Lost in the Backwoods: A Tale of the Canadian Forest

by Catharine Parr Strickland Traill

The words of kindness and love need no interpretation; no book-learning is necessary to make them understood. The young, the old, the deaf, the dumb, the blind can read this universal language; its very silence is often more eloquent than words,—the gentle pressure of the hand, the half-echoed sigh, the look of sympathy will penetrate to the very heart, and unlock its hidden stores of human tenderness and love. The rock is smitten and the waters gush forth, a bright and living stream, to refresh and fertilize the thirsty soul.

The heart of the poor mourner was touched; she bowed down her head upon the hand that held her so kindly in its sisterly grasp, and wept soft, sweet, human tears full of grateful love, while she whispered, in her own low, plaintive voice, "My white sister, I kiss you in my heart; I will love the God of my white brothers, and be his child."

The two friends now busied themselves in preparing the evening meal: they found Louis and Hector had lighted up a charming blaze on the desolate hearth. A few branches of cedar, twisted together by Catharine, made a serviceable broom, with which she swept the floor, giving to the deserted dwelling a neat and comfortable aspect; some big stones were quickly rolled in, and made to answer for seats in the chimney-corner. The new-found fishing-line was soon put into requisition by Louis, and with very little delay a fine dish of black bass, broiled on the embers, was added to their store of dried venison and roasted bread-roots, which they found in abundance on a low spot on the island. Grapes and butter-nuts, which Hector cracked with a stone by way of a nutcracker, finished their sylvan meal. The boys then stretched themselves to sleep on the ground, with their feet, Indian fashion, to the fire; while Catharine and Indiana occupied the mossy couch which they had newly spread with fragrant cedar and hemlock boughs.

The next island that claimed their attention was Sugar-Maple Island, a fine, thickly-wooded island, rising with steep, rocky banks from the water. A beautiful object, but too densely wooded to admit of our party penetrating beyond a few yards of its shores.

The next island they named the Beaver, [Footnote: Commonly called Sheep Island, from some person having pastured a few sheep upon it some few years ago. I have taken the liberty of preserving the name, to which it bears an obvious resemblance, the nose of the Beaver lies towards the west, the tail to the east.] from its resemblance in shape to that animal. A fine, high, oval island beyond this they named Black Island, [Footnote: Black Island, the sixth from the head of the lake; an oval island, remarkable for its evergreens.] from its dark evergreens. The next was that which seemed most to excite the interest of their Indian guide, although but a small stony island, scantily clothed with trees, lower down the lake. This place she called Spoke Island, which means in the Indian tongue "a place for the dead." It is sometimes called Spirit Island; and here, in times past, the Indian people used to bury their dead. The island is now often the resort of parties of pleasure, who, from its being grassy and open, find it more available than those which are densely wooded. The young Mohawk regarded it with feelings of superstitious awe, and would not suffer Hector to land the canoe on its rocky shore.

"It is a place of spirits," she said; "the ghosts of my fathers will be angry if we go there." Even her young companions felt that they were upon sacred ground, and gazed with silent reverence upon the burial isle.

Strongly imbued with a love of the marvellous, which they had derived from their Highland origin, Indiana's respect for the spirits of her ancestors was regarded as most natural, and in silence, as if fearing to disturb the solemnity of the spot, they resumed their paddles, and after a while reached the mouth of the river Otonabee, which was divided into two separate channels by a long, low point of swampy land, covered with stunted, mossy bushes and trees, rushes, driftwood, and aquatic plants. Indiana told them this river flowed from the north, and that it was many days' journey up to the lakes. To illustrate its course, she drew with her paddle a long line, with sundry curves and broader spaces, some longer, some smaller, with bays and inlets, which she gave them to understand were the chain of lakes that she spoke of. There were beautiful hunting-grounds on the borders of these lakes, and many fine waterfalls and rocky islands; she had been taken up to these waters during the time of her captivity. The Ojebwas, she said, were a branch of the great Chippewa nation, who owned much land and great waters thereabouts.

Compared with the creeks and streams that they had seen hitherto, the Otonabee appeared a majestic river, and an object of great admiration and curiosity, for it seemed to them as if it were the highroad leading up to an unknown, far-off land,—a land of dark, mysterious, impenetrable forests,—flowing on, flowing on, in lonely majesty, reflecting on its tranquil bosom the blue sky, the dark pines and gray cedars, the pure ivory-white water-lily, and every passing shadow of bird or leaf that flitted across its surface, so quiet was the onward flow of its waters.

A few brilliant leaves yet clung to the soft maples and crimson-tinted oaks, but the glory of the forest had departed; the silent fall of many a sere and yellow leaf told of the death of summer and of winter's coming reign. Yet the air was wrapped in a deceitful stillness; no breath of wind moved the trees or dimpled the water. Bright wreaths of scarlet berries and wild grapes hung in festoons among the faded foliage. The silence of the forest was unbroken, save by the quick tapping of the little midland woodpecker or the shrill scream of the blue jay, the whirring sound of the large white-and-gray duck (called by the frequenters of these lonely waters the whistlewing) as its wings swept the waters in its flight, or the light dripping of the paddle,—so still, so quiet was the scene.

As the day was now far advanced, the Indian girl advised them either to encamp for the night on the river-bank or to use all speed in returning. She seemed to view the aspect of the heavens with some anxiety. Vast volumes of light, copper-tinted clouds were rising; the sun, seen through its hazy veil, looked red and dim; and a hot, sultry air, unrelieved by a breath of refreshing wind, oppressed our young voyagers. And though the same coppery clouds and red sun had been seen for several successive days, a sort of instinctive feeling prompted the desire in all to return, and, after a few minutes' rest and refreshment, they turned their little bark towards the lake; and it was well that they did so. By the time they had reached the middle of the lake, the stillness of the air was rapidly changing; the rose-tinted clouds, that had lain so long piled upon each other in mountainous ridges, began to move upwards, at first slowly, then with rapidly accelerated motion. There was a hollow moaning in the pine-tops; and by fits a gusty breeze swept the surface of the water, raising it into rough, short, white-crested ridges.