“After indulging in the gloomiest reflections for nearly an hour,—during which time they both declared, that if a tree had then been in the act of falling on them, they would not have made any exertion to escape from its destructive stroke,—they began to look upon it as their duty to employ the means which Providence had placed within their reach for the preservation of that life which He who gave possessed the sole right of taking away; and they resolved once more to light a fire. This with the utmost difficulty they accomplished, for they were so much debilitated as to be scarcely able to exert themselves in collecting a sufficient quantity of fuel. As they consumed the last grain of their powder in this operation, they became susceptible but of one emotion,—that of indescribable horror, at the idea of being compelled, ere another night should elapse, to pay the debt of nature in a manner the most abhorrent to their feelings. They now conversed freely, but in a melancholy strain, on the method in which it was most likely that the frost would accomplish their destruction; and agreed in the opinion, that it would first attack the extremities of their bodies, and gradually proceed up towards the vitals, until their hearts’-blood should become congealed to ice. After this discourse they lay down, almost unmindful of the past and careless about the future, endeavouring to resign themselves to the fate which awaited them, whatever that might be.
“On the morning of the ninth day of their deplorable wanderings, they arose in a state of perfect apathy, and began to traverse the same lands which they had so reluctantly trodden six days before. In the evening they arrived at the hay-stack, where they left the dog. They found him still living, but unable to get upon his feet. He was reduced to a mere skeleton, and appeared to be in the agonies of death. The desire of life once more took its seat in their hearts, and they resolved to seek diligently for some sort of food. Their appetites were now so unconquerably ravenous, that they stripped the bark off an elm tree, and devoured large quantities of its inner rind. Scarcely had they eaten it, however, when they became exceedingly delirious, and were forced to lie down among the hay, where they remained until morning in an agony of despair.
By daylight, on the tenth morning, they were much better, and would have arisen, but, recollecting that they now possessed no materials for lighting a fire, they resolved to roll themselves up in the hay again, and quietly await the hour of dissolution, whenever it should arrive. Their resolution had but just been formed, when they heard the joyful sound of a cow-bell, which seemed to proceed from the opposite shore of the river. They arose immediately, and, on looking over the water, perceived to their infinite satisfaction a log-house recently erected, but yet without any appearance of inhabitants. For some time they felt inclined to doubt the evidence of their senses, and to consider the log-house as a creature of their disturbed imaginations. They recollected passing that way before without observing any building; but, on calling to mind the circumstance of seeing the boat and the canoe, they were convinced that all was reality—delightful, heart-cheering reality! They, therefore, resolved, by some means or other, to ford the river; and walking with feeble steps but bounding hearts along the bank, they soon discovered a crossing place. On arriving at the opposite shore, they were met by a white man and two Indians, who took them to the house of one Townsend, with whom they were well acquainted, and from whom they experienced every mark of attention which their wretched condition required. The heart of sensibility, if conversant with affliction, may form some estimate of their feelings at that moment. Every tender emotion, of which the soul of unlettered man is susceptible, may be supposed to have been in full exercise at that exhilarating interview. And if a single feeling had then any marked preponderance over another, it must have been that of gratitude—boundless, unspeakable gratitude, to the protecting power of an Almighty and gracious Deliverer.
“A few months previous to this event, Townsend had discovered a salt-spring on the banks of the river Sauble, and was at this time preparing to commence a manufactory of that article at a distance of nearly twenty miles from any human habitation. This embryo salt-manufactory was the building which Howay and Nowlan discovered after they heard the ringing of the cow-bell. It was a fortunate circumstance for them; for if this spot had been uninhabited, as it was a short time before, they must unquestionably have breathed their last on the banks of that unexplored river, which flows into Lake Huron at a point which is nearly 100 miles from any settlement. They were only thirty miles from the lake when interrupted by the swamp, in avoiding which they had inadvertently wandered back into the woods; and, on discovering their own tracks, returned unconsciously to the place where they had lain five nights before—a catastrophe, which, at the time, they lamented as a dire misfortune, but which afterwards, as you have seen, was the cause of their final deliverance.
“At Townsend’s house they were fifty miles from home, every yard of which they had to travel through the wilderness, but not without the aid of a blazed line to direct them. Nowlan’s feet were by this time in a very bad condition; and as he could not procure at that lonely dwelling the materials necessary to prevent mortification, which he was apprehensive would very soon take place, he and his companion set off early on the following morning. Mrs. Townsend kindly furnished them with provisions, and every thing necessary for their journey; and on the eve of the thirteenth day after their departure from the Talbot Settlement, they had once more the happiness of enjoying the comforts of their own firesides.—So much for the enviable pleasures of the American bear-chase!”
We add to this interesting account a few remarks on bears from a clever writer on Natural History.
“There are probably three or four different kinds of bears in North America; but neither the grizzly bear, the barren-ground bear, nor the great polar species, infest the countries with which we are more immediately occupied, although the last-named occasionally travels as far southward on the coast of Labrador as the fifty-fifth parallel. However, the black bear (Ursus niger Americanus) is well known in Canada, and is found wherever wooded districts occur, northwards to the shores of the Arctic Sea, southwards as far as Carolina, and westward across the continent to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Although this species is the least carnivorous of its kind, yet Dr. Richardson informs us that its strength and agility, combined with its great tenacity of life, render an attack upon it very hazardous, and its pursuit has always been considered by the rude inhabitants of the northern regions as a matter of the highest importance. They previously propitiate the whole race of bears by sundry ceremonies, and when an individual is slain they treat it with the utmost respect, address it as a near relation, and offer it a pipe to smoke. This veneration has no doubt arisen from their admiration of the skill and pertinacity with which bruin defends himself, and it is both curious and interesting to observe how the same feeling is exhibited by various tribes of people, speaking different languages, and inhabiting separate countries. We know from Regnard that the chase of the bear is regarded by the Laplanders as among the most solemn actions of their life; and Leems tells us that they never address that animal familiarly by its proper name of Guourhja, but call it “the old man in the fur cloak,” because it has the strength of ten men, and the sense of twelve. Bear-dances, in which its movements are imitated, are well known among the recreations of the North American Indians. Alexander Henry, who travelled in Canada and the adjoining territories in the years 1760-76, has furnished us with some valuable and curious remarks regarding the black bear of the New World. While on the banks of Lake Michigan, in the month of January, he observed the trunk of an enormous pine tree much torn, as if by the claws of one ascending and descending. He next noticed a large opening in the upper portion, near which the smaller branches were broken off. It was agreed that all his retainers should assemble together next morning, to assist in cutting down the tree, as from the absence of tracks upon the surrounding snow, it was presumed that a bear had for some time lain concealed within. The tree measured eighteen feet in circumference. Their axes being very light, they toiled all day, both men and women, like beavers, till the sun went down, by which time they had got only about half way through the trunk. They renewed the attack next morning, and about two in the afternoon the monarch of the wood reeled and fell. For several minutes after the first crash every thing remained quiescent, and it was feared their labour had been in vain; but just as Mr. Henry advanced towards the opening, out came an enormous bear, which he immediately shot. No sooner was the monster dead than his assailants approached, and all took the head in their hands, stroking and kissing it repeatedly, begging its pardon a thousand times, calling it their relation and grandmother, and requesting it to lay no blame on them since it was truly an Englishman who had put it to death. “If,” adds Mr. Henry, “it was I that killed their grandmother, they were not themselves behind hand in what remained to be performed.” The skin was taken off, and the fat found to be in several places six inches deep. When divided into two parts it formed a load for two persons, and the fleshy portions were as much as four men could carry. In all, the carcass must have exceeded 500 pounds weight. As soon as they had reached the lodge, the head was adorned with various trinkets, and laid upon a scaffold, with a large quantity of tobacco near the nose; and sundry other ceremonies were gone through in the course of the ensuing morning, after which they made a feast of the flesh. According to this author it is only the female bear that makes her lodging in the upper parts of trees,—an instinctive practice, by which her future young are secured from the attacks of wolves and other carnivorous animals. She brings forth in the winter season, and remains in her lodge till the cubs have acquired some strength. The male is said always to lodge in the ground, under the roots of trees.
In the latitude of 65° the winter sleep of the bear continues from the beginning of October to the first or second week of May; but on the northern shore of Lake Huron, the period is shorter by two or three months. In very severe winters, numbers of them have been observed entering the United States from the northward, all extremely lean, and accompanied by scarcely any females. Now it is well known that bears never retire to their winter dens until they have acquired a thick coating of fat, and that in remote districts they couple in September, when in good condition from feeding on the wild berries, which are at that time mature and abundant. The females then retire at once to their holes, concealing themselves so carefully that even “the lyncean eye of an Indian hunter very rarely detects them;” but the males, exhausted by the pursuit of their mates, require ten or twelve days to recover their lost fat. “An unusually early winter will, it is evident, operate most severely on the males, by preventing them from fattening a second time; hence their migrations at such times to more southerly districts.” It is an error, however, to suppose, as many do, that the black bears generally abandon the northern districts on the approach of winter, the quantity of skins, as Dr. Richardson observes, which are procured during that season in all parts of the fur countries being a sufficient proof to the contrary. The females bring forth about the beginning of January, and are supposed to carry for about fifteen or sixteen weeks. The number of cubs varies from one to five, according to the age of the mother, who begins to bear long before she has attained her full dimensions.