecting their lodges always seemed to prefer the
low, level, and often swampy grounds by the lakes
and rivers in preference to the higher and more healthy
elevations. So disregardful are they of this
circumstance, that they do not hesitate to sleep where
the ground is saturated with moisture. They will
then lay a temporary flooring of cedar or any other
bark beneath their feet, rather than remove the tent
a few feet higher up, where a drier soil may always
be found. This either arises from stupidity or
indolence, perhaps from both, but it is no doubt the
cause of much of the sickness that prevails among,
them. With his feet stretched to the fire the
Indian cares for nothing else when reposing in his
wigwam, and it is useless to urge the improvement
that might be made in his comfort; he listens with
a face of apathy, and utters his everlasting guttural,
which saves him the trouble of a more rational reply.
“Snow-bird” informed Catharine
that the lodges would not again be removed for some
time, but that the men would hunt and fish, while the
squaws pursued their domestic labours. Catharine
perceived that the chief of the laborious part of
the work fell to the share of the females, who were
very much more industrious and active than their husbands;
these, when not out hunting or fishing, were to be
seen reposing in easy indolence under the shade of
the trees, or before the tent fires, giving themselves
little concern about anything that was going on.
The squaws were gentle, humble, and submissive;
they bore without a murmur pain, labour, hunger, and
fatigue, and seemed to perform every task with patience
and good humour. They made the canoes, in which
the men sometimes assisted them, pitched the tents,
converted the skins of the animals which the men shot
into clothes, cooked the victuals, manufactured baskets
of every kind, wove mats, dyed the quills of the porcupine,
sewed the mocassins, and in short performed a
thousand tasks which it would be difficult to enumerate.
Of the ordinary household work, such
as is familiar to European females, they of course
knew nothing; they had no linen to wash or iron, no
floors to clean, no milking of cows, nor churning of
butter.
Their carpets were fresh cedar boughs
spread upon the ground, and only renewed when they
became offensively dirty from the accumulation of fish
bones and other offal, which are carelessly flung down
during meals. Of furniture they had none, their
seat the ground, their table the same, their beds
mats or skins of animals, such were the
domestic arrangements of the Indian camp.
In the tent to which Catharine belonged, which was
that of the widow and her sons, a greater degree of
order and cleanliness prevailed than in any other,
for Catharine’s natural love of neatness and
comfort induced her to strew the floor with fresh
cedar or hemlock every day or two, and to sweep round
the front of the lodge, removing all unseemly objects
from its vicinity. She never failed to wash herself
in the river, and arrange her hair with the comb that
Louis had made for her; and took great care of the
little child, which she kept clean and well fed.
She loved this little creature, for it was soft and
gentle, meek and playful as a little squirrel, and
the Indian mothers all looked with kinder eyes upon
the white maiden, for the loving manner in which she
tended their children. The heart of woman is
seldom cold to those who cherish their offspring,
and Catharine began to experience the truth, that the
exercise of those human charities is equally beneficial
to those who give and those that receive; these things
fall upon the heart as dew upon a thirsty soil, giving
and creating a blessing. But we will leave Catharine
for a short season, among the lodges of the Indians,
and return to Hector and Louis.