“This ice would not have borne us many hours hence; be ready for a leap into the canoe,” said Mr Norman. They reached the settlement, however, in safety. The inhabitants were divided in opinion as to whether the young Ashtons were lost or not; Philip was eager to reach home to settle the point. Mr Norman had sent for wheels for his vehicle, as the snow had melted too much to allow of runners. It was soon mounted, and away they rattled, bumped and thumped, Mr Norman singing—
“‘You and I, Billy, have often heard how folks are ruined and undone,
By overturns in carriages, by fires and thieves in London.’
“You see, my young friend, we must look out for haps and mishaps in the country as well as in town, on shore as well as at sea. Ignorant of religion as seamen are, they have a right feeling of a superintending Providence, which makes them feel as secure in the midst of the raging storm as they would driving about in the crowded city. The true believer in Christ is ready to die at any moment. This it is makes weak women courageous, while strong men show themselves to be cowards when instant death threatens them.”
Philip thought to himself, “How did I behave and feel when I was in the water this morning?—how when I found the hole in the ice, and thought that my brothers had fallen through?” The journey to the clearing, which across the ice would not have occupied twenty minutes, and not an hour by land had the snow been hard, took up more than two hours, with the risk of an overturn or break-down every yard, and such jolting as only well-knit limbs would endure.
At last the log-house appeared before them. “A very creditable edifice; really, Mr Philip, you were born a backwoodsman,” exclaimed Mr Norman. “I learned carpentering, and the principal rules for house-building, while my hands and eyes have been kept in exercise from my childhood,” was the answer. “That is the preparation required for all settlers in the bush, and which so large a number want and fail of success in consequence—or at all events waste precious years in gaining at a heavy cost the knowledge with which they ought to begin. I commenced the world without a sixpence, and have worked my way up to wealth and independence by the proper use of my hands and head. A settler, to rise, must have both. We welcome hands in the province. The possessor of a head benefits himself chiefly—not that we could get on without heads either.”
As they drove up to the door, D’Arcy was the first person to meet them. Philip’s heart sunk within him in spite of what Mr Norman had been saying. He hoped to have seen his brothers. “Where are the lads?” he exclaimed, eagerly. “All right, come in. I will take your horse round, Mr Norman,” said D’Arcy; and as the door opened, the boys’ voices were heard from their room. The rest of the family quickly came to the entrance to welcome them; and D’Arcy, coming back, explained what had occurred. He had seen the blaze of their burning hut, but not suspecting the cause, had gone across the lake with his canoe on runners, to ascertain if they had got home safe, not sorry for a good excuse for his visit. His appearance naturally caused great dismay and anxiety. He, however, afforded his friends some comfort, by assuring them that he believed the missing ones would be found on the island, towards which, supplied with a compass, he immediately set out, accompanied by Peter, and carrying provisions, cordials, and blankets. His satisfaction was considerable when laughing voices proceeded from the direction of the island, and he found the young gentlemen amusing themselves greatly by fishing for tommicods. Taking the best parts of the bear, he hurried back with his rescued friends to prevent Philip, should he arrive first, from setting off to meet them.
Philip’s long delay had again caused his family great anxiety. A happy party, with grateful hearts, assembled round Mr Ashton’s supper-table that evening—a table framed by his own hands, while most of the luxuries were supplied by the industry of those sitting round it. In another year there would not be an article of food on it which had not been produced on the farm, or procured from the lake, or surrounding woods. Not the least happy was Lawrence D’Arcy; and perhaps a glance at Miss Ashton’s countenance might have told the reason why.
“Well, Mr Norman, I am glad at length to see you here; and I can assure you, that your prognostications as to my liking the country, have been more than fulfilled,” said Mr Ashton. “I have never for an instant regretted coming out here; and I believe that I am happier, and that my wife and children are so, than we should have been had we lived on the life we had been proposing for ourselves in London, when I found myself deprived of the property which I thought my own.”
“God’s merciful Providence overruled your plan for your own and your children’s good,” said Mr Norman. “I know nothing practically of large cities, and little enough of towns; but from what I have read, I suspect that the temptations to evil in them are great, and the advantages comparatively small, when the chief object of man’s life is considered. No life can more conduce to virtue and a healthful state of body and mind than that which the industrious settler in the country leads out here. He has hard work and rough living, may be; but what is that, whether he be gentle or simple, compared to what he would have had to endure, had he without fortune remained idle at home? That is the question all settlers must ask themselves over and over again, whenever they get out of sorts with the Province.”