I have not aimed at dramatic excellence in this book. Change of scene, incident and colour are the points which I had in view. There is not any sham sentiment in the book.
I have introduced a few passages, with little change from a small volume, entitled "The Story of Louis Riel." These passages in no way effect the current of my story; but as I thought that they had some merit, I had no compunction in diverting them to present uses. The most notable authors have done this sort of thing; and chief amongst them I may mention Thackeray.
I beg likewise to say a word with respect to the book known as "The Story of Louis Riel." That volume has been quoted as history; but it is largely fiction. There is no historic truth in the story therein written by me that Louis Riel conceived a passion for a beautiful girl named Marie; and that he put Thomas Scott to death, because the maiden gave her heart to that young white man. I have seen the story printed again and again as truth; but there is in it not one word of truth. This much I am glad to be able to say in justice to the memory of the miserable man, who has suffered a just penalty for his transgressions. I never intended that the work in question should be taken as history; and I should have made that point clear in an introduction, bearing my name, but that I was unwilling to take responsibility for the literary slovenliness, which was unavoidable through my haste in writing, and through Mr. D. A. Rose's hurry in publishing, the work. It occupied me only seventeen days; and I did not see my proofs.
Once more: one of the leading characters in that book, Mr. Charles Mair, is most unjustly treated. Him I held as one of the prime agents in the rebellion of 1869; but nothing could be further from the fact. His pen and his voice had always advocated justice and generosity towards the Indians and the Metis. As to his sentiments respecting the Indians, I need but refer to the drama of his "Tecumseh," which Canadians have received with such enthusiasm.
NANCY, THE LIGHT-KEEPER'S DAUGHTER.
BY EDMUND COLLINS.
"Yes, that is a picture of Grace Darling, but I can tell you a story of great bravery, too, which the world has never heard, about the daughter of a light-keeper who lived on the shore of one of our Canadian lakes." These words were spoken to me by an old Canadian fisherman in whose house I was spending a few nights while out for my autumn shooting.
"The girl's name was Nancy and her father was keeper of a small wooden light-house which stood chained to a ledge lying close to the harbour's mouth. The girl and her father lived alone upon the rock, but when the water was smooth they went every day to the mainland in their little boat. One day in the late autumn the keeper was obliged to make a journey to a distant town, and as he could not reach home again till some hours after dark, he left the lighting of the light to Nancy. The girl and a number of others went among the hills in the afternoon to pick bake-apples, and they remained till the sun was only "a hand high" in the west. Then the party turned their steps toward the coast.
"There will be a heavy gale to-night," the girl said, looking at the sky; for a mass of dark cloud resembling a ragged mountain had appeared up the coast and begun to roll rapidly toward the harbour. It is only those who live near the lakes, that know how suddenly sometimes a terrible hurricane will come out of a sky which was the most peaceful of azure only a few moments before. The tempest first moved along the level shore, casting an awful shadow upon the landscape for miles before it; then it smote the sea in its full fury.
To describe the tumult of sound as the gale drove onward would be impossible. A sad cry would swell out like the voice of a mother wailing for her child; then, pitched in a low, loud key, would come a noise like the howling of a soul condemned; while above the confusing din could be heard shrill whistles and cross pipings as if a host of mad spirits were signalling one another through the storm.