“This was rather a bad start, and as it turned out, seemed ominous of evil to the travellers. As they proceeded on their way, your grandfather stopped at various places to preach, administer the sacraments, and visit the sick; and, in many instances, the poor people received him gladly, being like sheep scattered without a shepherd in solitary places, far from the means of grace. In one house which he visited he was moved with compassion at the sight of the poor ailing mother of the family. ‘Ah sir!’ said she, ‘if any of us be sick or sore, there is no one to come near us, or to care for our souls.’
“I doubt not you have often heard the saying, ‘One half the world little knows how the other half lives;’ and, indeed, we have but little idea of the shifts to which thousands of our fellow men are put, and of the discomforts and troubles of their daily life. These people lived, for the most part, in wretched cabins, which swarmed with men, women, and children, while every nook and corner not thus occupied was filled with pigs, fowls, sheep, or dogs; and the thick smoke, or, as the people emphatically call it, ‘cruel steam,’ is most distressing to the eyesight, which suffers greatly in consequence.”
“But, why don’t they make chimneys, and let it out grandma?”
“They have a sort of rude chimney constructed of upright planks stuffed between with moss; but the danger of the fire is great; indeed it is always a necessary to have buckets of water at hand ready to throw upon the flames. In some places the chimneys were fortified against this danger by being lined all the way up with a coating of tin, which is found to last some years.”
“I should be very sorry to have to live with the Newfoundlanders if they have such houses as these; it seems more like what we read of the savages in their wigwams.”
“Well, George, your grandfather fell in with some of these people, a party of Indians from Canada; and, as it was late at night when he reached their wigwams, the guide begged to be allowed to pass the night with them. This they courteously permitted, and showed every hospitality to their unexpected guests. It was a curious sight, the whole party, men, women, and children, lying around the fire in the middle of the tent, upon spruce boughs, spread like feathers, to form the couch. The softest and cleanest deer skin was most courteously offered to the guest, and he passed the night very comfortably, truly thankful for the accommodation thus afforded him, and without which he must have suffered greatly from exposure to the weather, for the snow fell fast during several hours.”
At this point of her narrative Mrs. Ward rang for a candle, and desired the servant to bring her writing desk. “I shall find there,” she said, “the original MS. given me by my dear husband on his return from this journey. He wrote it amid much difficulty, for very frequently the ink would freeze in spite of all the precautions he took. Paper, too, was very scanty, and had it not been for boxes, containing a supply of this article, which had been washed on shore from different wrecks, he would have found it impossible to procure enough for the purpose. Anxious, however, to preserve a diary of each day’s proceedings, he persevered to the best of his power, and the result was this scroll, now discoloured by age, and some of the leaves a good deal torn, but the hand is clear and legible throughout. I think you will like to have me read you a short extract, giving an account of a very dangerous part of his expedition. But, in the first place, I should mention that, when travelling into the interior, he was obliged to walk in Indian rackets, or snow-shoes, a very difficult matter to one unaccustomed to their use.”
“Why difficult, grandma? I thought snow-shoes kept you from slipping, and made it much easier to walk in winter.”