The conduct of our man Jacob, during this trying period, was marked with the greatest kindness and consideration. On the days that his master was confined to his bed with the fever, he used to place a vessel of cold water and a cup by his bedside, and put his honest English face in at my door to know if he could make a cup of tea, or toast a bit of bread for the mistress, before he went into the field.
Katie was indebted to him for all meals. He baked, and cooked, and churned, milked the cows, and made up the butter, as well and as carefully as the best female servant could have done. As to poor John Monanghan, he was down with fever in the shanty, where four other men were all ill with the same terrible complaint.
I was obliged to leave my bed and endeavour to attend to the wants of my young family long before I was really able. When I made my first attempt to reach the parlour I was so weak, that, at every step, I felt as if I should pitch forward to the ground, which seemed to undulate beneath my feet like the floor of a cabin in a storm at sea. My husband continued to suffer for many weeks with the ague; and when he was convalescent, all the children, even the poor babe, were seized with it, nor did it leave us until late in the spring of 1835.
THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL
Rise, Mary! meet me on the shore,
And tell our tale of sorrow o'er;
There must we meet to part no more—
Rise, Mary, rise!
Come, dearest, come! tho' all in vain;
Once more beside yon summer main
We'll plight our hopeless vows again—
Unclose thine eyes.
My bark amidst the surge is toss'd,
I go, by evil fortunes cross'd,
My earthly hopes for ever lost—
Love's dearest prize.
But when thy hand is clasp'd in mine,
I'll laugh at fortune, nor repine;
In life, in death, for ever thine—
Then check these sighs.
They move a bosom steel'd to bear
Its own unwonted load of care,
That will not bend beneath despair—
Rise, dearest, rise.
Life's but a troubled dream at best;
There comes a time when grief shall rest,
Kind, faithful hearts shall yet be bless'd
'Neath brighter skies!
CHAPTER XVIII — A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
Oh Nature! in thy ever-varying face,
By rocky shore, or 'neath the forest tree,
What love divine, what matchless skill, I trace!
My full warm heart responsive thrills to thee.
Yea, in my throbbing bosom's inmost core,
Thou reign'st supreme; and, in thy sternest mood,
Thy votary bends in rapture to adore
The Mighty Maker, who pronounced thee good.
Thy broad, majestic brow still bears His seal;
And when I cease to love, oh, may I cease to feel.
My husband had long promised me a trip to Stony Lake, and in the summer of 1835, before the harvest commenced, he gave Mr. Y——, who kept the mill at the rapids below Clear Lake, notice of our intention, and the worthy old man and his family made due preparation for our reception. The little girls were to accompany us.