Part 28 (2/2)

”Since I have been in the country,” continued Mrs. H---, ”I have known many cases of children, and even of grown persons, being lost in the woods, who were never heard of again. It is a frightful calamity to happen to any one; for should they escape from the claws of wild animals, these dense forests contain nothing on which life can be supported for any length of time. The very boughs of the trees are placed so far from the ground, that no child could reach or climb to them; and there is so little brush and small bushes among these giant trees, that no sort of fruit can be obtained, on which they might subsist while it remained in season. It is only in clearings, or where the fire has run through the forest, that strawberries or raspberries are to be found; and at this season of the year, and in the winter, a strong man could not exist many days in the wilderness let alone a child.

”Parents cannot be too careful in guarding their young folks against rambling alone in the bush. Persons, when once they get off the beaten track, get frightened and bewildered, and lose all presence of mind; and instead of remaining where they are when they first discover their misfortune--which is the only chance they have of being found--they plunge desperately on, running hither and thither, in the hope of getting out, while they only involve themselves more deeply among the mazes of the interminable forest.

”Some winters ago, the daughter of a settler in the remote towns.h.i.+p of Dummer (where my husband took up his grant of wild land, and in which we lived for two years) went with her father to the mill, which was four miles from their log-shanty, and the road lay entirely through the bush.

For awhile the girl, who was about twelve years of age, kept up with her father, who walked briskly ahead with his bag of corn on his back; for as their path lay through a tangled swamp, he was anxious to get home before night. After some time, Sarah grew tired with stepping up and down over the fallen logs that strewed their path, and lagged a long way behind. The man felt not the least apprehensive when he lost sight of her, expecting that she would soon come up with him again. Once or twice he stopped and shouted, and she answered, 'Coming, father!' and he did not turn to look after her again. He reached the mill, saw the grist ground, resumed his burden, and took the road home, expecting to meet Sarah by the way. He trod the long path alone; but still he thought that the girl, tired with her walk in the woods, had turned back, and he should find her safe at home.

”You may imagine, Mrs. M---, his consternation, and that of the family, when they found that the girl was lost.

”It was now dark, and all search for her was given up for that night as hopeless. By day-break the next morning the whole settlement which was then confined to a few lonely log tenements, inhabited solely by Cornish miners, were roused from their sleep to a.s.sist in the search.

”The men turned out with guns and horns, and divided into parties, that started in different directions. Those who first discovered Sarah were to fire their guns, which was to be the signal to guide the rest to the spot. It was not long before they found the object of their search, seated under a tree about half a mile from the path she had lost on the preceding day.

”She had been tempted by the beauty of some wild flowers to leave the road; and, when once in the forest, she grew bewildered, and could not find her way back. At first she ran to and fro, in an agony of terror at finding herself in the woods all alone, and uttered loud and frantic cries; but her father had by this time reached the mill, and was out of hearing.

”With a sagacity beyond her years, and not very common to her cla.s.s, instead of wandering further into the labyrinth which surrounded her, she sat down under a large tree, covered her face with her ap.r.o.n, said the Lord's prayer--the only one she knew, and hoped that G.o.d would send her father back to find her the moment he discovered that she was lost.

”When night came down upon the forest, (and oh! how dark night is in the woods!) the poor girl said that she felt horribly afraid of being eaten by the wolves that abound in those dreary swamps; but she did not cry, for fear they should hear her. Simple girl! she did not know that the scent of a wolf is far keener than his ear; but this was her notion, and she lay down close to the ground and never once uncovered her head, for fear of seeing something dreadful standing beside her; until, overcome by terror and fatigue, she fell fast asleep, and did not awake till roused by the shrill braying of the horns, and the shouts of the party who were seeking her.”

”What a dreadful situation! I am sure that I should not have had the courage of this poor girl, but should have died with fear.”

”We don't know how much we can bear till we are tried. This girl was more fortunate than a boy of the same age, who was lost in the same towns.h.i.+p just as the winter set in. The lad was sent by his father, an English settler, in company with two boys of his own age, the sons of neighbours, to be measured for a pair of shoes. George Desne, who followed the double occupation of farmer and shoemaker, lived about three miles from the clearing known as the English line. After the lads left their home, the road lay entirely through the bush. It was a path they had often travelled, both alone and with their parents, and they felt no fear.

”There had been a slight fall of snow, just enough to cover the ground, and the day was clear and frosty. The boys in this country always hail with delight the first fall of snow; and they ran races and slid over all the shallow pools, until they reached George Desne's cabin. He measured young Brown for a strong pair of winter boots, and the boys returned on their homeward path, shouting and laughing in the glee of their hearts.

”About half-way they suddenly missed their companion, and ran back nearly a mile to find him; not succeeding, they thought that he had hidden himself behind some of the trees, and, in order to frighten them, was pretending to be lost; and after shouting his name at the top of their voices, and receiving no answer, they determined to defeat his trick, and ran home without him. They knew he was well acquainted with the road, that it was still broad day, and he could easily find his way home alone. When his father inquired for George, they said he was coming, and went to their respective cabins.

”Night came on and the lad did not return, and his parents began to feel alarmed at his absence. Mr. Brown went over to the neighbouring settlements, and made the lads repeat to him all they knew about his son. The boys described the part of the road where they first missed him; but they had felt no uneasiness about him, for they concluded that he had either run home before them, or had gone back to spend the night with the young Desnes, who had been very importunate for him to stay.

This account pacified the anxious father. Early the next morning he went to Desne's himself to bring home the boy, but, to his astonishment and grief, he had not been there.

”His mysterious disappearance gave rise to a thousand strange surmises.

The whole settlement turned out in search of the boy. His steps were traced off the road a few yards into the bush, and entirely disappeared at the foot of a large oak tree. The tree was lofty, and the branches so far from the ground, that it was almost impossible for any boy, una.s.sisted, to have raised himself to such a height. There was no track of any animal to be seen on the new fallen snow--no shred of garment, or stain of blood. That boy's fate will always remain a great mystery, for he was never found.”

”He must have been carried up the tree by a bear, and dragged down into the hollow trunk,” said I.

”If that had been the case, there would have been the track of the bear's feet in the snow. It does not, however, follow that the boy is dead, though it is more than probable. I knew of a case where two boys and a girl were sent into the woods by their mother to fetch home the cows. The children were lost. The parents mourned them for dead, for all search after them proved fruitless. At length, after seven years, the eldest son returned. The children had been overtaken and carried off by a party of Indians, who belonged to a tribe who inhabited the islands in Lake Huron, and who were out on a hunting expedition. They took them many hundred miles away from their forest home, and adopted them as their own. The girl, when she grew up, married one of the tribe; the boys followed the occupation of hunters and fishers, and, from their dress and appearance, might have pa.s.sed for aborigines of the forest.

The eldest boy, however, never forgot his own name, or the manner in which he had been separated from his parents. He distinctly remembered the towns.h.i.+p and the natural features of the locality, and took the first opportunity of making his escape, and travelling back to the home of his childhood.

”When he made himself known to his mother, who was a widow, but resided on the same spot, he was so dark and Indian-like that she could not believe that it was really her son, until he brought back to her mind a little incident that, forgotten by her, had never left his memory.

”'Mother, don't you remember saying to me on that afternoon, Ned, you need not look for the cows in the swamp,--they went off towards the big hill!'

”The delighted mother immediately caught him to her heart, exclaiming, 'You say truly,--you are my own, my long-lost son!'”

[This, and the two preceding chapters, were written for ”Roughing it in the Bush,” and were sent to England to make a part of that work, but came too late for insertion, which will account to the reader for their appearance here.]

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