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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont filmdes d partir de Tangle sup6rieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la m^thode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 A DRAMA. AND OTHER POEMS y UMl SICiB, m ilim flF 181? BY SARAH ANNE CURZON. and te'ringTeTaleroT ttlZrotSld td 1 ' t'"?^' l''''^ "^^'^'"^ ^^^^^ ^°"^^" ^^^^^ C. BLACKETT ROBINSON, 5 JORDAN STREET. 1887. 16 713 6 Ps j^y^"^ 5 / ' ^3 I. 3 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven, by Sarah Anne Ci;r2on, in the Office of the Minister of A.sriculture. Uo all true CanaMans, OF WHATEVER DERIVATION, THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. PREFACE, The drama of "Laura Secord " was written to rescue from obli"ion the name of a brave woman, and set it in its proper place among the heroes of Canadian history. During the first few years of her residence in Canada the author was often astonished to hear it remarked, no less among educated than uneducated Canadians, that " Canada has no history ; " and yet on every hand stories were current of the achievements of the pioneers, and the hard- ships endured and overcome by the United Empire Loyalists. Remembering that, as soon as she had conquered the merest rudiments of reading and grammar at school, she was set to learn English History, and so become acquainted with the past of her country, it seemed to the writer that there was something lacking in a course oi teaching that could leave Canadians to think that their country had no historical past. Determined to seek out for herself the facts of the ca.se, it was with feelings of the deepest interest that she read such of the contributions to the newspaper press as came ir her way during the debate with regard to the pensions asked of Government for the surviving veterans of 1812 in 1873-4. Among these was incidentally given the story of Mrs. Secord 's heroic deed in warning Fitzgibbon. Yet it could not pass without observation that, while the heroism of the men of that date was dwelt upon with warm appreciation and much urgency as to their deserts, Mrs. Secord, as being a woman, shared in nothing more tangible than an approving record. The story, to a woman's mind, was full of pathos, and, though barren of great incidents, was not without a due richness of colouring if looked at by appreciative eyes. Nor were the results of Laura Secord's brave deed insignificant. Had the Americans carried Beaver Dams at that juncture, the whole peninsula was before them — all its supplies, all its means of communication with other parts of the Province. And Canada — Upper Canada, at least — would have been in the hands of the invaders until, by a struggle too severe to be contemplated calmly, they had been driven forth. To save from the sword is surely as great a deed as to save with the sword; and this Laura Secord did, at an expense of nerve and muscle fully equal to any that are recorded of the warrior. To set her on such a pedestal of equality; to inspire other hearts with loyal bravery such as hers; to write her name on the roll of Canadian heroes, inspired the poem that bears her name. But the tribute to her memory would not be complete were it to omit an appeal to Canadians, especially to the inhabitants of this Province, who, in their prosperity owe to her so much, to do their part, and write her name in enduring marble upon the spot where she lies buried. PREFACE. Nor does it seem asking more than a graceful act from the Government of the Dominion — a Dominion which, but for her, might never have been — to do its share in acknowledgment. One of her daughters still lives, and if she attain to her mother's age has yet nearly a decade before her. The drama of " Laura Secord " was written in 1H76, and the ballad a year later, but, owing to the inertness of Canadian interest in Canadian literature at that date, could not be published. It is hoped that a better time has at length dawned. S. A. CURZON. TOKONTO, 1887. I t CONTENTS. LAURA SECORD, THK HEROINE OF THE WAR OF l8l2 A BALLAD OF l8l2 . , . . THE queen's jubilee .... THE HERO OF ST. HELEN's ISLAND OUR VETERANS OF 1812. (a PLEA) . LOVAI, ...... ON QUEENSTON HEIGHTS NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR . THE SONG OF THE EMIGRANT . TO THE INDIAN SUMMER IN JUNE LIVINGSTONE. IN MEMORIAM THE QUEFN AND THE CRIMEAN SOLDIERS TO A CHILD ..... HOME ....... LOST WITH HIS BOAT .... LIFE IN DEATH INVOCATION TO RAIN .... kEMONSTRANCE WITH "REMONSTRANCE" THE ABSENT ONES .... AWAY ....... POOR JOE ■J • • • • « FRAGMENTS ..... THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE. (A COMEDV) PAGE • . II . 69 • . 84 86 • • 91 92 • • 93 95 • • 97 . 98 . 100 lOI . 103 ■ 105 . 106 . 107 . 109 no • 113 115 ■ 117 120 . 121 , 122 FABLES: ORIGINAL AND FROM THE FRENCH. THE CHOICE . INSINCERITY THE TWO TREES FABLE AND TRUTH . 141 • H3 Le May. 1 44 • Florian. 1 46 If CONTENTS. THR CALIPH .... THE BLIND MAN AND TH? PARALYTIC . DEATH . THE HOUSE 0I< CAKDS .... THE BULLFINCH AND THE RAVEN THE WASP AND THE BEE TRANSLATIONS. IN MEMORY OF THE HEROES OF 1760 THE SONG OF THE CANADIAN VOLTIGEURS THE LEGEND OF THE EARTH . THE EMIGRANT MOUNTAINEER FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADES" . VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE I'AGE Florian. 1 47 " 149 151 152 " 154 " ^55 Lc May. 1 59 162 yean Ramcau. 1 64 Chateaubriand. 1 68 Hugo. 170 Desportes. ijl NOTES . APPENDICES ^75 201 MEMOIR OF MRS, SECORD, It is at all times an amiable and honourable sentiment that leads us to enquire into the antev-fidents of those who, by the greatness of their virtues have added value to the records of human history. Whether such inquiry increases our estimation of such value or no*, it must always be instructive, and therefore inspir" ig. Under this impression I have sought on every hand lo learn all that co\..A be gathered of the history of one of Canada's purest patriots. As Dr. liyeison aptly says in his U. E. Loyalists and their Times, " the period of the U. E. Loyalists was one of doing, not recording," therefore little beyond tradi.'on has conserved anything of all that we would now like to know of the heroism, the bravery, the endurance, the trials of that bold army of men and women, who, having laid strong ban*-' in the primeval forest, dug wide and deep the foundations of a nation whc ■ ness is yet to come. In such a light the simple records that follow will L^ .uractive. Laura Secord came of loyal blood. She waa the daughter of Mr, Thomas Ingersoll, the founder of the town of Ingersoll, and his wife Sarah, the sister of General John Whiting, of (ireat Barrington, Berkshire County, Mass. At the close of the War of 1776, Mr. Ingersoll came to Canada on the invitation of Governor Simcoe, an old friend of the family, and founded a settlement on the banks of the Thames in Oxford County. On the change of government, Mr. Ingersoll and his struggling settlement of eighty or ninety families found their prospects blightetl and their future imperilled; Mr. Ingersoll therefore saw it necessary to remove to Little York, and shortly afterward settled in the township of Etobicoke. There he resided until some time after the War of 1812-14, when he returned with his family to Oxford County. Here he died, but left behind him worthy successors of his honour- able name in his two sons, Charles and James . Charles Ingersoll, with that active loyalty and heroic energy which alike characterized hir patriotic sister, Mrs. Secord, held prominent positions in the gift of the Govern-^ent and of the people, and was also a highly respected merchant and traucr. James Ingersoll, though of a more retiring disposition than his brother, was a prominent figure in Western Canada for many years. He was a magis- trate of high repute, and occupied a foremost position in the militia, in which he held the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel at the time of his death. This event took place on the gth August, i885, at which date he had been Registrar for the County of Oxford fifty-two years. That Mrs. Secord should be brave, ready, prompt in action, and fervent 11. MEMOIK OF MRS. SECORU. in patriotism is not surprising, scjing that all the events of her childhood and youth were blended with those of the settlement of Upper Canada by the U. E. Loyalists, in whose ranks her family held so honourable a position, and whose character and sentiments were at all times to be depended upon. The family of Secord, of which she became so distinguished a member, was also a notable one Family documents exist which show that in the reign of Louis the Tenth of France a certain Marquis D'Secor was a Marshal of His Majesty's Household. A son of this Marquis embraced the Protestant religion, as did younger branches of the family. During the persecution of the Huguenots many of them suffered at the stake, and the family estates, situated at La Kochelle, were confiscated. The survivors escaped the massacre of St. Bartholomew by flight to England along with many other noble families, among whom were the Comte de Puys, the Baudeaux, and a Holland family, the Van Cortlandts. Eventually five brothers emigrated to America where they settled in New Jersey, purchasing large tracts of land, founding New Kochelle and engaging in lumbering. On the breaking out of the Revolutionary War the family divided, the Loyalists changing their patronym to Secord by placing the pre- fix " d " at the end of their name. These brothers after, as King's men, losing, in common with all the Loyalists, their property and estates, emigf-ated to New Brunswick, again engaging in lumbering and milling operations, and there certain of their descendants are to be found to-day. Some of these, and their sons, again removed to Canada West, where one of them, commonly called " Deaf John Secord," who married Miss Wartman, of Kingston, was known all along the coast from St. John to Quebec for his hospitalities. Among those who settled in the Niagara district were Stephen Secord, the miller of St. David's, Major David Secord, after whom the villrge was named, and James Secord, the husband of the heroine of 1812. Stephen Secord died bejfore the War of 1812, leavinga widow and a family of seven sons. Of Major David Secord, the only record I have been able to procure is to be found in A History of the Late War between Great Britain and the United States of America, by David Thompson, late of the Royal Scots, as quoted tor me by the kind courtesy of Miss Louisa Murray, of Stamford. It is as follows : " The Second Lincoln Militia, under Major David Secord, distinguished them- selves in this action [the Battle of Chippewa] by feits of genuine bravery and heroism, stimulated by the example of their gallant leader, which are seldom surpassed even by the most experienced veterans. Their loss was propor- tionate with that of the regular army." At the outbreak of the War of 1812, Mr. James Secord was living at Queenston, where he had a lumber mill and stores. He held the rank of Captain in the Lincoln Militia until close on the American invasion, but resigned in dudgeon al some action of his superior officer, and thus it is that in the relation of Mrs. Secord's heroic deed he is not designated by any rank. At the first call to arms, however, Mr. Secord at once offered his services, MEMOIR OK MRS. SKCORD. 111. which were gladly accepted, and he was present at the Battle of Queenston Heights. Here he was severely wounded in the leg and shoulder, and lay on the field as one dead, until rescued by his brave wife. He never fully recovered from his wounds, and received an acknowledgment of his voluntary services to the Government in the appointment to the post of Collector of Customs at the Port of Chippewa, which he held until his death in 184 1. The married life of Mr. and Mrs. Secord was a most happy one. Their third daughter, Mrs. Harriet Smith, who still survives, a cheerful and vivacious lady of eighty-six, says that her father and mother were most devoted to each other, and lived in the closest mutual affection. At the date of the Battle of Queenston Heights, the family consisted of four daughters and one son : Mary — with whom the great Tecumseh is said to have been in love— wh( was married to Dr. Trumbull, Staff-surgeon to the 37th Regiment, and died in Jamaica; Charlotte, " the belle of Canada," who died during a visit to Ireland; Harriet —Mrs. Smith— who still survives and lives ill great retirement with her eldest daughter at Guelph ; and Appolonia, who died at the early age of eighteen. Charles, the only son, lived at Newark, and his surviving children are Mr. James B. Secord, of Niagara, and Alicia, Mrs. Isaac Cockburn, of Gravenhurst. Two daughters were born to Mr. and Mrs. Secord subsequent to the war, Hannah, who was married to Mr. Carthew, of Guelph, and died in 18S4, leaving several sons, and Laura, who was married to Dr, Clarke, of I'al- merston, and died young, leaving one daughter, Laura. Mrs. Smith relates that she very well remembers her mother setting off for St. David's, ostensibly to see her brother Charles, who lay sick at the mill, and her father's ill-concealed agitation during that trying day. What must the night have been to him ? She also relates that during the short occupation of Queenston by the invaders, their soldiery were very tyrannical, entering the houses and stores to look for money and help themselves to plunder, and even destroying the bedding, by ripping it up with their swords and bayonets, in the search. Mrs. Secord who had a store of Spanish doubloons, heirlooms, saved them by throwing them into a cauldron of water which hung on a crane over a blazing fire. In this she unconsciously emulated the ready wit of one of her husband's Huguenot progenitors, a lady, who during the persecution that followed the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, at a period of domiciliary search for incriminating proofs of unorthodoxy, is said to have thrown a copy of the Bible— a doubly precious treasure in those days— into a cluini of milk from whence it was afterwards rescued little the worse, thanks to heavy binding and strong clasps. Envy havmg sent a shaft at even so warm and patriotic a breast as that of Mrs. Secord, Col. Fitzgibbor sent her a certificate, dated only a short time before his death, vouching to the facts of the heroic deed. It was evidently one of the cruel necessities of this hard life. The certificate runs as follows : ''^ IV. MKMOIR OF MRS. SECORD. Fitzgibbon's Certificate. " I do hereby certify that Mrs. Secord, the wife of James Secord, of Chip- pewa, Esq., did, in the month of June, 1813, walk from her house in the village of St. David's to Decamp's house in Thorold, by a circuitous route of about twenty miles, partly through the woods, to acquaint me that the enemy intended to attempt by surprise to capture a detachment of the 49th Regiment, then under my command ; she having obtained such knowledge from good authority, as the event proved. Mrs. Secord was a person of slight and delicate frame ; and made the effort in weather excessively warm, and I dreaded at the time that she must suffer m health in consequence of fatigue and anxiety, she having been exposed to danger from the enemy, through whose line of communication she had to pass. The attempt was made on my detachment by the enemy, and his detachment, consisting of upwards of 500 men, with a field-piece and fifty dragoons, was captured in consequence. I write this certificate in a moment of much hurry and from memory, and it is, therefore, thus brief. "(Signed) James Fitzgihbon, "Formerly Lieutenant in the i\gtli Regiment," It is well to consider this great achievement of Mrs. Secord carefully, that we may be the better able to realize the greatness of the feat. To assist in so doing, it will not be amiss to quote the following, from Coffin's Chron- icles of the War, bearing on the prudential reasons of Proctor's retreat at Moravian Town. "But whether for advance or for retreat, the by-paths of the forest intermediate were such as the macadamized and locomotive imagination of the present day cannot encompass. A backwoodsman, laden with his axe, wading here, ploutering there, stumbling over rotted trees, protruding stumps, a bit of half-submerged corduroy road for one short space, then an adhesive clay bank, then a mile or two or more of black muck swamp, may, possibly, — clay-clogged and footsore, and with much pain in the small of his back. — find himself at sundown at the foot of a hemlock or cedar, with a fire at his feet, having done manfully about ten miles for his days work." This was written of a time of year when the fall rains predict an approaching winter. Mrs. Secord's exploit was made on the 23rd of June, a time when the early summer rains that set the fruit and consecrate an abundant harvest with their blessing, nevertheless make clay banks slippery, and streams swift, and of these latter the whole Niagara district was full. Many have now been diverted and some dried up. I am happy to be able to give my readers the heroine's own simple account of her journey, as furnished me by the courtesy of Mr. Benson J. Lossing, author of the " Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812," to whom the aged lady in 1862 recounted it in a letter (given in a note in Mr. Lossing's book), the historian, on his visit to Chippewa in i860, having failed to see her. She was then eight; five years of age. MEMOIR OF MRS. SECORD. V. " Dear Sir, — I will tell you the story in a few words. "After going to St. David's and the recovery of Mr. Secord, we returned again to Queenston, where my courage again was much tried. It was there I gained the secret plan laid to capture Captain Fitzgibbon and his party. 1 was determined, if possible, to save them. I had much dititiculty in getting through the American guards. They were ten miles out in the country.' When I came to a field belonging to a Mr. De Con, in the neighbourhood of the Beaver Dams, I then had walked nineteen miles. By that time daylight had left me. I yet had a swift stream of water (Twelve-mile Creek) to cross over on an old fallen tree, and to climb a high hill, which fatigued me very much. " Before I arrived at the encampment of the Indians, as I approached they all arose with one of their war yells, which, indeed, awed me. You may imagine what my feelings were to behold so many savages. With forced courage I went to one of the chiefs, told him I had great news for his com- mander, and that he must take me to him or they would all be lost. He did not understand me, but said, 'Woman! What does woman want here?' The scene by moonlight to some n^ight have been grand, but to a weak woman certainly terrifying. With difficulty I got one of the chiefs to go ivith me to their commander. With the intelligence I gave him he formed his plans and saved his country. I have ever found the brave and noble Colonel Fitzgibbon a friend to me. May he prosper in the world to come as he has done in this. Laura Secord. "Chippewa, U.C, Feb. i8, 1861." Mr. Lossing further adds in his letter to me: " When, in the summer of i860, the Prince of Wales visited Queenston the veteran soldiers of the Canada side of the Niagara frontier signed an address to his Royal Highness ; Mrs. Secord claimed the privilege of signing it. ' Wherefore ? ' was asked. She told her story, and it was allowed that she *The American sentries were out ten miles into the country; that is, at any point com- manding;; a possible line of communication within a radius of ten miles from Fort George, Mrs. Secord might come upon an American sentry. The deep woods, therefore, were her only security. These she must thread to the best of her ability, with what knowledge she might possess of the woodman's craft, for even a blazed path was not safe. And by this means she must get out of .\merican cover and into British lines. To do this she must take a most circuitous route, as she tells us, all round " by Twelve-mile Creek," whose port is St. Catharines, climbing the ridge that is now cut through by the Welland Canal, and thus doubling upon what would have been the straight route, and coming on Fitzgibbon from the back, from the way of his supports, for Major de Haren lay at Twelve-mile Creek, but not within several miles of where the heroine crossed it. And it was dark, and within a few hours of the intended surprise when she reached it. To go to De Haren, even though it might have been nearer at that point— it may not have been so, however — was a greater risk to Fitzgibbon, wliose safety she was labouring to secure, than to send him aid which might only reach him after the event. Forgetting her exhaustion she proceeds, fulfils her errand, and saves her country. A nd shall that country let her memory die ? I I VI. MEMOIR OF MRS. SKCORD. eminently deserved a place among the signers. Her story was repeated to the Prince. He was greatly interested, and learning that the heroine had not much of this world's goods-, sent her .$500 soon after his return home, in attestation of his appreciation of her patriotism." Her sole surviving daughter at this date, says the gift was carried to her mother by ten gentlemen who had formed part of the Prince's suite. A correspondent at Drummondville, to whom I am indebted for several valuable particulars, says: " Mrs. Laura Secord is remembered here as a fine, tall, strong woman. Strotig, too, in mind, purpose, determination, and yet womanly and maternal withal. She is spoken of as indeed a brave woman, of strong patriotism and courage. "The difficulties and dangers then, were those of a new, uncleared, pathless country increased by lurking foes, and by wandering, untaught Indians. " In connection with her chief act of heroism the following anecdote has been told me: — Three American soldiers called at her log hou.se at Queens- ton to ask for water. One of them said, ' You have a nice place heiJe, missis, when we come for good to this country we'll divide the land, and I'll take this here for my share.' Mrs. Secord was so nettled by the thoughts expressed that although the men were civil and respectful, she replied sharply, ' You scoundrel you, all you'll ever get here will be six feet of earth !' "When they were gone her heart reproached her for her heat, because the men had not molested her nor her property." (Yet her indignation was righteous, since they were invaders in the worst sense of the term, having no lawful cause for their invasion.) "Two days after two of the men returned. They said to Mrs. Secord, ' You were right about the six feet of earth, missis ! ' The third man had been killed." In speaking of the heroine, Mr. James B. Secord, of Niagara, says in a letter to me, " My grandmother was of a modest disposition, and did not care to have her exploit mentioned, as she did not think she had done any thing extraordinary. She was the very last one to mention the affair, and unless asked would never say any thing about it." This noble-minded and heroic woman died in 1868, aged ninety-three years. She lies in Drummondville Churchyard, by the side of the husband she loved so well. Nothing but a simple headstone, half defaced, marks the place where the sacred ashes lie. But surely we who enjoy the happiness she so largely secured for us, we who have known how to honour Brock and Brant, will also know how to honour Tecumseh and Laura Skcord; the herome as well as the heroes of our Province — of our common Dominion — and will no longer delay to do it, lest Time should snatch the happy opportunity from us. S. A, C. Toronto, ^th August, 1887. i'i MEMOIR OF MRS. SECORD. Vll. Note.— The headstone of Laura Secord o three feet high, and eighteen inches wide, and has the following : HERE RESTS LAURA, BELOVED WIFE OF JAMES SECORD, Died, Oct. 17, 1868. Aged gj years. The headstone of her husband has the following : In Memory of JAMES SECORD, Senr., Collector of Customs, Who departed this life on the 22nd day of Feb., 1841, In the 6Sth year of his age. Universally and deservedly lamented as a sincere Friend, a kind and indulgent Parent, and an affectionate Husband. r r I LAURA SECORD: THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF i8. V '~- 1 i \ I !i i' DRAMATIS PERSON.E. I! p^: i U - i in British : Laura Skcord, the Heroine, wife o/ James Secord. Elizabeth Secord, toidow of Stephen Secord, the Miller at St. David's. Marv, a ^irl of thirteen, daughter w/ James and Laura Secord. Charlotte, her sister. Harriet, her sist^'r. Baijette, the maid ut the Mill. A Woman, the keeper of a roadside tavern at Beaver Dams. James Secord, a wounded militia officer, home on sick leave, husband of Laura Secord. Lieutenant Fitzgibbo;-, a British officer holding tlic post at Beaver Dams. Major De Haren, a British officer lying at St. Catharines ivith his command. Colonel Thomas Clarke, A Canadian militia officer. Sergeant George Mosier, an old Pensioner, and U. E. Loyalist of :776- MisHE-MO-QUA (The Great Bear), a Mohaivk Chief. John Penn, a farmer ( Harvey' s Quaker). George Jarvis, a Cadet of the 4gth Regiment. A Sergeant of the 8th Regiment. A Sergeant of the 4gth Regiment. James Cummings, a Corporal of Militia. Roaring Bill, a Private in the ^gth Regiment. Jack, a Private in the ^Qth Regiment. Other Soldiers of the 49th, 8th, or King's Own, and 104th Regiments. Militiamen, Canadians. Indians, British Allies, chiefly Mohaivks. Tom, a child of six, son of the Widow Secord. Archy, a little Boy at St. David's Mill. Charles, a hoy of four, son 0/ James and Laur^ Secord. Other Boys of various ages from eight to sixteen. A)nerican: Colonel Bcerstler, a)i American officer. Captain McDowell, an American officer. Pete and Flos, slaves. A large body of American soldiers, infantry, dragoons and artillerymen. I II •avid's. Hind of Dams. nmand. \en. .% LAURA SECORD: THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF 1812. ACT i. Scene i.—Queciiston. Afnnnhouse. John Penn, a Quaker, is seated on a chau tilled a,^nunst the wall. Mr Secord Ifm'^^f,! ; . ' ' """^'" " ''-'^'"^-/'-V near the lounge. Charlie. 5//. /5 ^H/ „.. Charlotte, a girl of twelve, is scaled on a stool set a little I' rear of the eoueh ; she has a lesson-hook in her hand. Harriet, a .nrl of ten oeeupu-s a stool near her sister, and has a slate on her lap. All are Intemng intently to the Quaker, who is speaking. Quaker. The midnight sky, set thick with shining points, Hung watchnigly, while from a band of gloom I hat belted in the gloomier woods, stole forth P oreshortened forms of grosser shade, all barred . With lines of denser blackness, dexter-borne. Rank after rank, they came, out of the dark, So silently no pebble crunched beneath Their feet more sharp than did a woodchuck stir. And so came on the foe all stealthily. And found their guns a-limber, fires ablaze, And men in calm repose. ^, With bay 'nets fixed I he section in advance fell on the camp And killed the first two sentries, whose sharp cries Alarmed a third, who fired, and firing, fled Ihis roused the guard, but " Forward! " was the word And on we rushed, slaying full many a man Who woke not in this world. The 'larum given. 4 r 1 12 LAURA SKCORD, ) I,' A-sudden rose such hubbub and confusion As is made by belching earthcjuake. Waked from sleep, Men stumbled over men, and anjj^ry cries Resounded. Surprised, yet blenciiing not, Muskets were seized and siiots at random fired E'en as they fled. Yet rallied they when ours, ' At word from Harvey, fell into line. And stood, right 'mid the fires, to flint their locks — An awful moment ! — As amid raging storms the warring heaven Falls sudden silent, and concentrates force To launch some scathing bolt upon the earth. So hung the foe, hid in portentous gloom, While in the hind light ours halted. Quick, Red volcanic fire burst from their lines And mowed us where we stood ! Full many a trembling hand that set a flint Fell lifeless ere it clicked: yet silent all — Save groans of wounded — till our rods struck home ; Then, flashing fire for fire, forward we rushed x\nd scattered them like chaff before the wind. The King's Own turned their left ; the Forty-ninth, At point of bay'net, pushed the charge, and took Their guns, they fighting valiantly, but wild. Having no rallying point, their leaders both Lying the while all snug at Jemmy Gap's. And so the men gave in at last, and fled, And Stony Creek was ours. Mr. Secord. Brave Harvey ! Gallantly planned and carried. The stroke is good, the consequences better. Cooped as he is in George, the foe will lack His forage, and perforce must eat his stores ; For Yeo holds the lake, and on the land His range is scarce beyond his guns. And more, He is the less by these of men to move On salient points, and long as we hold firm ^ THF. UKROINE C' l8l2. 13 At Erie, Burlinf,^ton, and Stony Creek, He's like the wretched bird, he "can't {,'et out." Mrs Sccord. You speak, friend Penn, as if you saw the fight, Mot hk(? a suiiple hearer of the news. Quaker. Why, so I iVu\. Mrs. Secorcl You did ! Pray tell us how it was • For ever have I heard that Quakers shunned The sight of blood. Quaker. None more than I. Yet innate forces sometimes :ell o'er use Against our will. But this was how it happed ; Thou seest. Mistress Secord, I'd a load Of sound potatoes, that I thought to take To Vincent's camp, but on the way I met A Britisli officer, who challenged me ; saith he " Friend, whither bound ? " " Up to the Heights," say I, To sell my wares." - Better," saith he, " Go to tiie Yankee camp ; they'll pay a price Just double ours, for we are short of cash." " Fll risk the pay," say I, " for British troops ; Nay, if we're poor, I can afford the load, And p'rhaps another, for my coun;ry's good." " And say'st thou so, my Quaker ! Yet," saith he " I hear you Quakers will not strike a blow To guard your country's rights, nor yet your own " " No, but we'll hold the stakes," cried I. He laughed " Can't you do more, my friend ? " quoth he, " I need A closer knowledge of the Yankee camp : How strong it is, and how it lies. A brush Is imminent, and one must win, you know Shall they?" J' v His manner was so earnest that, before I knew, I cried, " Not if I know it, man ' " With a bright smile he answered me, " There spoke A Briton." Then he directed me How I might sell my load, what I should mark i «!i i 14 LAURA SECORD, And wlien report to him my observations. So, after dusk, I met him once again, And told him all 1 knew. It pleased him much. Warmly he shook my hand. " 1 am," saith he, " Lieutenant-Colonel Harvey. Should it hap That 1 can ever serve you, let me know." Mrs. Secord. And then you stayed to see the end of it ? Qitnkcr. Mistress, I did. Somewhat aj^ainst my creed, I freel}- own ; ■ x what should I, a Quaker, Eer have to do with soldiers, men of blood ! I mean no slight to 3'ou, James. Mr. Secord (laugJiing). No, no ! go on. Quaker. Well, when I thought how tired poor Dobbin was, How late the hour, and that 'twould be a week Before I'd hear how Harvey spctl that night, I thought I'd st^y and see the matter out ; The more, because I kind o' felt as if Whatever happed I'd had a hand in it. Mrs. Secord. And pray where did you hide ? for hide you must. So near the Yankee lines. Quaker. It wasn't hard to do; I knew the ground, Bemg a hired boy on that very farm. Now Jemmy Gap's. There was an elm, where once I used to sit and watch for chipmunks, that I clomb, And from its sliade could see the Yankee camp. Its straggling line, its fires, its careless watch ; And from the first I knew the fight was ours. If Harvey struck that night. Mr. Secord. Ha ! ha ! friend John, thine is a soldier's brain Beneath that Quaker hat. Quaker (in some embarrassment, rising). No, no, I am a man of peace, and hate The very name of war. I must be gone. (To Mrs. Secord.) My woman longs to see thee. Mistress. Good-bye to all. The Little Girls (rising). Good-bye, sir. ■-■'*, THE HKROINE OF l8l2. 10 Mrs. Sccoi'd. Good-bye, Jolin. "'' would please me much to see my friend af,'ain, Hut war blots out the sweet amenities Of life. Give her my love. Q ■''•c: I will. Mr. St 'rJ (rising and taking his crutch). I'll walk a piece wi , you, friend Penn, And sec you past the lines. [His little daughter, HARRUiT. hands him his hat. Quaker. That's right, 'twill do thee good : Thy wounds have left thee like an ailing girl, So poor and pale. [Exeunt yiiaker and Mr. Skcoru. Charlotte. Oh, dear, I wish I were a man, to fi-ht In such brave times as these ! ' Enter Mary, a girl of fourteen. Mary. Were wishing aught Soon should another sword strike for the King, And those dear rights now rudely overlooked.'" Mrs. Secord. My child ? Mary. Qh naught, mamma, save the old tale : no nook mat s not mvaded, even one's books Borrowed without one's leave. I hate it all ' Mrs. Secord. We must be patient, dear, it cannot last Harriet. Oh, if we girls were boys, or Charles a man ' Mrs. Secord. Poor baby Charles ! See, he's asleep; and now Dear girls, seemg we cannot fight, we'll pray ' That peace may come again, for strife and blood Though wisely spent, are taxes hard to pay But come, 'tis late ! See Charlie's dropt asleep ; Smg first your evening hymn, and then to bed. ' I'll lay the darling down. Exit Mrs. Secord, with the child in her arms. Charlotte. You start it, Mary. 'f ii 16 Children sing- LAU'AA SECORD, HYMN. Softly as falls the evening shade, On our bowed heads Thy hands be laid ; Surely as fades the parting light, Our sleep be safe and sweet to-night. Calmly, securely, may we rest. As on a tender father's breast. Let War's black pinions soar away, And dove-like Peace resume her sway, Our King, our country, be Thy care, Nor ever fail of childhood's prayer. Calmly, securely, may we rest As on a tender father's breast. Scene 2. — The same place and the same hour. Enter Mrs. Secord. After a weary day the evening falls With gentle benison of peace and rest. The deep'ning dusk draws, like a curtain, round. And gives the soul a twilight of its own ; A soft, sweet time, full of refreshing dews, And subtle essences of memory And reflection. O gentle peace, when — Enter Pete, putting his head in at the dour. Pete. O, mistis ! Heh, mistisi Mrs. Secord. What now, Pete ? Pete. Oh, mistis, dat yar sergeant ossifer — Dat sassy un what call me " Woolly-bear." An' kick my shin, he holler 'crass to me : — " You, Pete, jes' you go in, an' tell Ma'am Secord I'se comin' in ter supper wiv some frens." He did jes' so — a sassy scamp. Mrs. Secord. To-night ? At this hour ? Pete. Yes, mistis ; jes', jes' now. I done tell Flos [Exeunt. THE HKROINE OF l8l2. 17 xcunt. Ter put her bes' leg fus', fer I mus' go An" ten' dat poo', sick hoss. Mrs. Secord. Nay, j-ou'll do nothing of the kind ! You'll stay And wait upon these men. I'll not have Flos Left single-handed by your cowardice. Pete. I aint a coward— ef I hed a club ; Dat poo', sick hoss — Mrs. Secord Nonsense ! Go call me Flos, and see you play no tricks to-night. Pete. No, mistis, no ; no tricks. [Asich'. Ef Fd a club !] He calls from the door : Flos ! Flos ! Ma'am Secord wants ye. Mrs. Secord (spreadin^r a cloth upon the table). God help as if these men much longer live Upon our failing stoies. Enter Fi.os. What have you got to feerl these fellows, Flos ' Flos. De mistis knows it aint much, pas' noo bread, An' two— three pies. Fve sot some bacon sisslin'. An' put some taties on when Pete done tole me. Pete. Give 'em de cid-.T, mistis, an' some beer, And let 'em drink 'em drunk till mas'r come An' tell me kick 'em out. Flos. You !— jes' hoi' yer sassy tongue. [Footsteps are heard ^cifluntt. Pete. Dat's um. Dey's comin'. Dat poo', sick hoss— [He maka fur the door. Mrs. Secord. You, Pete, com. back and lay this cloth, And wait at table properly with Flos. P.nter a Ser<,'eant, a Corporal and four Privates. Sergeant (strikinfr Pete on the head with his cane). That's for your ugly phiz and impinlence. [Exit Pete, howlinsr, (To Mrs. Secord.) Your slaves are saucy. Mistress Secord Mrs. Secord. Well, sir ! Sergeant. None of my business, eh ? Well, 'tis sometimes You see. You got my message : what's to eat ? >l 'B I 18 LAURA SECORD, Mrs. Secord. My children's food, sir. This nor post-house is, Nor inn, to take your orders. 'Flos and Pete enter, carrying dishes. Sergeant. O, bless you, we don't order ; we command. Here, men, sit down. [He seats hiii .if at the head of the table, and the others take their pieces, some of them greeting Mrs. Secord with a salute of respect. Bo}', fill those jugs. You girl, Set that dish down by me, and haste with more. Bacon's poor stuff when lamb and mint "s in season. Why don't you kill that lamb. Ma'am Secord ? Mrs. Secord. "Tis a child's pet. Sergeant. O, pets be hanged ! [Exit Mrs. Secord. Corporal. Poor thing! I'm sure none of us want the lamb. A Private. We'll have it, though, and more, if Bcerstler — Corporal. Hold your tongue, 3'ou — Second Private (drinking). Here's good luck, my boys, to that surprise — Corporal (aside J Fool ! icrs^eant fdrinkinsr). Here's to to-morrow and a cloudy n'n 0' Fill all your glasses, boys. cloudy night. Scene 3. — Mrs. Secord' s bedroom. She is walking up and down in much agitation. Enter Mr. Secord. Mrs. Secord (springing to meet liiin). Oh, James, where have you been ? Mr. Secord. I did but ramble through the pasture, dear, And round the orchard. 'Twas so sweet and still. Save for the echo of the sentry's tre id O'er the hard road, it might have been old times. But — but — you're agitated, dear ; what's wrong? * I see our unasked visitors were here. Was that— ? THE HEROINE OF l8l2. 19 Mrs. Seconl. Not that; yet that. Oh, James, I scarce can bear The stormy swell that surges o'er my heart, Awaked by what they have revealed this night. Mr. Secord. Dear wife, what is't ? Mrs. Secord. Oh, sit you down and rest, for you will need All strength you may command to hear me tell. [Mr. Secord sits down, his wife by him. That saucy fellow. Winter, and a guard Came and demanded supper ; and, of course. They had to get it. Pete and Flos 1 left To wait on them, but soon they sent them off. Their jugs supplied, — and ''"ell a-talking, loud, \s in defiance, of some private plan To make the British wince. Word followed word. Till I, who could not help but hear their gibes. Suspected mischief, and, listening, learned the whole. To-morrow night a large detachment leaves Fort George for Beave' Dam. Five hundred men. With some dragoons, artillery, and a train Of baggage-waggons, under Boerstler, go To fall upon Fitzgibbon by surprise. Capture the stores, and pay for Stony Creek. Mr. Secord. Aly God ! and here am I, a paroled cripple ! Oh, Canada, my chosen countiy ! Now — Is't now, ni this thy dearest strait, I fail ? I, who for thee would pour my blood with joy — Would give my life for thy prosperity — Must I stand by, and see thy foes prevail Without one thrust ? [In his agitation he rises Mrs. Secord. Oh, calm thee, dear ; thy strength is all to me, Fitzgibbon shall be warned, or aid be sent. M.'. Secord. But how, wife ? how ? Let this attempt succeed, As well it may, and vain last year's success ; In vain fell Brock : in vain was Queenston fought : In vain we pour out blood and gold in streams : T 20 LAURA SECORD, ii II I: 1. I For Dearborn then may push his heavy force Alonj:;^ the hikes, with Ion f^ odds in his favour. And I, unhai)p3^ wretch, in such a strait Am here, unfit for service. Thirty men Are all Fitzgibbon has to f^uard the stores And keep a road 'twixt Bisshopp and De Haren. Those stores, that road, would f^ive the Yankee all. Mrs. Sccord. Why, be content now, dear. Had we not heard. This plot mif^ht have passed on to its dire end, Like the pale owl that noiseless cleaves the dark. And, on its dreaminj^ prey, swoops with fell claw. Mr. Secord. What better is it ? Mrs. Secord. This; that myself will go to Beaver Dam, And warn Fitzgibbon : there is yet a day. Mr. Secord. Thou ! thou take a task at which a man might shrink ? No, no, dear wife ! Not so. Mrs. Secord. Ay, prithee, let me go ; 'Tis not so far. And I can pass unharmed Where you would be made prisoner, or worse. They'll not hurt me — my sex is my protection. Mr. Secord. Oh, not in times like these. Let them suspect A shadow wrong, and neither sex, nor tears. Nor tenderness would save thy fate. Mrs. Secord. Fear not for me. Fll be for once so wise The sentries shall e'en put me on my way. Once past th.e lines, the dove is not more swift Nor sure to find her distant home than I To reach Fitzgibbon. Say I may go. Mr. Secord (putting his arm round her tenderly ). How can I let thee go ? Thy tender feet Would bleed ere half the way was done. Thy strength Would fail 'twixt the rough road and summer heat, And in some gloomy depth, faint and alone, Thou would'st lie down to die. Or, chased and hurt By wolf or catamount, thy task undone. THK HEROINK OK l8l2. 21 not Thy precious life would then be thrown away. I cannot let thee .) Mrs. Secord (aside). Could I but get her out of sight, I'd drive The creature round the other way, and go My own. Pray Heaven the sentry watch me not Too closely ; his manner roused my fears. [She waves her hand at the cow, which moves on. Co' boss ! co' boss. Sh ! Haste thee, poor cow ; I ! : THE HEROINE OF lHl2. •25 Fly from me ! though never didst thou yet ; Nor should'st do now, but for the stake I play. [Both disappear in the hush. Sentry (dpostropltisitii^ tin- (ihappeayiu!^ "• cticniy" ). Well, mistress, were you gentle as your face, The creature wouldn't run you such a race. It serves you right ! The cows my Anna milks. Come at her call, like chickens. O, sweet voice, When shall I hear you next ? Even as I pace With measured step this hot and dusty road, The soft June breezes take your tones, and call, " Come, Henry, come." Would that I could ! Would I had never joined ! Uut my hot blood o'ermastered my cool sense, Nor let me see that always is not bought Honour by arms, but often dire disgrace. For so it is, as now I clearly see. We let the animal within remain Unbroke, till neither gyve nor gear will serve To steady him, only a knock-down blow. Had I, and others, too, within the ranks, Haltered our coltish blood, we should have found That hate to England, not our country's name And weal, impelled mad Madison upon this war ; And shut the mouths of thousand higher men Than lie. It is a lesson may I learn So as to ne'er forget, that in the heat of words Sparks oft are struck that should be straightway quenched In cool reflection ; not enlarged and fed With passionate tinder, till a flame is blown That reaches past our bonds, and leaves behind Black, sullen stumps where once the green trees grew. If honour's what we want, there's room enough F"or that, and wild adventure, too, in the West, At half the cost of war, in opening up A road shall reach the great Pacific. (A step). Ha ! Who goes there ? [Exit. rj^ i [ :• I •2(i LAURA SKCORI), 1 i i ■! Scene 5. — The Road at the /out of Queenston Helfrhts. Mrs. Secord (lookiiti^ in the (lircctiou of her lioiiie). Gone ! Gone ! Quite out of sif^'ht ! Farewell, my home, C.'isket that iiolds my jewels ! If no more My happ)' eyes rest on thy lowly roof, If never more my ears drink in the sounds Of sweeter music, in your loving tones, My darlinj^'s, than e'er was drawn from harp The best attuned, by wander injj; /lu)lus, Then let my memory, like some foml relic laid In misk and lavender, softly exhale A thousand tender thoughts to so-Hhe and bless ; And let my love hide in your heart of hearts. And with ethereal touch control your lives, Till in that better home we meet aj;ain. (She covers her face with her hands, and 7i'ceps unrestrainedly fur a Je7v seconds, then recovers herself, and raises he hands in prayer.) Guard them and me, O Heaven. [She restnnes her journey , hut still ^azcs in the direction of the Heights. And Brock ! McDonnell ! Dennis ! All ye hero band, who fell on yonder Heights ! If I should fall, give me a place among ye, And a namd will be my children's pride. For all — my all — I risk, as ye, to save My country. [Exit. ■ i IHK HF.ROINK OF lSl2. •27 Gone ! or a ft' 70 Heights. [Exit. ACT I!. ScENK I. —The frrcat kitchen at St. David's Mill. lircakfast-tiiuc. At the board are seated the Widow Stoplitm Secortl, SerKennt (luorge Mosier, and little Tom. Babuttc is waiting at table. ]Vid<)XO. 'Tis pitiful to see one's l,and go waste For want of labour, and the summer days, So rich in blessing, spend tiieir fruitfid force On barren furrows. And then to think That over both the Provinces it is the same, — No men to till the land, because the war Needs every one. God knows how we shall feed Next year: small crop, small grist, — a double loss To me. The times are anxious. (To Sergeant Mosier.) Have you news? Scr. There is a little path leads down To a small creek, cross that, and keep the sun Behind you half a mile, and then you strike The bush, uncleared and wild. Good God, to think — Mrs. Secord. Think not, but pray, and if a chance occurs Send aid to poor Fitzgibbon. Little help Just in the nick of time oft turns the scale Of fortune. God bless you, dear ! Good bye. [They embrace with tears. Exit Mrs. Secord. I THE HKKOINE OF l8l2. 39 •^•rll^ (s into tears . [Kisses her. "i joins her. s to a tree. cur; Secoro. ScENK 2. — A beautiful glade. Enter Mrs. Secouu. — After scanning the spot scarchingly, she seats herself un a fallen trunk. Mrs. Secord. Tliis spot is surely safe; here I will rest, For unaccustomed service tires my limbs, And I have travelled many a weary rood More than a crow-line measures ; ups and downs Absorb so many s'teps that nothinj; add To distance. Faint am I, too, and thirsty. Hist ! hist ! ye playful breezes that do make Melodious symplionies and ripplinf? runs Among the pines and aspens, hear I not A little tinklin-.,^ rill, that somewhere hides Its sweet beneficence 'mid ferns and moss ? [She rises and looks about. Ay, here it is : a tiny brilliancy That glances at the light, as careful, still, To keep the pure translucency that first It caught from Heaven. Give me, oh give, sweet rill, A few cool drops to slake my parching throat. Fair emblem truly thou of those meek hearts That thread the humblest haunts of sufTering earth With Christ-like charities, and keep their souls Pure and untaint, by Heavenly communings. [She reseats herself and contemplates the sc.nc. O this is beautiful ! Here I could lie — Were earth a myth and all her trials nought— And dream soft nothings all a summer's day. In this fair glade were surely celebrate The nuptials of the year : and for her gift, Fair Flora, lightly loitering on the wing Of Zephyrus, tossed all her corbel out. Filling the air with bloom. From yonder copse, ■With kindling eye and hasty step, emerged i— 'W V,*f^^ '* 40 LAURA SBXORD, \l « I i I * Tht; f,'la(lsonie Spring,', with leafy honours crowneil, His followin*,' a troop of skippin^^ hiiiibs : And o'er yon hill, blushinf^ for joy, approached His iiappy l>ride, on billowy odours borne, And every painted win;,' in tendance bent. Procession beautiful ! Yet she how fair ! — The lovely Sunim(!r, in her robes of blue, Bedecked with every flower that Flora f^ave,— Sweet ep^lantine and meek anemone, l>rij:;ht, nodding columbine and wood-star white. Blue violets, like her eye^, and pendant f^cms Of dielytra, topaz-tipped and f^old. Fragrant arbutus, and hepatica. With thousands more. Her wreath, a coronet Of openinj^ rose-buds twined with lady-fern ; And over ail, her bridal-veil of white, — Some soft diaph'nous cloudlet, that mistook Her robes of blue for heaven. — And I could dream That, from his lofty throne beholding. Great Sol, on wings of glowing eve, came down In gracious liaste, to bless the nuptials. (She pauses.) And shall this land. That breathes of poesy from every sod. Indignant throb beneath the heavy foot Of jeering renegade ? at best a son His mother blushes for — shall he, bold rebel ! Entwine its glories in defiant wreath Above his boastful brow, and flaunt it in Her face, rejoicing in her woe ? No ! No ! This priceless gem shall ever deck her crown, And grace its setting with a ray more pure For that, nor flood, nor fire, can flaw its heart. Yes, Canada, thy sons, at least, maintain The ancient honour of their British blood. In that their loyalty contracts no stain From proffered gifts or gold. n m IHK HKROINE OF l8l2. 41 But I must on. I may not loiter, while So much depends on me. fSlu- fiscs to proceed, and dt the first step a rattlesnake rears up at her, hiss- nifr and springing its rattles. She recoils in fear, hut remembering the coivardly nature of the creatures, thruics sticks at if, and it glides siviftly away.) Vile reptile ! Base as vile, and cowardly as base ; A straight descendant thou of him, methinks, Man's ancient foe, or else his paraphrase. Is there no Eden that thou enviest not ? No purity thou would'st not smirch with gall ? No rest tnou would'st not break with agony ? Aye, Eve, our mother-tongue avenges thee, For there is nothing mean, or base, or vile, That is not comprehended in the name Of SNAKE! [Exit Mrs. Secord. Scene 3. — A thick wood through which runs a forest path, leading to a high beech ridge. Enter Mrs. Secord, ivalking as quickly as the underbrush will allow. Mrs. Secord. How quiet are the woods ! The choir of birds that daily ushers in The rosy dawn with bursts of m. od}-, And swells tiie joyful train that waits upon The footsteps of the sun, is silent now, Dismissed to greenwood bowers. Save happy cheep Of callow nestling, that closer snugs beneath The soft and sheltering wing of doting love, — Like croon of sleeping babe on mother's breast- No sound is heard, but, peaceful, all enjoy Their sweet siesta on the waving bough. Fearless of ruthless wind, or gliding snake. So peaceful lies Fitzgibbon at his post, I 'J LAURA SF.CORD, i I P' lil Nor dreams of harm. Meanwhile the foe GHdes from his hole, aiul threads the darkling route. In hope to coil and crush him. Ah, little recks he that a woman holds The power to draw his fangs I And yet some harm must come, some blood must ilow. In spite of all my poor endeavour. C) War, how much I hate thy wizard arts, That, with the clash and din of brass and steel, O'erpowers the voice of pleading reason ; And with thy lurid light, in monstrous rays linfolds the symmetry of human love. Making a brother seem a phantom or a ghoul ! IJefore thy deadly scowl kind peace retires, And seeks the upper skies. O, cruel are the hearts that cry "War !" "War !" As if War were an angel, not a fiend ; ' His gilded chariot, a triumphal car, And not a Juggernauth whose wheels drop gore ; His offerings, flowers and fruit, and chaplels gay. And not shrieks, tears, and groans of babes anl of the wolves is again heard, but faintly, rhank God, not me they seek ! Seme other scent allures the j^dioulish horde. On, on, poor trembler ! life for life it is, If I may warn Fitzgibbon. [She steps inadvertently into a little pool, hastily stoops and drinks irladly. Oh blessed water ! To my parched tongue More precious than were each bright drop a gem From far Golconda's mine ; how at thy touch The parting life comes back, and hope returns To cheer my drooping heart ! (She trips and falls, and instantly the Indian war-whoop resounds close at hand, and numbers of braves scent to spring from the ground, one of whont approaches her as she rises with his tomahawk raised.) Indian. Woman ! what woman want ? Mrs. Secord (leaping forxuard and seizing his annj. O chief, no spy am I, but friend to you And all who love King George and wear his badge. All through this day I've walked the lonely woods To do you service. I have news, great news, To tell the officer at Beaver Dam. This very night the Long Knives leave Fort George To take him by surprise, in numbers more 0* THE HEROINE OF l8l2. Ii> vl is heard . Than crows on ripening corn. O help me on ! I'm Laura Secord, Captain Secord's wife, Of Queenstown ; and Tecumseh, your great chief, And Tekoriogea are our friends. Chief. White woman true and brave, I send with you Mishe-mo-qua, he know the way and sign, And bring you safe to miglity chief Fitzgibbon. Mrs. Secord. O thanks, kind chief, and never shall your braves Want aught that I can rrive them. Chief (to another). Young chief, Mish-e-nio-qua, with woman go, And give her into care of big white chief. She carry news. Dam Long-Knife come in dark To eat him up. Mishe-ino-qua. Ugh ! rascal ! dam ! [Excu'it MisHE-Mo-yuA and Mrs. Secord. iiid drinks. I r-w I r)0 LAURA SECORD, ACT III. ill i r In ■ il j 1 Scene i. — Dicau's house, a stone edifice of some pretensions. The parlour, 7vith folding doors tvhich now stand a little apart. A sentry is visible, on the other side of them. The parlour windows are barricaded roithin, but are set open, and a branch of a climbing rose with flowers upon it, sivings in. The sun is setting, and gilds the arms that are piled in one corner of the room. A sword in its scabbard lies across the table, near which, in an arm-chair, reclines Lieutenant Fitzgibbon, a tall man of fine presence ; in his right hand, tvhich rests negligently on the back of the chair, he holds a newspaper of four pages, "The Times," from tvhich he has been reading. Several elderly weather- beaten non-commissioned officers and privates, belonging to the ^gth, lo^th, and Sth regiments, together tvith a few militiamen and two cadets share the society of their superior officer, and all are very much at their ease both in appointments and manner, belts and stocks are unloosed, and some of the men are smoking. Lieut. Fitzgibboii. 'Tis true, it seems, and yet most horrible ; More than five hundred thousand fif,diting men Crossed with him o'er the front, and not a tenth Remains. Rather than let him find a place For winter quarters, two hundred thousand Happy families had to forsake their homes In dead of winter, and of the ancient seat Of Russian splendour, Rotopschin made a pyre, A blazing pyre of all its precious things : Moscow is burned. First Sergeant. So Boney could but toast his freezing toes And march back home again : Fine glory that ! Fitzgihbo}i. Sad waste of precious liv^es for one man's will. But this mishap will seal his fate. The Czar Will see his interest is a strong alliance. And all the Powers will prove too great a match. Even for Buonaparte. Second Sergeant. Where is he now. Lieutenant ? Fitzgibboii. In Paris, plotting again, I sec; or was Nine weeks ago. First Private. Yon news coom quick. IHF. HEROINE OF l8l2. I Now when I were a bairn, that's forty year" sin", We heard i' York "at Merriky refused To pav the taxes, just three niunth's ai;ter ; An' that wur bonnie toime, fur then t'coaiich Tuk but foive dailies ti niak" t' hull wasu' doon. Two hunner nioile, fra Lunnon, Fttz They sink ! They fly ! Thuy drop down stream.— Ah, too dehisive sight ! A long-abandoned path they find, and gain the wooded height. The batteries now must guard the shore — above, our strugglt lies; But down they pour, like surging flood, that skill and strengtli defies. Down, down, they press us, inch by inch, beyond the village bound, And there, o'erwhelmed, but not o'erconie, we keep our sullen ground. Short time we stand. A ringing cheer proclaims our hero nigh , t)ur darling leader, noble Brock— hark to his gallant cry! " Follow me, boys ! " the hero cries. We double to the wall — Waving his gleaming sword on high, he climbs, and follow all ; Impetuous up the mountain side he strides in warlike glee, All heedless of the leaden hail that whistles from each tree : For on and up proud Victory lures — we touch her laurel crown — NV'hen by malign, deliberate aim the hero's s^tricken down. He falls! We fire, but ah, too late — the murderous work is done; No more that voice shall cheer us on, with " Vict'ry ! " in its tone. He falls : nor word nor look may cheer young Jarvis' anxious quest ; Among his stricken men he sinks, his hand but seeks h:s breast. O, Death, could none but him suffice thy cold, insatiate eye ? Nor knewed'st thou how many there for him would gladly die ! Nor lonely speeds the parting soul, nor lonely stands the bier — Two forms the bastion-tomb enfolds, two claim the soldier's tear. " Avenge the General ! " was the cry. " AVENGE ! " McDonell cries. And, leading madly up the Height, McDonell falls and dies, [Several of the men pass their hands over their eyes; Mr. J.arvis goes to the open windoiv, as if to observe something zvithoiit. An Sth man. A mournful ditty to a mournful tune, Yet not unworthy of the heroic theme, ' Nor of a soldier's heart. ^Ir. Jarvis (in a low voice). Indeed, you're right. 1 thank the singer for his memories, Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest breath. Fitzgibbon. I did not think there had been such a stroke Of genius in the lad. (Another voice.) But who's this, now ? Second Cadet. It's young Jack Kelley, sir; he has a voice. And emulates old Bill. Jack Kelley (with the airs of an amateur). Ugh! ugh! I'm hoarse. AQ LAUIiA SECORD, 11 ■' Now mind the coal-box, bj'es, and sing it up. ■" The Jolly Midshipman's " the tune. |H 7;:^ SONG. 1. It was a bold Canadian boy That loved a winsome girl ; And he was bold as ancient knight, She, fair as day's own pearl. And to the greenwood they must go, To build a home and name, So he clasped hands with Industry, For fortune, wealth and fame. CHORUS {In which nl! join, the leader beating time upon his knees ivith his fists.) For fortune, wealth and fame, For fortune, wealth and fame, So he clasped hands with Industry, For fortune, wealth and fame. 11. And when the jocund Spring came in. He crowned the wedded pair. And sent them forth with hearts elate Their wildwood home to share. For he had built a snug log-houst Beneath a maple tree ; And his axe had cleared a wide domain, While store of goods spun she. CHORUS. While store of goods spun she, While store of goods spun she. And his axe had cleared a wide domain, While store of goods spun she. in. The husband whistles at his plough. The wife sings at her wheel. The children wind the shrilly horn That tells the ready meal. And should you roam the wide world o'er, No happier home you'll see. Than this abode of loving toil Beneath the maple tree. Till'; HEROINE 01- l8l2. 67 CHORUS, Beneath the; maple tree, Beneath the maple tree, Than this abode of loving toil Beneath the maple tree. A ^gtlt mail. Iluirah, Jack ! that's a good tune, Let's have the chorus again. All— Beneath the maple tree, Beneath the maple tree, Than this abode of lov — [The Sentry chaUcngc faints. Poor soul ! poor soul ! she is exhaust indeed. (The men run out and bring water, Fitzgibbon gets brandy from a buffet, and Mr. Jarvis unloosens her bonnet and eollar. They bathe her hands with THE HEROINE OF l8l2. 61 the spirit and sprinkle her face with the water, and at last Mrs. Secord sighs heavily.) Fitzgibhon. She's comin.c,' to. Back, men; give her more air. (Mr. Jakvis and another Cadet support Mrs. Secord, while Lieut. Fitz- GiBBON offers her coffee, into which he has poured a little brandy, feeding her with the spoon.) An Sth man (aside). She'll never walk to reach her friends to-night. A /\.gtli man (to a comrade). Jack, thou an' me can do't. 'Tyent the fust time We've sv/ung a faintin' comrade 'twixt us two; An' lier's just like a babby. Fatch a pole An' blanket, an' we'll carry her. A Sergeant. You'll then be in the rear, for we're to move. Second ^gtli man. We'll catch ye oop a foight'n'; its summat wuth To wafiit o' sech as she. Fitzgibhon (to Mrs. Secord). Are you better now ? Mrs. Secord (trying to stand). I think I am. Oh, sir, I'm losing you The time I tried to save ! Pray leave me — I shall be better soon, and I can find my way. Fitzgibbon. Nay, be not anxious; we are quite prepared. Sheathed though our claws may be, they're always sharp. Pray drink again, nor fear the potent touch That snatches back the life when the spent heart. Oppressed by cruel tasks, as yours, can scarcely beat. [Mrs. Secord drinks the coffee, and again rises, but can scarcely stand. ^gth man (saluting). Sir, me an' Bill has here a hammock ready, An' volunteers to see the lady safe Among her friends. Mrs. Secord. But I can walk. Fitzgibbon. Madam, you cannot. Let these carry you; "1 ,l.i i^ h:| M ■ 1 i f ^ --i > AmM ' 02 LAURA SKCORD, An honour I do grudge them. 1 shall move With better heart knowing you cared for. Mrs. Secord. I'll go at once — Fitzgibbon. Men, bring j^our hammock hither. (The haiumuck is brought, and Mrs. Secord is assisted into it by LiEtrr. Fitzgibbon, who jvraps a blanket round hrr. The men fall into line, and salute as she passes. At the door she offers her liand to Fitzgibbon. ^ Mrs. Secord. Farewell, sir. My best thanks for all your goodness, Your hospitality, and this, your escort; You do me too much honour. Fitzgibbon. Should we not Show our respect for one has done so much For us ? We are your debtors, madam. • [He points to the sky, set thick with brilliant stars, the moon having already set. See how the eyes of heaven look down on you, And smile, in gentle approbation Of a most gentle deed. I pr:iy they light You safely to your friends. Mrs. Secord. And you to victory, sir. Farewell. [Fitzgibbon boivs. [Exeunt Mrs. Secord and her escort. Fitzgibbon (to the men lalio have crowded round the door, and are awaiting orders). Men, never forget this woman's noble deed. Armed, and in company, inspirited F- ; crash of martial music, soldiers march To duty; but she, alone, defenceless. With no support but kind humanity And burning patriotism, ran all our risks Of hurt, and bloody death, to serve us men, Strangers to her save by quick war-time ties. Therefore, in grateful memory and kind return, Ever treat women well. Men. Aye, aye, sir. 4ii£ THE HF.ROINK OK l8l2. Fitzg'thbon. Now, tlien, for action. I need not say, Men, do your duty. The hearts that sprung To follow Nelson ; Brock; have never failed. I'm proud, my men, to be your leader now. 63 ti Scene 2. — Morninrr tiv'diij;ht. A little wayside tavern at a cross-road. Enter Fitzgiijhon, reconnoitring. Fitzgibbon. They must be pretty near by this time, If they are come at all. (Two American soldiers of the advanced gnard rush out of the tavern and present their rijtes. Fitzgibbon springs on them, and, seizing each )nan's wea- pon, crosses them in front uericaii officer . .Sir, with respect, our colonel bids me say That, seeing fate and fortune both unite To mar success, he'll rather save his men By fair surrentler, than waste their lives In useless struggle. He commissions me To act in drawing up the terms. I am McDowell, captain of a troop. Fitzgibboii (bowing). Your humble servant, sir. We'll try to please Your colonel ; rejoicing we have met a foe Who knows the bravery of discretion. Enter Col. Clarke, Capt. Kerr, of the Indian contingent, and Mishe-mo-^ua. (The British officers consult, and then invite Capt. McDowell to join tluni. A drum is brought, Major De Haren produces writing materials; and terms of capitulation are drawn up, zvhich are read to Capt. McDowellJ Fitzgibbon. Our terms ,v'e make as light as possible: I hope you'll find them so, sir. Capt. McDowell (after reading). Terms generous and hon- ourable, sir ; I thank you. A noble foe is always half a friend. I'll carry them to Colonel Bcerstler, With your consent. [FiTZGIBHON boiVS. [Exit Capt. McDowell. Enter Major De Haren, ^cho hastens to greet Lieut. Fitzgibbon. Major De Haren. Why, what is this, P'itzgibbon, that I hear ? That with your little handful }'ou have caught Five hundred enemy? A very elephant ! Fitzgibbon. A strait like mine required some strategy. De Haren. My dear, brave fellow^ you have surely won The golden epaulettes ! How glad I am 'ii ■)i f " i ;si •M, 66 LAURA SKCORD, I was not hero before. Such tact ! such skill ! You are a soldier born. But who comes hither ? Enii'f Col. Bcerstler, Cai'T. McDowell and other American oncers. Fitzi^ihlxui. These are the officers to sign our terms. {The officers on both sides salute. Dcerstler (to Fitzgihhnn). I thank you, sir, for honourable terms. For vain it was to cope with force like yours. But ne'er 1 thought to put my hand to such A document. [He takes up the pen. Fitzgihhou. Fortime of war, sir, that we all may meet. [Each officer signs the document in his order; Mlshe-mg-qua draws his totem^a bear — as his signature. De Haren (to Col. Bcerstler). Will you proceed on the third article ? Bcerstler (to Capt. McDowell). Give you the order. [Exit Capt. McDowell. Fitzgihbon (to his men, ivho are draxvn up across the road — De Haren s command forming their right and left wings). Forward — ten paces, [Enter by companies the American force, tvhu lay down their arms in Jront of the British officers and defile to the rear. De Haren (to Fitzgihbon). A glorious day for you, Fitzgibbon • For this fair Canada, and British arms. Fitzgihbon. Yes, thanks to a brave woman's glorious deed. \E.xeunt. POEMS n POEMS. A BALLAD OF 1812. Now hush the martial trumpet's blare, And tune the softer lyre ; Nor shrink lest i^^entler tones should lack The high, heroic hre : For many a valiant deed is done. And great achievement wrought. Whose inspiration knows no source Save pure and holy thought. Nor think some lofty pedestal. Proud-lifted towards the skies, The only plane where Worth can wrest From Fame her highest prize : For many a nameless nook and lone. And many a tongueless hour. Sees deeds performed whose glories shame The pride of pomp and power. Nor dream that to a noble deed It needs a noble name ; Or that to mighty act achieved Must link a stalwart frame : For strung by Duty's steady hand, And thrilled by Love's warm touch, Slight forms and simple names may serve At need, to avail for much. 1 I m <\ ,!.» iM hif m ,*l. 70 POEMS. Then lay [he blaring trumpet by, And tune the softer lyre To songs of Woman's chivalry, Of Woman's patriot fire. Ill ! ; I. O heard ye not of Queenston Heights, - Of Brock who fighting fell, — And of the Forty-ninth and York, Who 'venged their hero well ? — And of the gallant stand they made — What prowess kept at bay The swelling foe, till Sheaffe appeared. And won the glorious day ! Yet heard ye how — ban of success — Irresolution ruled. Till all our green peninsula And border-land, were schooled To bear, nathless all frowniagl)-, The yoke of alien power, And wait in patience, as they might. The dawn of happier hour. Till Forty-mile, and Stony Creek, Revived our waning hopes. And round Fort George a limit held The Yankees as with ropes. Yet, as do cordons oft enclose The unwilling with the fam. Our people, by forced parole held, Could naught but own the rein. Then heaiu ye how a little post Some twenty miles away, A check upon proud Dearborn's hopes, Was fixed upon for prey ? A MAI.I.AD or l8l2. 71 And how lest I^ritain's bull-do^' pluck, Koiised by their isolation, Should make these few, brave, lonely men, Fight as in desperation. And prove a match for thrice their odds, They made them three times three, And thrice of that, with ,t;uns to boot, To insure a victory ? Then they would take the Night along — No mean ally with odds. As Stony Creek can testify : But thvn she marched with gods ! — Yet blame ye not the silent Night That she was forced to go. For oft have captives been compelled To serve the hated foe : And oft with grave and quiet mien, And Samson-like intent, Have brought about such ends, as by Their lords were never meant. Then blame ye not the dark-eyed Night, Of grave and silent mien ; Her whisper 'twas that foiled the foe, And fired our patriot queen. 11. "And why, my husband, why so pale ? " 'Twas Laura Secord spoke ; And when she heard his plaintive tale. Then all the patriot woke *' Thou knowest how Fitzgibbon holds The post at Beaver Dams, And Dearborn frets, and fumes, and chafes, And calls us British shams : i,il ■4 r r. m POKMS. ii * iJili ■ " Because we will not, willing, give, '1\) feed an alien ioc, The substance, all too poor and sparse, Our stinted fields may grow. " vSo when tlie Night puts on iier roi)es Of sad and sable hue, A host he senrls, of shameful strength, To oust that noble few. "And who shall warn lMtzgil)l)on ? Who? My weakness is my bale ; At such an hour of pressing need, that my aid should fail ! "And yet, my country, if my blood, Drawn from me drop by drop, Could save thee in tiiis av/ful strait, 'Twere thine, 'twere thine, to stop " This massacre, tliis horrid crime, To baulk this wicked plot ! My })aroie given ! by Heaven I could — 1 would — regard it not. " Hut her(; am I, a crip{)le weak ; Great Heaven ! and nmst they fall Because I, wretclied I alone, Know what will sure befall!" " Calm thee, my husband, calm thee now, Heaven ne'er ])oints out a deed. But to the creature i)y wiiO', . means Its action is decreed : " Thou, liad'st thou not been sick and lame, Would'st ne'er have learned this plot. And had'st thou strength thou could'st not pass Tlie lines, and not be shot. A HAI,I,AI) or 1812. " W'licrc'fore, 'tis plain, 'tis not to tlice The careful task is ^'wvti ; 'Tis rather me ; and I will {^o, Safe in the care of Heaven." " Thou ^^o, dear wife ! a woman soft, And not too l)rave to shake At sif^ht of wolf or catamount. Or many-rattled snake : " Thou f^o !" " Nay, smile not, 1 will go ; Fitzgihbon shall not fall I'nwarned at least ; aiid Meavep will ;ruard Its mcssenger-in-thrall." III. Scarce had Aurora backward drawn The curtains of the night. Scarce had her choristers awaked The echoes with delight ; When Laura Secord left her home, With holy message fraught. And lone Fit/.gihbon's distant post With liasty footsteps sought. She chides the harsh-tongued sentinel Whose musket stops her way. And hies her from his curious sight In such sort as sIk- may. A second bars her forward path, Nor will he l)e coiitent ; And all her woman's wit she needs Before his doui)ts are s!)ent. Beyond, a third li.e challenge gives — She almost f^asps for breath — " Oh, at the Mill my I)rother lies Just at the point of death." ■1 w iT 74 POEMS. \u ' But he nor cares for death nor life : Yet when she kneels and weeps, He yields : for in his rugged heart A tender memory sleeps. VS^ith beating heart and trembling limb, Swift hastes she ; yet in ruth That even for her country s sake, She needs must veil the truth. And when a rise of ground permits A last, fond, lingering look. She, tearfui, views her home once more— A lowly, leafy nook. For there her sleeping children lie Unconscious of her woe ; Her choking sobs may not be stayed, For oh, she loves them so ! And there she leaves her maiden choice,. Her husband, lover, friend. Oh, were she woman could she less To homely sorrows lend ! On altar of the public weal Must private griefs expire — Her tender grief exhaled to Heaven On wings of patriot fire. The dew still glistened on the grass, The morning breezes swung The honeysuckle and the rose. Above whose sweetness hung The fritir butterfly, the bee. Whose early labours cheer. And point the happy industry That marks the opening year. A BALLAD Ot- l8l2. The cheerful robin's sturdy note, The gay canary's trill, Blent with the low of new-milked kine That sauntered by the rill : When i.aura Secord stood beside The doomed St. David's door. Whose portals never closed upon The weary or the poor. " O sister," cries the widowed dame, " What trouble brings you here ? Doth Jamie ail ? Hath aught arisen To mar 3'our fettered cheer ? " " Nor aileth any at the farm, Nor is our cheer less free, But I must haste to Beaver Dam, Fitzgibbon there to see. •' For many a foe this coming night. To take him by surprise. Is detailed, and he must be warned Before the moon doth rise." O pallid grew the gentle dame. And tremulous her tone, As Laura Secord, at the board, Made all her errand known. And oft her pallor turned to red. By indignation fired ; And oft her red to pallor turned. For Laura's sake retired. And many a cogent argument She used, of duteous \.ives; And many more that mothers thus Should never risk their lives. oil r r 76 I'OtMS. II 'i'l ill I , ^' iil 1 '' And of the tlaii<(ers of the \va}' She told a trembhng tale ; But to divert a settled mind Nor words nor woes avail. And many a tear she let down fall, — And some dropt Laura too, — But " 'Tis m\- country !" yet she cried, " My country may not rue." A tender leave she gently takes Of him all wounded laid Upon his wear}' couch of pain. But hides her errand sad. And then, while yet the day was \onng, The sun scarce quarter high, She plunges 'mid the sheltering bush, In fear of hue and cry, — Of hue and cry of cruel foes Who yet might learn her route. And mad with rage of baffled aim, Should spring in hot pursuit. On, on she speeds through bush and brake, O'er log and stone and briar ; On, on, for many a lengthening mile Might stouter footsteps tire. The hot sun mounts the upper skies. Faint grows the fervid air, And wearied nature asks for rest 'Mid scenes so soft and fair. The sward all decked with rainbow hues. The whispering of the trees. Nor perfumed airs of flowery June, Can win her to her ease. t .ii-: A BALLAD OF j8l2. Ah, serpent in our Paradise ! In choicest cup our j^all ! "J\vas thou, (iistraujf^ht Anxiety, Wrapped Beauty's self in pall ; And for that lonely traveller Empoisoned those sweet springs, To souls that languish, founts of life Bestirred by angel wings. Thou gavest each breeze an infant's cry, A wailing, woesome tone ; And in each call of wildwood bird vSpoke still of freedom gone. Nay now, why starts she in her path. By yonder tangled brake ? 'Tis at the dreaded menace sprung By angry rattlesnake. But know that fear is not the brand That marks the coward slave ; Tis conquered fear, and duty done, That tells the triily brave. With stick, and stone, and weapon mean She drives the wretch away, And then, with fluttering heart, pursues Her solitary way. And oft she trips, and oft she falls, And oft her gown is torn. And oft her tender skin is pierced By many a clutching thorn. And weariness her courage tries ; And dread of devious wav; And oft she hears the wild-cat shriek A requiem o'er its prey. 1 1 '.m m m ■■I I 11' '.S POEMS. [i i Hnffl|^B ^■1 1 HI H|| ! w"|P ' And when the oppressive summer air Hangs heavy in the woods, — Thougli many a bank of flowerets fair Invites to restful moods ; And though the ruby humming-bird Drones with the humming bee ; And every gnat and butterfl}' Soars slow and fitfull}' ; No rest that anxious messt:nger Of baleful tidings takes, But all the waning afternoon Her morning speed she makes. Over the hills, and 'mongst the brier, And through tlie oozy swamp, Her wear}' steps must never tue Ere burns the firefly's lanip. Oh, wherefore drops she on her knees. And spreads imploring hands ? \A'hy blanches that courageous brow ? Alas ! the wolves' dread bands ! *' Nay, not this death, dear Father ! Not A mangled prey to these ! " She faintly cries to Heaven, from out The darkening waste of trees. Fear not, O patriot, courage take. Thy Father holds thy hand. Nor lets the powers of ill prevail Where He doth take command. Away the prowling ghouls are fled, Some fitter prey to seek ; The trembling woman sighs the thanks Her white lips cannot speak. kJalJi,^. A BALLAD OF l8l2. 79 IV. Now wherefore halts that sentry bold, And lays his piece in rest, As from the shadowy depths below One gains the beechen crest ? 'Tis but a woman, pale and faint, — As woman oft may prove, Whose eagle spirit soars beyond The home-flight of the dove. How changes now the sentry's mien. How soft his tones and low. As Laura Secord tells her tale Of an impendent foe ! *' God bless thee, now, thou woman bold, And give thee great reward." The soldier says, with eyes suffused. And keeps a jealous guard. As onward, onward still she goes, With steady step and true, Towards her goal, yet far away, Hid in the horizon blue. Behind her grows the golden moon, Before her fall the shades, And somewhere near her hides the bird Whose death-call haunts the glades. The early dew blooms all the sod, The fences undulate In the weird light, like living lines That swell with boding hate. For she has left the tangled woods. And keeps the open plain Where once a fruitful farm -land bloomed, And yet shall bloom again. ^m >^'% Liiiiii {i : 80 POEMS. l! ill ■M'Al And now, as nears tlie dreaded hour, Her goal tlie nearer grows. And hope, the stimuhis of life, Her weary bosom glows. Toward's lone Decamp's — whose ancient home Affords I'^itzgibbon's band Such shelter as the soldier asks Whose life hangs on h's brand — A steady mile or so, and then — Ah, what is't rends the air With horrent, blood-encurdling tones. The tocsin of des])air 1 It is the war-whoop of the braves, Of Kerr's famed Mohawk crew. Who near Fitzgibbon ambushed lie To serve that lonely few. Startled, yet fearless, on she speeds. " Your chief denote," she cries ; And, proudly towering o'er the crowd, The chief does swift arise. Fierce rage is in his savage eye. His tomahawk in air ; " Woman ! what woman want ?" he cries, " Her death does woman dare ! " iiut quickly springs she to his side, And firmly holds his arm, " Oh, chief, indeed no spy am I, But friend to spare you harm." And soon she makes her errand known, And soon, all side bv side, The red man and his sister brave In silence quickly glide. •Mjitiiit^, A 15ALI,A1) 01' I (Si 2. And as the moon surmounts tlie trees, They ^'ain the sentried door, And faintly to Fitzj^nhbon she Unfolds her tale once more. Then, all her errand done, she seeks A lowly dwelling near. And sinks, a worn-out trembling thing, Too faint to shed a tear. 81 i : ' !■ i V. Now let the Lord of Hosts be praised ! Cheer brave Fitzgibbon's band. Whose bold discretion won the day. And saved our threatened land ! And cheer that wear}' traveller. On lowly couch that lies. And scarce can break the heavy spell That holds her waking eyes. No chaplet wreathes her aching brows, No paeans rend the air ; But in her breast a jewel glows The tried and true may wear. And Tune shall twine her wreath of bays Immortal as her fame. And many a generation joy, In Laura Secord's name. " Fitzgibbon and the Forty-ninth ! " Whene'er ye drink that toast To brave deeds done a grateful land, Praise Laura Secord most. As one who from tiie chargbd mine Coils back the lighted fuse, 'Twas hers, at many a fearful risk. To carry fateful news ; 82 POEMS. mmW. > i And save the dreadnought hand ; and give To Beaver Dam a name, The pride of true Canadian hearts, Of others, but the shame. VI. Now wherefore trembles still the string By lyric fingers crossed, To Laura Secord's praise and fame, When forty years are lost ? Nay, five and forty, one by one. Have borne her from the day When, fired by patriotic zeal, She trod her lonely way : Her hair is white, her step is slow. Why kindles then her eye, And rings her voice with music sweet Of many a year gone by ? O know ye not proud Canada, With joyful heart, enfolds In fond embrace, the royal boy Whose line her fealty holds ? For him she spreads her choicest cheer. And tells her happiest tale. And leads him to her loveliest haunts. That naught to please may fail. And great art thou, O Chippewa, Though small in neighbours' eyes, When out Niagara's haze thou seest A cavalcade arise ; And, in its midst, the royal boy, Who, smiling, comes to see An ancient dame whose ancient fame Shines in our history. A HAM, AD ^ ^ ^o.,.\-t>^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 12.0 1.8 1.25 ■ 1.4 II 1.6 V] ]:: i^ i ' '■i ■ :i ' ■ :i ::^ 1 ■■'■^^J l/'l if 'i «■ ' ^ « * i {' ' '■'■ ■ ■'.1 / , ■ ' ■ • ,i - 1 i i t; '\1 ■til !^i 86 POEMS. 1! iif'l THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND. CANADA S TUIHUTE TO THE TWEN rY-FOUKTH (2ND WARWICKSHIRE) REGIMENT. O THE roaring and tlie thunder ! O the terror and the wonder ! O the surging and the seething of the flood ! O the tumbhng and the rushing— O the grinding and the crushing — O the plunging and the rearing of the ice ! When the great St. Lawrence River, With a mighty swell and shiver, Bursts amain the wintry bonds that hold him fast. 'Twas on an April morning — And the air was full of warning Of the havoc and the crash that was to be. — A deed was done, whose glory Flames from out the simple story, Like the living gleim of diamond in the mine. 'Twas where St. Mary's Ferry In sweet summer makes so merry, 'Twixt St. Helen's fortressed isle and Montreal, There, on an April morning, — As if in haughty scorning Of the tale soft Zephyr told in passing by — Firm and hard, like road of Roman, Under team of sturdy yeoman, Or the guns, the ice lay smooth, and bright, and cold. And watching its resistance To the forces in the db :ance That nearer and yet nearer ever rolled. THE HERO OF S F. HELENS ISLAND. 87 Warnint'f off who tempt the crossinj^, All too soon so wildly tossing, Stood a party of Old England's Twenty-Fourth. While as yet they gazed in wonder, Sudden boomed the awful thunder That proclaimed the mighty conqueror at hand. O then the fierce uplifting ! The trembling, and the rifting! The tearing, and the grmding, and the throes ! The chaos and careermg, The toppling and the rearing. The crashing and the dashing of the floes ! At such an awful minute A glance, — the horror in it ! — Showed a little maiden midway 'twixt the shores, With hands a-clasp and crying. And, amid the masses, trying, — Vainly trying — to escape on either hand. O child so rashly daring ! Who thy dreadful peril sharing Shall, to save thee, tempt the terrors of the flood That roaring, leaping, swirling. And continuously whirling. Threats to whelm in frightful deeps thy tender form ! The helpless soldiers, standing On a small precarious landing. Think of nothmg but the child and her despair, WHien a voice as from the Highest, — To the child he being nighest — Falls ''Qiiick-niurch !" upon the ear of Sergeant Neill. O blessed sense of duty ! As on banderole of duty His unswerving eye he fixes on tlie child ; And straight o'er floe and fissure, Fragments 3nelding to his pressure, Toppling berg, and giddy block, he takes his way ; IK ' \ T ' '■F- '■n' 1' ". ! W i 1 Si ' H' : i ■i 'ii 88 POEMS. Sometimes climbing, sometimes crawling, Sometimes leaping, '^'^metimes falling, Till at last he stands where cowers the weeping child. Then with all a victors bearing. As in warlike honours sharing, With the child all closely clasped upon his breast, O'er floe and hummock taking Any step for safety making, On he goes, till the}' who watch can see no more. I! ' If i i n For both glass and light ure failing. As the ice-pack, slowl}^ sailing, Bears him onward past the shore of far Longiieil. " Lost !" his comrades cr}-, and turning. Eyes cast down, and bosoms burning, Gain the shelter of their quiet barrack home ; Where, all night, the tortured father Clasps the agonizing mother. In the mute embrace of hopelessness and dread. O the rapid alternations When the loud reverberations Of the evening gun boom forth the hour of rest ! The suffering and the sorrow ! The praying for the morrow^ ! The fears, the hopes, that tear the parents" breasts ! And many a word is spoken At the mess, so sadly broken, Of the men who mourn their comrade brave and true ; And many a tear-drop glistens, Whe-e a watching mother listens To the tumult of the ice along the shore. And ever creeping nearer, Children hold each other dearer. In the gaps of slumber broken by its roar. Twice broke the rosy dawning Of a sunny April morning, THE HERO OF ST. HELENS ISLAND. 89 And Hope had drooped her failing wings, to die ; When o'er the svvelhng river, Like an arrow from a quiver, Came the news of rescue, safety, glad return ; And the mother, as from Heaven, Clasped her treasure, newly-given ; And the father wrung the hand of Sergeant Neiil Who shrunk from their caressing. Nor looked for praise or blessing, But straight returned to duty and his post. li^ And this the grateful story, To others' praise and glory. That the Sergeant told his comrades round the fire. " Far down the swelling river, To the ocean flowing ever. With its teeming life of porpoise, fish, and seal. There hardy, brave, and daring. Dwells the habitant; nor caring Save to make his frugal living by his skill. Nor heeds he of the weather. For scale, and fur, and feather. Lay their tribute in his hand the year around. On the sunny April morning, That the ice had given warning Of the havoc and the crash that was to be, Stood Pierre, Louis, gazing, Their prayers to Mary raising, For a season full of bounty from the sea. And when the light was failing, And the ice-pack, slov/ly-sailing. Crashing, tumbhng, roaring, thundering, passed them by, Their quick eye saw with wonder. On the massev- torn asunder, An unfortunate who drifted to his doom. n; M J- ' !! i UP \l ! M If It ^ I 1 'I V 1^ m ii If '0 I 90 POEMS. "O then the exclamations! The rapid preparations ! The launching of canoes upon the wave ! The signalling and shouting ! — Death and disaster flouting — The anxious haste, the strife, a human life to save Across the boiling surges, Each man his light bark urges. Though death is in the error of a stroke ; And paddling, poising, drifting, O'er the floes the light shell lifting, The gallant fellows reach the whirling pack : And from the frightful danger. They save the worn-out stranger. And oh, to see the nursling in his arms ! And oh, tht; pious caring. The sweet and tender faring. From the gentle hands of Marie and Louise ! And the pretty, smiling faces, As the travellers take their places To return again to those who weep their loss." And the Sergeant's story ending, His head in rev'rence bending. He cried "God bless for ever all noble souls like these ! " But cheer on cheer resounded, Till the officers, astounded At their mess, upon their sword-hilts clapped their hands. And the plaudits rose still higher, When they joined with martial fire, In the cry "God bless the Twenty-Fourth, and its gallant Ser- geant Neill ! " OCTOHER I3TH, 1872. 91 itti OCTOBKR 13TII, 1872. A PLEA FOR THE VETERANS OF l8l2. Forget not, Canada, the men wlio ^^ave, In fierce and bloody fray, their lives for thine. Pause thou, Ontario, in tliy forward march, And give a tear to those who, lon>:( ago, On this day fell upon those Heights where now Their ashes rest beneath memorial pile. And while those names, Brock and Macdoxell, wake A tlirob of emulative gratitude And patriotic fervour in thy breast, Forget not those — "the boys." the nameless ones, — Who also fought and fell on that October day ; Nameless their ashes, but their mem'ries dear ! Remember, too, Those grandsires at thy hearths who linger still ; Whose youthful arms then helped to guard thy peace, - Thy peace their own. And ere they go to join Their ancient comrades of the hard- won fight, Glad their brave hearts with one applauding cheer In memory of the day. Comfort their age With plenty. Let them find that sturdy youth, Whose heritage they saved, bows rev'rent head, And lends a strong right arm to ancient men, Whose deeds of patriot prowess deck the silk That waves so proudly from the nation's towers. 92 POK.MS. LOYAL. "The Loyalists having sacrificed their property to their politics, were generally poor, and had to work hard and suffer many privations before they could reap crops to support their families. In those early days there were no merchants, no bakeries, no butchers' shops, no medical men to relieve l!ie fevered brain or soothe a mother's aching heart, no public house, no minister to console the flying or bury the dead, no means of instruction for the young ; all was bush, hard labour and pinching privation for the present, and long toil for the rising generations." Rev. G. a. Anderson, Protestant Chaplain to the Refufniatory, Penetanguishcne. O Yii, who with your blood and sweat Watered the furrows of this land, — See where upon a nation's brow In honour's front, ye proudly stand ! Who for her pride abased your own. And gladl}^ on her altar laid All bounty of the older world. All memories that your glory made. And to her service bowed your strength. Took labour for your shield and crest ; See where upon a nati(Dn's brow Her diadem, ye proudly rest ! ON QUERNSTON HEKJHTS. 93 i:M ON OUKKNSTON HEIGHTS. il'iil I STOOD on Queenston Heights ; And as I gazed from tomb to cenotaph, From cenotaph to tomb, adown and up. My heart grew full, much moved with many thoughts At lengtli I cried : "O robed with honour and with glory crowned. Tell me again the story of yon pile." And straight the ancient, sluiddering cedars wept, The solemn .junipers indued their pall. The moaning wind crept through the treml)ling oaks And, shrieking, fled. Strange clamour filled the air ; The steepy hill shook with the rush of arms ; Around me rolled the tide of sudden war. The booming guns pealed forth their dreadful knell ; Musketry rattled ; shouts, cries, groans, were heard ; Men met as foes, and deadly strife ensued. From side to side the surging combat rolled. And as it rolled, passed from my ken. A silence ! On the hill an alien flag Flies flaunting in the wind, mocking Ihe gun. Dark forms pour o'er the heights, and Britain's day Broods dark. But hark ! a ringing cheer peals up the height, Once more the battle'c. tide bursts on my view. Brock to the resciie ! Down goes the alien flag ! Back, back the dark battalions fall. On, on The "Tigers " come. Down pours the rattling shot From out the verdant grove, like sheets of hail. Up, up they press, York volunteers and all. Aha ! the day is ours ! See, where the hero comes In conquering might, quick driving all before him ! O brave ensample ! O beloved chief ! 94 POEMS. IH , \' .u n f I I Who follows thee keeps ever pace with lionour. Shout Victory ! ProuJ victory is ours ! Ours, noble Brock ! Ours? Death's! Death wins; the day is his. Ah ! shuddei still ye darkling cedars, Chant yet your doleful monotone, ye wind":? ; Indue again your grey funereal pall, Ye solemn junipers ; for here he fell, And here he lies, — dust ; ashes : nothing. Such tale the hill-side told me, and I wept. Nay ! I wept not ! The hot, indignant thouglits That tilled my breast burned up the welling tears Ere they had chance to flow, and forward Hate Spake rashly. But calm Reflection Laid her cool hand upon my throbbing brow And whispered, "As up the misty stream The Norseman crept to-day, and signals white Waved kind salutes from yon opposing shore ; And as ye peered the dusky vista through. To catch first glimpse of yonder glorious plinth. Yet saw it not till / your glance directed, — So high it towered above the common plane ; — So, towering over Time, shall Brock e'er stand. — So, from those banks, shall white-robed Peace e'er smile.' October 12^ 1881. NKVV ORLEANS. MONROE, MAYOR, APRIL 29, 1 862. NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR, APRIL 29, 1862. THE HAULING DOWN OF THE STATE FLAG FROM OVER THE CITY HALL. " The crowd flowed in from every irection and filled the street in a com- pact mass both above and below the square. They were silent, but angry and threatening. An open way was left in front of the hall, and their force being stationed, Captain Bell and Lieutenant Kantz pissed across the street, mounted the hall steps and entered the Mayor's parlour. Approaching the Mayor, Captain Bell said : " I have come in obedience to orders to haul dow n the State flag from this building." .... As soon as the two -s left the room Mr. Monroe also went out. Descending the front step. \ilked out into the street, and placed himself immediately in front of the howitzer pointing down St, Charles Street. There, folding his arms, he fixed his ejes upon the gunner who stood, lanyard in hand, ready for action. Here he re- mained without once looking up or moving, until the flag had been hauled down by Lieutenant Kantz, and he and Captain Bell reappeared As they passed out through the Camp Street gate, Mr. Monroe turned towards the hall, and rhe people, who had hitherto preserved the silence he had asked from them, broke into cheers for their Mayor." M.\RI0N A. B.\KER, in July (iSS6) Century. A NOBLE man ! a man deserving trust. A man in whom the higher elements Worked freely. A man of dignity ; On whom the robes and badge of state sat well Because the majesty of self-control, And all its grace, were i. I see him now — Pale with the pallor of a full, proud heart — Descend those steps and take his imminent place Before the deadly piece, as who should say " 'Ware ye ! these people are my people ; such Their mward heat and mine at this poor deed That scarce we can control our kindled blood. ii I I Iih: M "I- ; 96 POEMS. If; i ml ! But should ye mow tliem down, ye mow me too. 'Ware ye!" O men for whose dear sake he stood An offering and a hostage ; on that scroll Old Chronos doth unfold along the years Are writ in gold names of undaunted Mayors, Pepin and Charlemagne, and Whittington And White. Did not your fathers know them ? And shall not he, your Mayor of 'Sixty-two, Monroe, stand side by side with them ? v« THE emigrant's SONG. U7 THE EMIGRANT'S SONG. I. No work, no home, no wealtJi liave I, But Mary loves me true, And, for her sake, upon my knees I'd beg the wide world through : For her sweet eyes look into mine With fondness soft and deep ; My heart's entranced, and I could die Were death a conscious sleep. II. But life is work, and work is life, And life's the way to heaven. And hand-in-hand we'd like to go The road that God has given. And England, dear old Motherland, Has plenty mouths to feed Without her sons and daughters fair. Whose strength is as their need. III. To Canada ! To Canada ! To that fair land I'll roam. And till the soil with heart of grace. For Mary and a home. Hurr£:h for love ! Hurrah for hooe ! Hurrah for industry ! Hurrah for bonnie Canada, And her bonnie maple tree ! 98 I POEMS. TO THE INDIAN SUMMER. And art thou come again, sweet Indian maid ! How beautiful tliou art where thou dost stand, With step arrested, on the bridge that joins The Past and Future — thy one hand waving Farewell to Summer, whose fond kiss hath set Thy yellow cheeks aglow, the other stretched To greet advancing Winter ! Nor can thy veil, tissue diaphanous Of crimsoned haze, conceal thy lustrous eyes ; — Those eyes in whose dark depths a tear-drop lurks Ready to fall, for Beauty loved and lost. • From thy point gazing, maiden, let us, too, Once more behold the panorama fair Of the lost year. See where, far down yon slope That meets the sun, doth quick advance gay Spring, His dainty fingers filled with swelling buds: O'er his wreathed head, among the enlacing trees, The merry birds flit in and out, to choose A happy resting-place ; and singing rills Dwell on his praise. Gladly his laughing eyes Rest on fair Summer's zone set thick with flowers, That chide their own profusion as, tiptoe, And arm outstretched, she reaches to restore The fallen nestling, venturous and weak : While many a nursling claims her tender care. Beneath her smile all Nature doth rejoice, And breaks into a song that sweeps the plain \\'here now the swarthy Autumn, girded close, Gathers his yellow sheaves and juicy fruit To overflowing garners ; measure full. And blest to grateful souls. Tlnough the low air ^ilf TO THE INDIAN SUMMER. A myriad wings circle in restless sort ; And from the rustling woods there comes a sound Of dropping nuts and acorns— welcome store To little c:hipmunk and to squirrel blithe : Dependants small on Nature's wide largesse. How doth the enchanting picture fill ou^'r souls With faith ! Sweet Indian maid, we turn with thee And greet gray Winter with a trustful smile. 99 Si* ji ' 111' i f '?■ ! ■ ■ 100 POEMS. IN JUNE. '■■in I I rl I CANNOT sleep, and mornings earliest light, All soft and rosy, tempts my restlessness To ask from Nature what of peace she gives. I gaze abroad, and all my soul is moved :\t that strange calm that floats o'er earth at rest. The silver sickle of the summer moon Hangs on the purple east. The morning star, Like a late watcher's lamp, pales in the dawn. Yonder, the lake, that 'neath the midday sun All restless glows and burns like burnished shield. Lies as a child at rest with curtain drawn. The forest trees are still. The babbling creek Flows softly through the copse and glides away ; And the fair flowers, that lie as thick and sweet As posies at a bridal, sleep quietly. No early breeze his perfumed wings unfolds. No painted butterfly to pleasure wakes. The bees, whose busy hum pervades the hours Through all the sultry da}-, keep yet the hive. And, save the swallow, whose long line of works Beneath each gable, points to labours vast, No bird yet stirs. Upon the dewy mead The kine repose ; the active horse lies prone ; And the white ewes doze o'er their tender lambs. Like village mothers with their babes at breast. So still, so fair, so calm, the morning broods, That, winle I know the gairish day will come, And bring its clouds of gnat-like stinging cares., Rest steals into my heart, and gentle peace. LIVINGSTONE. 101 LIVINGSTONE. OBIIT MAV 1ST, 1883, Slki:p now and take thy rest, tlioii nii^^hty dead ! Thy work is done — thy grand and glorious work. Not " Caput Nih " shall thy trophy be. But broken sluve-sticks and a riven cliain. As the man Moses, thy great prototype, Snatched, by the hand of God, his groaning millions' From out the greedy clutch of Egypt's despot; So hast thou done for Afric's toiling sons : Hast snatched its peoples from the poisonous fangs Of hissing Satan, veiled in commerce foul. For this thy fame shall ring ; for this thy praise Shall be in every mouth for ever. Ay, Thy true human hv-rart hath here its guerdon — A continent redeemed from slavery. — To this, how small the other ! Yet 'twas great. Ah, not in vain those long delays, those groans Wrung from thy patifent soul by obstacle, The work of peevish man ; these were the checks From that Hand guiding, that led thee all tiie way. He willed thy soul should vex at tyranny; Thine ear should ring with murdered women's shrieks. That torturing famin'e should thy footsteps clog ; That captive's broken hearts should ache thine own. And Slavery — that villain plausible — That thief Gehazi !— He stripped before thine eyes And showed him all a leper, foul, accursed. He touched thy lips, and every word of thine Vibrates on chords whose deep electric thrill ! , 1 Hi! h i ■i '■v> i\ iil vr 102 POEMS. r i' Shall never cease till that wide wound be healed. And then He took thee home. Ay, home, great heart ! Home to His home, where never envious tongue, Nor vile detraction, nor base ingratitude, Nor cold neglect, sliall sting the quiv'ring heart. Thou endedst well. One step from earth to Heaven, When His voice called " Friend, come up higher." I ii! THE QUEKN AND THE CRIMEAN SOLDIERS. loa ON SEEING THE ENGRAVING THE FIRST VISIT OF QUEEN VICTORIA TO HER WOUNDED SOLDIERS ON THEIR RETURN FROM THE CRIMEA." H I ! Yes, go to them, the brave, the tried, the hurt — 'Tis very fitting so ! We cannot go — Some scores of milhon souls— to tell them all We think and feel : To ease the burden of our laden hearts ; To give the warm grasp of our British hands In strong assurance of our praise and love ; Of our deep gratitude, to them, our friends. Our brothers, who for us toiled, suffjred, bled : And left, as we, their dead upon the field, Their comrades tried and true, around Scutari. Go to them, then, dear Queen, 'tis very fitting so ! Thy hand can clasp for ours. Thy voice express Our hearts. We send thee as our best, as so we ought ; We send thee as our dearest, as thou art ; We send thee our elect, perfect to fill The office thou hast chosen for our sakes. A gentle woman thou, and therefore tender : — A loving wife, and therefore sympathetic : — A mother, thou, and therefore patient : — Is there a son among those wounded men Has made his mother sad ? Thy tear will soften him. Is there a husband kept from wife and bairns ? Thy smile will comfort him. Is there a lonely one with none to love ? He'll warm beneath thy glance, his dear Queen's glance ; And — soldiers all — they 11 all forget their pains, And long to fight again, even to fall, for thee. hi 1 i'v WT' II If 7>»'? If: I') : 104 roEMS. Anci it for thee, for us ; us, who would clasp Their thin worn hands in ours, and smile our thanks, And speak our praise of them, and heal their wounds With gentlest care, each for himself, if so We might thus ease '.r o'er-full hearts. Yet happy are we stiL in this, nay, happier, — Thou being that our best: our dearest; Oitr elect ; perfect epitome Of all ive would — that thou dost go to them. 'I ' II; I' W' Great Western Hotel, Liverpool, June 9, r-':8o. \ TO A CHILD. 105 i TO A CHILD SINGING "JESUS LOVES MR, THIS I KNOW. Sing, little darling, sing, And may thy song be everlasting ! Not all the learning wits and sages boast Can equal the sweet burden of thy song ; — Can yield such rest amid life's noisiest strife ; — Such peace to still the spirit's wildest wars ; — Such hope to stem the most tumultuous wave May threat to overwhelm. The love of Jesus, — ■ Sweet, having this thoo. risest far above All this world's clouds, and catchest glimpse of Heaven. Did He who blest That infant band that crowded round His knee, See, in a face like thine, a tender memory Of that dear home He left for our sakes ? It may be ; nay, it must : " Of such,"' He said, "My Father's kingdom." And His great heart Went out in fondest tones : His soft embrace Encircling such as thou, thrilled out that love That vibrates yet, and still enfolds so warm His tender lambs. Sing, little darling, sing, And may thy song be everlasting. I .■ ^ill 106 rOEMS. HOME. The morning sun shona soft and bright, The air was pure and clear, My steady steps fell quick and light. Nor knew my soul a fear. For though the waj' was long and cold, The end I knew not where, Hope's vivid pictures made me hold To wait, or do, or dare. But ah, the change when evening gray Curtained a cloudy sky, And languid, I retraced the way My feet could scarce descry ! By rugged care my heart was bruised, Hope's rainbow tints were gone ; To this world's watch and ward unused, I could but stumble on. The rough wind's breath, the dark sky's frown Fell like the stroke of wrath, When — from above a star looked down — A ray beamed on my path. The light of Home — oh, blessed light — To weary wanderers dear ! The light of Heaven, oh, glorious light To souls that stumble here ! What matters now the weary road, My toil shall soon be o'er ; And, oh, at last, at home with God Life's cares shall cark no more. Be this my hope ! Be this my aim ! Though rough the road may be. Thy feet, blest Jesus, trod the same, And I would follow Thee. LOST WIIU HIS r.OAl. 107 LOST WITH HIS BOAT. Alone — alone ! I sit, and make- my iiioaii. The fire l)urns low, the candle flickers dim. Alone- alone ! I rock, and think (:s. INVOCATION TO RAIN. MAY, 1H74. i O BLESSED anj^^el of the All-bounteous King, Where dost thou stay so long ? Our sad hearts pine, Our spirits faint, for thee. Our Aveary eyes Scan all the blue expanse, where not a cloud Floats low to rest our vision. In vain we turn Or East or West, no vap'rous haze, nor view Of distant panorama, wins our souls To other worlds. All, all is hard and scant. Thy brother Spring is come. His favourite haunts the sheltering woods betray — The woods that, dark and cheerless yet, call thee. Tender hepaticas peep forth, and mottled leaves Of yellow dog's tooth vie with curly fronds Of feathery fern, in strewing o'er his path ; The dielytra puts her necklace on, f Of pearly pendants, topaz-tipped or rose. Gray buds are on the orchard trees, and grass Grows up in single blades and braves the sun. But thou !• — O, where art thou, sweet early Rain, That with thy free libations fiU'st our cup? The contemplative blue-bird pipes his note From off the ridge cap, but can find no spot Fit for his nest. The red-breast on the fence Explores the pasture with his piercing eye. And visits oft the bushes by the stream. But takes no mate. For why ? No leaves or tufts Are there to hide a home. Oh what is earth Without a home ? On the dry garden bed, INVOCATION TO RAIN. Ill The sparrow — the hltle immigrant bird — Hops quick, and looks askance, And pecks, and chirps, asking for kindly crumbs — Just two or tliree —to feed his Httlc mate : Then, on return from some email cunning nook Where he has hidden her, he mounts the wires, Or garden fence, and sings a happy song Of home, and other days. A-missing thee The husbandman goes forth with faltering step And dull sad eye ; his sweltering team pulls hard The lab'ring plough, but the dry earth falls back As dead, and gives nor fragrant fume, nor clogs The plough-boy's feet with rich encumb'ring mould. The willows have a little tender green, And swallows cross the creek — the gurgling creek Now fallen to pools — but, disappointed, Dan away co swift, and fly so high We scarce can follow them. Thus all th.e land Doth mourn for thee. Ah! here thou comest, sweet Rain. Soft, tender Rain ! benison of the skies ! See now, what transformation m thy touch ! Straight all the land is green. The blossoming trees Put on their bridal wreaths, and veil their charms From the too ardent sun, beneath thy gift Of soft diaphanous tissue, pure and white As angel's raiment. Little wood children Deck all the path with flowers. The teeming earth Offers rich gifts. The little choristers Sing ceaseless hymns, and the glad husbandman Adds his diapason. Bright fountains wake And mingle with the swift roulade of sticams. The earth is full of music ! Thou dost swing Thy fragrant censer high, and dwellers in The dusty city raise their toil-worn heads From desk and bench, and cry " Summer is here !" mi m m 112 POEMS. And straight they smell new liay and c1ov(m- l)looms ; And see the trout swift-darting in the brooks ; And hear the plover whistling in the fields. And little children dream of daisy chi'ins ; And pent-up youth thinks of a holiday ; A holiday with romps, and crea (, and flowers. O, Rain ! O, soft, sweet Rain ! O liberal Rain ! Touch our hard hearts, that we ma}- more become Like that Great Heart, whose almoner art thou. c lit ■* RKMONSTRANCK WIIH " RKMONSTRANCE. 113 rp:monstranck wrni 'RKMonstranck." (in "CANADIAN MONrill.V," AI'KII., 1874.) Why now, swet l Alice, thoiij^h tli)- nuiiihcrs ring Like silver bells, methinks their burden wrong. For if 'tis right, then were the hermits right, And all recluses. And He was wrong Who gave to Adam, Eve ; and leanc' upon The bre >f John the loved. So was lie wrong To love . , gentle home at Bethanv, . The sisters, and their brother Lazarus. So was He wrong to weep at Lazarus' grave, Pity's hot tears for Sin, aad Death, and Woe. And in that awful hour when mai.hood failed And God forsook, He still was wrong to think With tenderest solicitude and c.in^ Upon his mother, and leave her in the charge Of John. And He was wrong who gave us hearts To yearn, and sensibilities to meet Those " clinging tendrils" thou wouldst have us cut. If thou art right, sweet AUce, There were no ties of infancy, or age ; Of consanguinity ; or noble bond Of wide humanity, or sacred home : For without love, — e'en our poor earthly love,— The world were dead. Love is the silver cord, that, being loosed. The fabric of humanity falls wide In hopeless wrack. Well for us it is Tliat when our nature, hurt, falls, shrieking, down, The Great Physician's hand may raise it up I ii 114 FOKMS. And bind the wound. But what mad folly 'twere Did we, like peevish child, beat down the hand. And tear afresh the wound. And this we do When of our morbid selves we idols make, And cry " No sorrow like to mine." O rather should we turn our tenderer hearts — Made gentler by our griefs— to gentle cares For weak Humanity, and, knowmg what woe Our sinful nature brings upon itself, With God-like pity love it but the more. IM * THK AUSKNT ONLS. H5 THE ABSENT ONES. How I miss their faces ! Faces that I love. Where I read the traces Heart and soul approve. Traces of their father Scattered here and there ; Here a little <,^esture, There a twist of hair. Brave and generous Bertie, Sweet and quiet Fred, Tender-hearted Jackie, Various, but true-bred. j il : ■■ ! i. How I miss their voices Raised in laughter gay ; And in loving blessiuir When they go to pray. Even of their quarrels Miss I now the noise. Angry or disdainful, (What are they but boys ?) Shouting in the garden. Spurring on the game, Calling a companion By some favourite name. How I miss the footsteps. Lightsome, loud, or slow Telling by their echo How the humours go. 116 POEMS. Laggiuj; when the)''re la7-\', Running wlien they're nild, Leaping when thej'Ve ghidsonie, Walking when they're mild. Footsteps, voices, faces. Where are ye to-niglit ? Father, keep my darlings Ever in Tiiy sight. AWAV. 117 AWAY. On, where are all ihe madcaps gone ? Why is the house so drear and lone ? No merry whistle wakes the day, Nor evening rings with jocund play. No clanging bell, with hasty din, Precedes the shout, " Is Bertie in ?" Or - Where is Fred ? " " Can I see Jack ? "' " How soon will he be coming back ? Or " Georgie asks may I go out," He has a treasure just found out." The wood lies out in all the rain, No willing arms to load are fain ; The weeds grow thick among the flowers, And make the best of sunny hours ; The drums are silent ; hfes are mute ; No tones are raised in high dispute ; No hearty laughter's cheerful sound Announces fun and frolic round. Here's comic Alan's wit wants sport ; And dark-eyed Bessie's quick retort Is spent on Nellie, mild and sweet ; And dulness reigns along the street. The table's lessened numbers bring No warm discussion's changeful ring. Of hard-won goal, or slashing play. Or colours blue, or brown, or gray. The chairs stand round like rows of pins ; No hoops entrap unwary shins ; No marbles— boyhood's gems— roll loose ; And stilts may rust for want of use ; No book-bags lie upon the stairs ; Nor nails inflict three-cornered tears. I- J ; i(! ! 1^ ( < \ IH ■jlr f III I 4i 118 POEMS. Mamma may lay her needle clown, And take her time to go up town ; Albeit, returning; she may miss The greeting smile antl meeting kiss. But hark ! what message cleaves the air, From skies where roams the Greater Bear ! " Safe, well, and happy, here are we, Wild as young colts and just as free ! With plenteous hand and kindly heart, Our hosts fulhl a liberal part. Nor lack we food to suit the mind. Our alma-mater here we find, And in her agricultural school We learn to farm b}' modern rule ; Professor Walter fills the chair, But teaches in the open air. And by his side we tend the stock, Or swing the scythe, or buid the shock. Nor miss we academic lore, We walk where Plato walked before, And eloquent Demosthenes, \\'ho taught their youth beneath the trees ; Here with sharp eyes we love to scan The rules that point Dame Nature's plan, We mark the track of bear and deer. And long to see them reft of fear. — Though well they shun our changeful moods. Taught by our rifle in the woods. Yet we may tell of mercy shown. Power unabused, the birdling flown, — When caught b}^ thistly gossamer — Set free to wing the ambient air. Cautious we watch the gliding snake, 'Neath sheltering stone, or tangled brake, And list the chipmunk's merry trill Proclaim his wondrous climbintr skill. AWAV. Tlie bird ; the beast ; the insect ; all In turn onr various tastes enthrall ; The fish ; the rock ; the tree ; the flower; Yield to (juick observation's power. And many a treasure swells our store Of joys for days when youth is o'er. Our glowing' limbs we love to lave Beneath the lake's translucent wave, Or on its heaving bosom ride In merry boat ; or skilful guide The light canoe, with balanced oar, To yonder islet's pebbly shore. Sometimes, with rod and line, we try The bass's appetite for fly ; Well pleased if plunge or sudden dart Try all our piscatorial art ; And shout with joy to see our catch Prove bigger than we thought our match. Oft when the ardent sun at noon Proclaims his power, we hide full soon Within the cool of shady grove. Or, gathering berries, slowly rove And often when the sun goes down. We muse of home, and you in town ; And had we but a carrier dove We'd send her home with loads of love." ill 1 M 120 POEMS. POOR J OK. Hp: cannot dance, you say, nor sing, Nor troll a lilting stave; And when the rest are cracking jokes He's silent as the grave. Poor Joe ! I know he cannot sing — His voice is somewhat harsh : But he can whistle loud and clear As plover in the marsh. Nor does he dance, but he would walk Long miles to serve a friend, And though he cares not crack a joke, He will the truth defend. And so, though he for company May not be much inclined, I love poor Joe, and think his home Will be just to my mind. [RAGMEN IS. 121 KRAGMKNTS. '•I WISH YOU A HAl'PY NKVV YKAR. A HAi'i'Y year, svvcct as the breatli of flowers ; A merry year, <;lacl as the soiij,' of birds, A jocund year, gay as brown harvest hours ; A prosperous year, rich, as in flocks and herds. I li i TlIK LIFE-BOAT MAN. When the loud mitnite gun alarms the night, And plunging waters hide the bark from sight, When lurid lightnings threat, and thunders roll, And roaring tempests daunt the trembling soul — 'Tis thine, O Life-boat Man, such fears to brave, And snatch the drowning from a watery grave. v; ! II " I AM learning the stitch," the lover said As over her work he bent his head. But the scene spake plain to the mother's eye *' I am watching these busy fingers ply." And ever anon when a stitch she'd miss, 'Twas because he bent lower her hand to kiss. Oh tender lover, and busy maid. May the sweet enchantment never fade ; Nor the thread of life, though a stitch may miss. Know a break that may not be joined by a kiss. TIIK SVVKET GIRL GRADUATE. A COMF DY IN FOUR ACTS. ACT I. « SciJNE I. — SfMtfO/,', The breakfast-room in the house of Bloc.os, a 7vcalthy Scutros; merchant. At the table, Kate, his daughter, reading a letter. Kate (in much indignation ). Refused ! I knew it ! The crass ingratitude of haughty man, Vested in all the pride of place and power, Brooks not the aspirations of my sex, However just. Is't that he fears to yield, Lest from his laurelled brow the wreath shoulil fall And light on ours ? We may matriculate, And graduate — if we can, but he excludes « Us from the beaten path he takes lumself. The sun-lit heights of steep Parnassus Reach past the clouds, and we below must stay ; Not that our alpen-stocks are weak, or that Our breath comes short, but that, forsooth, we wear The Petticoat. Out on such trash ! Enter Mr. Bloggs. Mr. Bloggs. Why, what's the matter, Kate ? Kate. Not much, papa, only I am refused Admission to the college. Sapient says The Council have considered my request, And find it inconsistent with the rules Of discipline and order to admit Women within their walls. A CO.MKDV, 1 23 iVr. /i. I thouj^'ht they'll say so. Now be satisfied ; You've stuJieil iiard. Have made your mark upon The honoui list. Have passed your second year. Let that suffice. You know enougli to wed, And Gihnour there would j,'ive his very head To have you. (ict married, Kate. Kate. Papa, you vex me; Ciilmour has no chance And that I'll let him know. Nor have I spent My youth in studious sort to give up now. Mr, Bl(> ! Kate. True ; but it must be done, and you must help. [Exeunt. Scene 3. — The same room. Evening. Kate alone. Kate. Not let me in ! We'll see. I'll beat 'em yet. To think that down in Canterbury, girls. Like my poor self, have had the badge bestowed That I so fondly covet. To think that they Enjoy the rights I ask, and have received The Cambridge University degree, B.A. Not only wear the gown and cap As college students, but the hood. The hootl ! And shall Macaulay's proud New Zealander Thus sit on me ? Not if I know it. No ! I'll don the dreadful clothes, and cheat the Dons. [She goes to the ii-imlorv. The blinds are down, the shutters closed, the slats As well, surely no one can see. [She takes up a man's coat and looks at it, then the rest, then the punts. I'll do't ! [Invests herself in the masculine apparel. A knock ui the dour. She starts and turns pale. A Voice. Katie, dear ! Kate. Pshaw ! 'tis only Orphea ! m m hi I •1 1 i i 1 [She itnli'ck.s the door. 128 THK SWEET GIRL ORADTJATF. : B3,i (1)1 iiKisciilhie tones.) Come in, dear coz. V i, [Attempts to kiss Iter, hut receives a slap in the face. Orphea. How dare you, sir ! Oli ! let me out. Kate (in natural voice). Orphea, you goose ! Orphea. Oh, Kate, you thd so scare me ! Kate. And is it tlien a good disguise ? Orpliea. 'Tis poor old Tom again. Kate. But how essay it in the street and hall ? Orphea. Well, there's the gown to help. 'Twill cover all. Kate. And then the cap ? Ihit that I do not mind ; M\- Derby hat has used me to a style A trifle jaunty, and a hard stilT crown ; So if my hau- prove not too trying I yet may like to wear the " mortar-hoard," If still they wear such things. Orphea. Oh, Kate, it is an aw^ful risk ! Kate. Awful, my dear; but poor mamma Thinks I'm an awful girl. If she but knew — Yet might I plead that men and women oft Have done the same before ; poor Joan of Arc ; Portia ; and Rosalind. And I have heard That once Achilles donned the woman's garb : Then why not I the student's cap and gown ? A COMKDV. 129 ACT II. Scene r. — A bedroom in n Toronto hoardimr-ftousc. Katk Br.or.r.s /;; bed. M i Enter boardinfj-hoitse mistress. Kate. Yes, nursey, I'll he quicl>;, but mind )our words And looks, and do not niake mistakes. Nurse. Oh no. Miss Kate — or Mr. Christopher, As that's the name you've chose, I'll not mistake. Kate. And always mind and keep in)' room, My time and libert}-, intact, and so You'll make it easier for me to obtain By surreptitious means, the rights I should Enjoy in happier sort. Nurse. I'll do my best, Miss Kate. [Exit Nursp, Kale (in masculine attire, about to descend to tJw breakfast tabic, turns once more to the mirror). Oil, Harberton, Hadst thou but taught the world The beauty of thy new divided skirt Ere I was iiorn, this had not now been thus. This blush, that burns my cheek, had long been past ; These t'embling limbs, that blench so from the light. Had gotten strength to bear me manfull}'. Oh for the mantling night, when city fa- Thers save the gas, and Luna draws Iht veil ! [She sits down on a box. Away, weak tears ! I must be brave and show myself a man. Nay, more, a student, rollicking and ga)'. Would I could feel so ! (Sniffs at the air. J Somebody smokes, And before breakfast ; pah, the nasty things! Would I could smoke ! They say some women do ; Drink toddy, too ; and I do neither : That's not like a man ; I'll have to learn. m I I KM r , 130 THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE : But no ! my soul revolts ; I'll risk it. Surely there are among a studious l)ancl Some who love temperance and godly life. That's the crowd I'll join. They will not plunge into Those dreadful orgies that the Globe describes, Of men half-tight with lager and old rye, Who waylay freshmen and immerse them in The flowing wave of Taddle. Horrors I Why, I shall he a freshman ! If they touch me I'll scream ! ah — ha, I'll scream ! Scream, and betray my sex ? No, that won't do ; At Rome I'll have to be a Roman ; And, to escape that dread ordeal, I Shall cringe and crawl, and in the presence of A fourth year man step soft and bow. And smile if he but condescend to nod. Oh, yes, I'll do't. In tableaux once I played Uriah Heep, and made the character So " "umble " and so crawly, that for days I loathed my hands, and slapped my fingers well For having knuckles. Thus will I to the tyrant play the slave. An old antitliesis. [So)tu' one calls at the door. Yes, yes, I'm coming, Hannah. Now for that dreaded step yclept the first, Pray Heaven it may cost most ; but that I doubt. {Descends to the breakfast table. I? 1 1 1 m II i n if H n 1 fflr ii *-»«*f A COMEDY. i;vi ACT III. ScENK I. — Tin- same as Scene 2, Aet r. Miss Orf'HEA Blagc-.s solus, readiuii a letter. OrpJiea ( rf.'itli jL)7('crs and plants. TjviHfy >riii(liiiitii, aiiiuii.^ whom is Mr. Tom C'liristophtT, i-acli accoinp(tnyi)ifr a lady, on- of whom is Miss Hlaggs. The cloth is ilra->'n, and dessert is on the tabic. I Mr. Biggs, B.A. (Tor. Univcr.), on his feci. Ah — ladies and gentlemen, here's to our host, And rising, as thus, to propose him a toast, I think of the days which together In shade, and in sunshine, as chums we have passed. In love, and esteem, that forever must last. Let happen what will to the weather. In short, ladies and gentlemen, I have to propose tlie everlast- ing health and welfare of our host, who should have been our honoured guest but for that persistent pertinacity he exhibited in the matter, and which lie does himself the injustice to call womanish. But I am sure, ladies and gentlemen, no one but himself ever accused our esteemed host of being womanish, and when we look upon the high standing he has achieved in our Universit}', the honour he confers on his Alma INIater by his scholarly attainments and the gentlemanly character he has won among all sorts of students, I am sure, ladies and gentle- men, we should be doing great injustice to you all were we for one moment to admit that he could be other than he is, an honour to Toronto University, and a credit to his sex. I am quite sure the ladies are at this moment envying the happ)- woman whom he will at no distant date probably distinguish with his regard, and it must be satisfactory to ourselves, gentle- men, to know that it lies in our power, as the incumbents of academic honours, to be able to bestow that reversion of them on those who, having all the world at their feet, need not sigh for the fugitive conquests that demand unceasing toil and an unlim- ited amount of gas or coal-oil. Ladies and gentlemen, I call i II ■ 1 '1 w 'fP; !?: Wf' 134 TllIC SWKET Glkl, (JKADUATE: upon you to fill your sparklin;:,' j^lasses to the honour of our host and collej^e chum, Mr. Tom Christopher. And here's with a hip, hip, iiooray ! and hands all round ! ^//.— Hip. hip! Hurrah! [TrcmcnduHS clieeritifj and cimkiiiir of glasses. Several are broken, and the fxeitement eonseqiteiitly siihsides. Mr. Tout Christopltcr. — Ladies and },'entleinen, I thank you much. For these your loving words. A third year man, I came upon you fresh from nowhere ; This in itself a warranty for cold And hard suspicion ; hut you received Me with some warmth, and made me one of you, Chaffed me, and sat on me, and lent me books. And offered pipes, and made inquiries kind About my sisters ; and Time, who takes Men kindly by the hand, made us warm friends. And knit us in a love all brotherly. Many Voices. — Ves, brothers ! brothers ! we are brothers all ! A Voice. — And sisters ! Mr. Tom. — I would say sisters too, but that I fear My lady guests would think I did presume ; But yet 1 know, and knowing it am proud, That most men here to-night would welcome ail The sweet girl-graduates that would fill the list Did but the College Council set aside A foolish prejudice, and let them in. And now, I know a girl who long has worked To pass the exams, take the proud degree I hold to-day, and yet her petticoat Forbade. Several Voices. — Name ! Name ! A toast ! A toast ! Mr. Tom. — I wdl not name her, gentlemen, but bring Her to your presence, if you so incline ; First begging that you will not let surprise Oust self-possession, for my friend's a girl I A COMEDY, 1 .{-» Of timid temper, thou^'h she's bold to act If duty calls. Many Voices. — Your friend ! Your friend ! Mr. . out. — I go to fetch her, gentlemen ; dear ladies all, I beg your suffrages of gentle eyes And kindly smile to greet my guest. [Exit Mk. Tom Chris ioi'iikk. U i I Scene 2. — The same. Enter Miss Kate Bloggs in full dinner toilet of Reseda silk, and curryinf^ a dandelion and lily bouquet. Miss Bldggs. — My cousin I oii, my cousin ! [Rushes excitedly fonvard and falls into hysterics on Miss Hloggs' neck. The company <^athir round in ^reat surprise. Miss B. — Dear Orphea ! Orphca, my dear ! oh, water, gentle- men ! Lay her upon the coucii. See ! see ! she gasps ! Orphea, dear girl ! ^The ladies are much alarmed, hut Miss Blaggs soon irives signs of recovery, and sits up. Orphea (in tears). — Oh, Kate ! it struck me so to see you once again as you were wont to be ; those nasty ugly pants forever gone, and you a girl again. Kate. — Dear friends, you look surprised. Pray Heaven you'll not look worse when you know all. 1 am indeed a girl, though you have known Me hitherto as Thomas Christopher. Four years ago I passed the exams, for Us women, at your University. Once more I passed. But when again I would, I stumbled for the teaching that is chained — Like ancient scripture to the reading desk — Within your College walls. No word of mine Could move the flinty heads of College Council. ' ! ., ■» 1 :W) THE SWKKT GIRL OKAUUAIE : Order and discipline forbade, they said, That A'oiiK'n should sit side by side with men Within their walls. At church, or concert, or At theatre, or ball, no separation 's made Of sexes. And so I, bcin^ a <^[t\ Of firm and independent mind, resolved To do as many a one beside has done For lesser prize, and, as a man, sat at The feet of our Gamaliels until I {^ot The learninj,' that I love. That I may now Look you all in the face without a blush, save that Which naturally comes at having thus To avow my hardihood, is praise, I trow, \'o>i will not think unworthy; and to me It fc^rms a soft remembrance that will ever dwell Within my j^rateful heart. Can you forgive me ? MdiiY Voices. — We do, we must. All honour to the brave i Speak for us, Biggs. Mr. Blc;gs. — I cannot speak, except to ask the lady's pardon For our rough ways. Kate. — No ; pardon me. Many Voices. — No ! no ! we ask your pardon. Kntc. — If that, indeed, as I n^ ■*■ need believe From all your looks, you do r .le me much, Endue me with a favour. ..is : — Let every man and woni re to-night Look out for those petitions that will soon Be placed in many a store by those our friends Who in this city form a ladies' club, And each one sign. Nay more, to show you mean What I, with swelling heart have often heard You strongly urge, the rights of women to The College privileges, get all your friends To sign. Do what your judgment charges you To help so good a cause, and let the lists Of 1883 have no more names A COMF.DV. Set hy tlioinsel I vos as wonini. " "'""'''"ns stren^^th lu-fore tJie Par] t us po I'lment, 137 And ask our n^dUs iu surii a stirring, sort They shal be yielded. Then I shall knolv ^our brotherly and pleasant words mean fa.th And shall no more regret a daring act That else will fail of reason, ^^lay I thus trust ? ^//.— You may! You may. A./..-Then hands all round, my fru.ds, tdl break of day, ■ ■ i i ' I !■ I FABLES: ORIGINAL AND FROM THE FRENCH. If I i If FABLES: ORIGINAL AND FROM THE FRENCH THE CHOICE. f As fragrant essences from summer flowers, Steal, on aerial pinions, to the sense, So, on the viewless wing of rumour, sped A word that set the aviary on flame. " To-morrow comes the Prince," it said, " to choose A bird of gifts will grace the royal bower." O then began a fluttering and a fume — A judging each of all ! Pert airs and speech Flew thick as moulted feathers. Little heads Were tossed in lofty pride, or in disdain Were turned aside. For each bird deemed his own The merits that would ciiarm. One only sang To-day his d^ily song, nor joined the crowd In envious exultation. To him spoke Another of his kind. " Vain one, refrain That everlasting pipe, fit for a cage Behind some cotter's lattice, where thy gray And thickset form may shun the cultured eye. A word of warning, too — hide from the Prince." " Dear brother," cried the gray, " be not annoyed ; Who sees your elegance of form, and depth Of perfect colour, ne'er will notice me." The morrow came, — the Prince. Each bird essayed To please the royal taste, and many a meed Of praise was won and given — this for his hue ; — That for his elegance ; — another for si >l I 142 FABLES. ilis fascinating grace. Yet something lacked, Twas evident, andniany an anxious glance Betrayed the latent fear. " Yon little bird In quiet g^ay and green courts not my praise, Yet should a singer be," exclaimed the Prince, As with a critical and searching eye He scanned the small competitors for choice. Obedient to his governor, the bird Poured forth his song, oblivious of the crowd Of vain and envious round him, in whose eyes He stood contemptible. The Prince, entranced, Broke forth at length : " Nor hue, nor elegance, Nor fascinatioi., can outvie the gift Of genius. My choice is made." And to tlie great offence Of one bright bird, at least, the humble gray Became the roval treasure. 1 ;li INSINCERITY. 143 INSINCERITY. Tired of the narrow limits her assigned. Truth fled tlie earth ; and men were fain to j^rope In utter (kirkness. Blindly they blundered, And were long distraught, till on th(j horizon rose A luminosity, and in its midst A form. The}- crierl, '• "Tis Trutli ! fair Truth returned ! And thougii the light seemed dim, the form hut faint To that of other days, they worshippt-d it, And all things went along much as at fust. Until, born none knew whence, a doubt arose ; Grew strong ; and spake ; and pondering, men began To quest their goddess" claim. Then. tt)0, was set A secret watch, a covert test for proof; And one line day there rose a clamour, such As cheated mobs will make, when cunnint^ puts A veto on their chiim. For this mob found that, in her stolen guise Of softer beams, they had adored a cheat ; A make-believe ; a he. Immense their rage ! One aim inspired tiu'm all — To punish. Hut while they swaj'ed and tossed In wrathhil argunuMit on just Jesert, Fair Truth inde(;d appeareil, clatl in her robes Of glorious majesty. *' Desist, my friends," She cried ; " the executioner condign Of Insincerity, and your avenger, Is Time, my faithful henchman." il 144 I'AHLES. THE TWO TREES. FROM THE FRKNCH OF F. LE MAY. mp\ 1 !; ■ H : h|{l 1 . R jH; 1 I- '■ ■ ■ ; n 1 H !r,i- ■ i-i H ). Two trees, amid whose leafy shade The warbhnj^^» birds their vigils paid, Stood neighbours — eaeh as noble tree In height and girth as one nn'ght see. The one, sequestered in the vale. All sheltered from the boisterous gale. Had passed his days in soft repose ; The other from the cliff arose. And bore the brunt of stormy wind That lashed him oft in frenzy blind. A day there happed when from the north Aquilon drave his forces forth, And hurled them headlong on the rock Where, proudly poised to meet the shock, Our bold tree stood. In gallant might, He took the gage of proffered fight, And though in every fibre wrung, Kept every fibre still upstrung. "Thou tremblest !" cried the sheltered tree, "Thine own the folly ! Come to me. Here no wild tempest rocks our boughs — Scarce may it bend our haughty brov/s — Scarce may a breeze our branches kiss — From every harm a shelter this." THE TWO TRKES. No word repJied the storm-tried tree. But, wrestlin^^ for the mastery, He bowed and straightened, writhed and shook. And hrmer of the rock lie took A ti^ditenin^^ chitch with ^aip of steel, Nor once the storm-fiend made him reel ; And when his weary foe passed by, Still towered he proudly to the sk>-. Then tiirou-h the vale the win-cd blast For the first time in fury passed. As thr6u-h npe ,t(rain the sickles go, Widespread he scattered fear and woe • Prone fell the tree— so safe before— 'Mid ruin dire, to rise no more. He cannot fall who knows to fight With stern adversit}- aright. But soon is laid the victim low, That knows not how to ward a blow. 145 i .1 '■■ !! i ■■':W 111 [. \: 1 ' 4G I'AIU.F.S m ■ /'HP' til FABLE AND TRUTH. Simply atliretl in Nature's strictest garb, Fair Truth emerged from out her sheheriug well ; Hut Time so uiany of Jier charms had touched That age and youth befon- her presence fled : And no asylum showed an ojx'U door ( )f welcome to the waif of shivering limb. Sudden upon her sight a vision lircaks — (iay Fable richlv rol)('d, and pranked withal In plumes and jewels — mostly false 'tis true, But bright enough. "Ah, is it you, my friend ? How do ?"" quo" shr. •• but why upon the road. " And all alone ? " "You see I freeze," says Truth, " And yet of thtise who pass I but implore A simple shelter, but I frighten them. Alas ! I see an aged woman gains But small consideration ! " "Younger than I," Saith Fable, '■ are you ? Yet I may aver, Without conceit, that everywhere 1 am received with joy. But Mistress frulh, Why did you brave the light in such scant robe ? Twasmost ill-judged. Come, let's arrange for both, Since the same end is aim for me as you ; Get 'neath my cloak, and we'll together walk. Thus, for your sake, I shall not by the wise Be buffeted ; and for my sake, you shall Be well received among the simpler sort. Thus every one his proper taste may suit. And by these means each shall her end attain, Thanks to your sense, and my amusing speech. And you will see, my sister, everywhere We shall be well received, in company." — Flonnn. I'HK CALIPH. 147 THE CALIPH In ancient days tJ.e Caliph Almamo,i A palace built in Bagdad, fairer far Ihan was the vaunted house of Soio.non. ihe portico a hundrerl columns f^rared Of purest alabaster, (lold an And beauty reigned oer all Near this abode, but .just b^vond the gate A simple cottage stood, ol.l and dilapidate,' T^^e home of a poor weaver. There, content With httle gain procured bv labour long \\'ithout a debt and thus beyond a care, The old man lived, forgotten perhaps, but free. His days all peaceful softh' wore away And he nor envied was, nor envyin- As hath been told, his small and mean retreat -' masked the palace crates. The Grand Vizier J Would pull it down, without f< Of law, or word of jrmaliti Commands to buv it fi grace. More just his lord They seek the weaver's be i"-st. To liear is to obey Th ese shalt thou hav iring bags of gold My workshop yields my " And for my house, I 1; Here was I born, and h No ; keep your lordly sum. needs, responds the man, lave no wish to sell • ere my father died ■5! ill I ■ 1 ' I r k 148 r\i!i>s. And here would I die too. The Caliph may, Should he so will, force me to leave the place And pull my cottac^e down, but siiould he so Each day would find me seated on the stone The last that's left, weepinp my misery. I know Almamon's heart ; "twill pity me." This hold reply the Vizier's choler raised ; He would the rascal j)unish, and at once Pull down the sorry hut. Not so the Caliph : " No ; while it stands my i^lory lives," saith he, " My treasure shall he taxed to make it whole ; And of my reif^n it shall be monument ; For when my heirs shall this fair palace mark They shall exclaim ' How <;reat was Almamon ! ' And when yon cottage 'Almamon was just !'" — Florid II. ■IHK HLIND MAN ANI> T'fK I'AKALYTIC. 141> THE JiLIND MAX AND TJIK PARALYTIC. KiNDi.v l(,i US help each other, Lif,'hter will our burden he, For the good vve do our brother Is a solace pure and hif,d),_ So Confucius to his people. To his friends, the wise Chinese, Oft affirmed, and to persuade them. Told them stories such as these :— In an Asiatic city Dwelt two miserable men,— Misery knows nor clime nor country. Haunts alike the dome or den— Pdind the one, the other palsied, Each so poor he prayed for dLath ; Vet he lived, his invocations Seeminj,^ nau«,dn but wasted breath. On his wrctclied mattress lying, ^ In the busy public square, See the wasted paralytic Suffermg more that none doth care. Butt for everybody's iiumour, Gropes the blind his devious way, Ouide, nor staff, nor helper has he, ' To supply the lights lost ray ; E'en a poor dog's willing service, Love, and guidance are denied ; Till one day his groping f^nds him' By the paralytic's side. There he hears the sufferer's moaning, And his very soul is moved. He's the truest sympathizer Who, like sorrow, erst has proved. m m ' ''ii )0 I'ABLES. • I have sorrows, tliou hast others, Brother, let us join our woes. And their rigours will be softened," Tiuis the blind began propose. Ah, my friend, thou little knowest That a step 1 cannot take ; Thou art blind ; what should we gain then Of two burdcius one to make ?" Why, now, brcjther, see how lucky, 'Twixt us both is all we lack : Thou hast eyes, be thou the guide then. Thee I'll carry on my back ; Thus without unfriendly question As to which bears heaviest load, I will walk for thee, and thou, friend. Choose for me the smoothest road." — Florictn. ■ 9 MB OKATH. f)| DEATH. On a set day. fell Death, queen of tlie uorld,- In hell assembled all her ^earful court That •,nonf,^st them she mi^dit choose a minister \\ oulounger son, Alter so much endeavour, having placed H.s second stage, cries out, '• Tis done ! " But he The elder, harshly chides his brother's ^lee Strikes the frail tenement, and so destroys ' The ruits of patient toil. The younger weeps : And then the lather thus: "Oh, my dear son. Ihy brother is the Founder of a realm Thou the fell Conqueror. '•— Fiona n 153 re. III to m 154 FABLES. THE BULLFLNCH AND THK RAVEN. In separate cafjes hung, the same kind roof Sheltered a bullfinch and a raven bold, The one with ■ .)ng mellifluous charmed the house ; The other's cries incessant wearied all. With loud hoarse voice he screamed for bread and meat And cheese ; the which they quickly brought, in hope To stop thereby his brawling tongue. Tlie finch Did nouglit but sing, and never bawled and begged ; So they forgot him. Oft the pretty bird Nor food nor water had, and they who praised His song the loudest took the smallest care To fill his fount. And yet tliey loveci him well, But thought not on his needs. One day they found him dead within his cage, " Ah, horror ! and he sang so well ! " they cry, " What can it be he died of? 'Tis, indeed A dreadful pity. ' The raven still screamed on, and nothing lacked. — Fiorian. "»! THE WASP AND THE REE. 155 THE WASP AND THE REE. Within' the chalice of a flower A bee " improved the shining hour " Whom, when she saw, a wasp draw near. And sought to gain the fair one's ear With tender praise : " Oh, sister min'e- (l^or love and trust that name entwine)" But dl it pleased the haught)- hee, Who answered proudly: " Sisters '-we ? Since when, I pray you, dates the tie ? " With angry warmth the wasp's reply Came fuming forth-- Life-long, indeed. In semblant points all eyes may read The fact. Observe me if you please. Your wings, are they not such as these ? Mine IS your figure, mine your waist. And if you used with proper taste Vour sting, as I do, we agree In that." ^ ""Tistrue," replies the bee, liach bears a weapon ; in its use The difference lies. For fierce abuse. And insolence your dart doth serve Mine gives the chastisement that these deserve, irritate y irest friend I take good heed myself, but to defend iy « i •■-i! — Florin 11. i ^ TRANSLATIONS. I 1 .:;•'' ' •:'■ m f ■ S ■ Now, when His bag of stars he had deplete. When all the dark with orbs of fire was strown. The Sower found at bottom, 'twixt two folds, A little bit of shining sun, chipped off. And wondering, knowing not what sphere unknown Revolved in crimson space all incomplete. The great Creator, at a puft", spun off This tiny bit of sun far into space ; Then, mounting high up to His scarlet throne. Beyond the mist of thickly scattered worlds, Like a great crowned king whose proud eye burns At hearing from afar His people's voice. He listens. ■!^ 4 ' '' '•■ ;^. 1^ ^'1 it , I l' I 1 1G6 TRANSLATIONS. And He hears The mighty Allehaia of the stars, The choirs of glowing spheres in whirhng flood Of song £.nd high apotheosis, All surging to His feet in incense clouds. He sees eternity with rapture thrilled ; He sees in one prolonged diapason The organ of the universe, vehement, roll For ever songs of praise to Him, the Sower. But suddenly He pales. From starry seas A smothered cry mounts to the upper skies; It rises, swells, grows strong ; prevailing o'er All the ovation of t'^e jo3^ful spheres. From that dim atom of the chippt^d orb It comes ; from wretches left forsaken, sad, Who weep the Mother-star, incessant sought Anc never found from that gray point of sky. And the cry said "Cursed ! Cursed are we, the lost By misery led, a wretched pallid flock. Made for the light and tossed into the dark ! " We are the banished ones ; the exile band ; The only race whose eyes are filled with tears. And if the waters of our seas be salt, 'Twas our forefathers' tears that made them so. " Be He Anathema, the Sower of Light ! Be He Anathema whom worlds adore ! — If to our native star He join us not Be He accursed, through all creation cursed, for aye ! " Then rose the God from His great scarlet throne, And gen^e^ moved, weeping as we, He stretched His two bright arms over the flat expanse. And in a voice of thunder launched reply : — THR LEGEND OF THE EARTH„ " Morsel of Sun, calling thyself the Earth :- Chrysalidei on her grey bounds supine :— Humanity— sing ! for I give you Death, The Comforter, he who shall lead you back Safe to your Star of Light. 167 And this is why— lofty, above mishap, ■The Poet, made for stars of molten gold. Spurns earth ; his eyes fixed on the glowing heavens, Toward which he soon shall take his freer fli^rht. Ill P ' 168 TRANSLATIONS. p i k r I ( in I li THE EMIGRANT MOUXTAKXEER. FROM THE FRENXH OF CHATEAUBRIAND. How doth fond memory oft return To that fair vSpot where I was born ! My sister, those were happy days In lovely France. O, country mine, my latest gaze Shall turn to France ! Remember'st thou with what fond pride, Our lowly cottage hearth beside. She clasped us to her gladsome breast — Our dearest mother ; While on her hair so white, we pressed Kisses, together ? My sister, canst thou not recall Dore, that bathed the castle wall, And that old Moorish tower, war-worn And grey, From whence the gong struck out each morn The break of day. The tranquil lake doth mem'ry bring, Where swallows poised on lightest wing ; The breeze by which the supple reed Was bent, — The setting sun whose glory filled The firmament ? .ryr^^ THK EMIGRANT MOUNTAINEER. Rememberest thou that tender wife, Dearest companion of my hfe ? While gathering wild flowers in the grove So sweet, Heart dung to heart, and Helen's love Flew mine to meet. O gi\e my Helen back to me, My mountain, and my old oak tree ! Memory and pain, where'er I rove. Entwine, Dear country, with my heart's deep love Around thy shrine. 169 ti ^^^mmiMnpiMMi 170 TRANSLATIONS. .'■;:;'.«: FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADES." FROM THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO. When on the cliff, or in the wood I muse the summer evening by, And realize the v^oes of life, I contemplate Eternity. And through my shadow-chequered lot GOD meets my earnest, gazing eye ; As through the dusk of tangled boughs We catch bright glimpses of the sky. Yes, when at last Death claims her own, The spirit bursts the bonds of sense, And — like a nestling — in the tomb Finds pinions that shall bear her thence. VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE. 171 VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE. FROM THE PRHNCH OP PH,UPP™htHS, SIXTEENTH CENTURV. In my absence, though so short, You, Rosette, had changed your mind : Learnmg your inconstancy, I, another mistress find. Never more shall charms so free Gain ascendancy o'er me. We shall see, oh light Rosette, Which of us will first regret. While with tears I pine away. Cursing separation drear ; You, whr love by force of wont, Took another for your dear. Never vane all lightly hung", To the wind more swiftly swung. We shall see, oh vain Rosette, Which of us will first regret. ' Where are all those sacred vows,— All those tears at parting wept ? ' Can it be those mournful plaints Came from heart so lightly kept ? Heavens, that you so false could be ' Who shall trust you, cursed is he. We shall see, oh false Rosette, Which of us will first regret. ' 172 TRANSLATIONS. He who to my place has cHmbed, Ne'er can love you more than I ; And in beauty, love, and faith, You're surpassed I own with joy. Guard your new love lest he range. Mine, the darling, knows not change. Thus we put to proof, Rosette,. Which of us will first regret. NOTES. « ' ''i ■ ■Hi Bf ' H Hi[ ■ i ■> ! I ■ I; ■ NOTES. LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812. A DRAMA. Note i, page n. The simple heroic story thus enlarged into dramatic form is not unknown to the Canadian muse, but has been sung by several of her votaries, notablv by Miss Machar. of Kingston ; Mr. John Reade, of Montreal ; and Dr lake- way, of Stayner, " J Dr. Jakeway's verse is not so well known as it deserves to be. not only for us literary merit, but also for its patriotic fervour, the fervour of a true and loyal Canadian : I shall therefore be pardoned if I quote the closing stanzas of his " Laura Secord " : ^ " Braver deeds are not recorded. In historic treasures hoarded Than the cool and crafty snaring, Bv that band at Beaver Dam, of all the well-appointed foe. But we know if war should ever Boom again o'er field and river, And the hordes of the invader should appear within our land Far and wide the trumpets pealing Would awake the same old feeling, And again would deeds of daring sparkle out on every hand." Note 2, page 12. And Stony Creek was ours. of H ^?^r'". c "' """''' '° Auchinleck, p. 178 :-■■ Sir,-To your account of the battle of Stony Creek I would like to add a few particulars At eleven o'clock at night the Light Company and Grenadiers of the .oth were under arms; every flint was taken out and every charge was drawn. Shortly after we moved on in sections, left in front, the Light Company lead- ing the way towards the enemy's camp. I had been driven in that afternoon from Stony Creek, and was well acquainted with the ground. The cautious silence observed was most painful ; not a whisper was permitted ; even our 1'^ 176 NOTES. footsteps were not allowed to be heard. I shall never forj^et the agony caused to the senses by the stealthiness with which we proceeded to the midnight slaughter. I was not aware that any other force accompanied us than the Cirenadiers, and when we approached near the Creek, I ventured to whisper to Col. Harvey, ' We are close to the enemy's camp, sir.' ' Hush ! I know it,' was his reply. Shortly after a sentry challenged sharply ; Lieutenant Danford and the leading section rushed forward and killed him with their bayonets ; his bleeding corpse was cast aside, and we moved on with breath- less caution. A second challenge — who comes there ? — another rush and the poor sentinel is transfixed, but his agonized dying groans alarmed a third who stood near the watch fire; he challenged, and immediately fired and fled. We all rushed forward upon the sleeping guard ; few escaped ; many awoke in another world. The excitement now became intense; the few who had escaped fired as they ran and aroused the sleeping army. All fled precipitately beyond the Creek, leaving their blankets and knapsacks behind. " Our troops deployed into line and halted in the midst of the camp fires, and immediately began to replace their flints. This, though not a very lengthy operation, was one of intense anxiety, for the enemy now opened a most ter- rific fire, and many a brave fellow was laid low. We could only see the flash of the enemy's firelocks while we were perfectly visible to them, standing as we did in the midst of their camp fires. It was a grand and beautiful sight. No one who has not witnessed a night engagement can form any idea of the awful sublimity of the scene. The first volley from the enemy, coming from a spot as ' dark as Erebus,' seemed like the bursting forth of a volcano. Then again all was dark and still, save the moans of the wounded, the confused click ! click ! — noise made by our men in adjusting their flints, and the ring of the enemy's ramrods in reloading. Again the flash and roar of the musketry, the whistling of the bullets, and the crash of the cannon. ' Chaos has come again.' The anxious moments (hours in imagination) have passed ; the trembling excited hands of our men have at last fastened their flints ; the comparatively merry sound of the ramrod tells that the charge is driven home ; soon the fire is returned with animation ; the sky is illumined with continued flashes ; after a sharp contest and some changes of position, our men advance in a body and the enemy's troops retire. There were many mistakes made in this action, the two greatest were removing the men's flints, and halting in the midst of the camp fires ; this is the reason why the loss of the enemy was less than ours, their wounds were mostly made by our bayonets. The changes of position by different portions of each army in the dark accounts for the fact of prisoners having been made by both parties. I must give the enemy's troops great credit for having recovered from their confusion, and for having shown a bold front so very soon after their having been so suddenly and completely surprised. " Yours, A 49TH Man." NOTES. 177 ires, gthy ter- flash ding tiful any my, brth the ting the 1 of in ; at ells the me 3ps ere s is ere DHS ide ring sry Note 3, page 13. Friend Penn. Of this character, of whom the writer has made a somewhat free use. Col. Coffin says : " There is a tradition in the neighbourhood that Harvey himself having borrowed the garb and waggon of a Quaker" — of which sect there were many settled in Upper Canada at the time — " penetrated into the Ame- rican lines, selling potatoes and 'taking notes.' Those who can recall the commanding stature and bearing of the gallant officer maintain that tliis was the very last disguise in which he was likely to succeed. It is not impossible that some patriotic ' Friend ' really found a good market for his produce and valuable information for Harvey." Note 4, page 15. Hymn. An air to this hymn has been composed. Note 5, page 16. Pete and Flos. That the rights of the slave-holder had legal recognition in 1812 is not to be -doubted, and that nearly every family of any means or repute held slaves is certain. The Bill abolishing slavery in the British Dominions did not pass until 1832, when it was introduced by Lord Stanley (the late Earl of Derby). A strong feeling in favour of its abolition had however permeated society, in conse- quence of the powerful representations made on the subject, both in and out of the British Parliament, by Wilberforce and Clarkson, " who had successfully shown," says Hamilton in his " Outlines of the History of England," " that the effect of this iniquitous system was no less injurious to the moral condition of the people of England than it was to the physical well-being of the African race." That no ill-feeling towards their masters generally existed in Canada in the minds of the slaves may be fairly inferred from the fact that, at their own request, a coloured regiment was formed to assist in the defence of the ■country in 1812, and under Captain Runchey did good service at the Battle of Queenston Heights. In ths connection it is also to be remembered that large numbers of freedmen were to be found both in England and Canada — men who for faithful or special services had received the gift of freedom from their grateful and generous masters. That the Legislature of Upper Canada was free even at that early period to deal with its domestic questions is shown by the fact that in 1793 an Act was passed at Newark, " forbidding the further introduction of slaves into the province, and ordering that 'all slave children born after the gth of July in that year should be free on attaining the age of twenty-five.' " To this Act is due the fact that Canada was as early as 1800 a city of refuge for escaped islaves, numbers of whom found their way hither from Baltimore and Maryland. {See also Appendix.) ^J e>. ^^^, ^.. \^T.% IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 5? / o A %^ . ^^ .^'' ^ # '^ y. 1.0 I.I 1.25 1.4 M 2.2 1.8 1.6 # ^» '# m /a y ^ w\ ^ k te €> O^ « i ' l« t li 178 NOTES. Note 6, page i8. V^e'll have it Jhough, and mci, if Boerstler. It has generally been stated that Mr. Secord heard of the intended sur- prise of Fitzgibbon by accident. The facts of the case are, however, as related in the poem, Mrs. Smith, a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Secord, who yet survives, being the authority. Mrs. Smith states that with the insolence of the victorious invader, Dear- born's men came and went, ordered, or possessed themselves of, whatever they chose, and took every form of familiarity in the homes of the residents within their lines, and that it was fast becoming an anxious question with the farmers and others, what they should do for supplies if Dearborn were not ousted within the season. Note 7, page 19. — and fell a-talking, loud. As in defiance, of some private plan To make the British 'ill rS I '^ :■! ''i?f-' f -t ^ (.;.«;: j^f. 182 NOTES. that are not unknown, it appears that there was a Captain Mosier living at Newark in 1812, and commanding a '• ssel on Lake Ontario. Captain Mosier was of some service to the British Government, and on one occasion was able to be of special use in carrying off and concealing, until the mischievous effect was over, a somewhat hot-headed gentleman who in the arJorr of his loyalty had thought it his solemn duty to cross the river and bayonet the sentinel at Fort Niagara. NoTfi 13, page 27. — all is pretty quiet still Since Harvev st.uck them dumb at Stony Creek. Along the Lake bold Yeo holds them fast. And Erie-way, Bishopp and Evans back him, "On the withdrawal of the British troops, the battlefield of Stony Creek was, as before said, for a short space re-occupied by the Americans under Colonel Burns, a cavalry officer, upon whom the command had devolved. He merely remained long enough to destroy the tents . . . and stores. He then rapidly retired to the protection of the lines of Fort George, though in executing this manoeuvre he was intercepted and suffered much. On their advance the Americans had been accompanied all along the lake shore by a flotilla of boats and batteaux. Burns fell back upon this support, and embarked his wounded, and such of his men as had not yet got under cover, and was slowly creeping down the coast to the place from whence he came, when, on the 8th June, Sir James Yeo, who by this time had become master of his own movements, and had got out of Kingston, appeared in the offing ; intelligence from the shore had apprised him of the state of things, and of the position of the enemy; and Richardson (the late James Richardson, D.D.) dwells with sailorly impatience on the perversity of a calm. ... A breeze sprung up and the squadron closed in with the shore, cutting off the twelve rearmost boats of the American flotilla, laden with valuable supplies and stores. Perceiving an encampment in the woods on the beach, the Com- modore disembarked in the ship's boats two companies of regulars under Major Evans of the 8th Regiment. This active ofl&cer landed, and in the even- ing having been reinforced by two companies from Burlington Heights under Colonel Bishopp, the second deserted American camp was entered. It was in a state of conflagration, . . . but the captors saved from the flames 500 tents, 140 barrels of flour, 100 stand of arms. . . . Thus did this exploit of Harvey free the whole Peninsula from the invaders, and threw them back upon the mere edge of the frontier with a deep and dangerous river in their rear, between them and their supports and supplies." — Col. Coffin's Chronicles of the War of 1812. {See also Appendix.) Note 14, page 29. She, our neighbour there At Queenston. This brave woman was Mrs. Maria Hill, a soldier's wife, who pitying the hungry condition of men who had been called out befote day -break on a cold NOTES. 183 ^g the cold October morning, to meet a foe already in partial occupation and temporarily victorious, had no means of procuring or cooking supplies, and indeed could not even break their fast, except by ihe intervention of those whose property they, for the time, had been unable to defend. Mrs. Hill carried her little stores on to the field, and leaving her babe, who crowed and cheered, it is said, as though mightily diverted by the sight of the red-coats, under the shelter of a wood-pile, lighted fires, boiled water, and carried tea and food to as many of the men on the field as she could supply. Note 15, page yj. The Lady Harriet Acland. This lady was the daughter of Stephen, first Earl of Ilchester, and accom- panied her husband. Major John Dyke-Acland, to Canada in 1776. The story put into the mouth of Sergeant George Mosier may be found in the Saturday Magazine for May, 1835, and also in Burke's " Romance of the Aristocracy." Her beauty, bravery and tender love for her husband made the name of Lady Harriet Acland an honour and delight among the m^n of her husband's regiment, and thus it is that Sergeant Mosier is made her historian with great propriety. In the Gentleman's Magazine for February, 1778, I also find ihe following note, p. 69, in " Extracts from the Congress Accounts of the Northern Expeditions" : " Oct. II. — Seme letters passed between the Generals, the first from Gen. Burgoyne, by Lady Acland, whose husband was dangerously wounded, recommending her Ladyship to the care and protection of Gen. Gates. Gen. Gates's answer, in which he expresses his surprise that his Excellency, after considering his preceding conduct, should think that he could consider the greatest attention to Lady Acland in the light of an obligation." NoTB 16, page 30. Save perhaps the Baroness. The Baroness Reidessel, the wife of one of the officers of the Hessians. This lady, together with the wives of Major Harnage and Lieutenant Reynell, was with Lady Acland during the painful march that preceded the action of the 19th September, 1777. They had followed the route of the artillery and baggage as being less likely of attack on the road, and when the engagement begun found themselves at a little uninhabited hut, from whence they could hear the roll of the guns that were carrying death to scores of brave men. Here they had to endure a great trial, for their only refuge was also the only place to which the wounded, who soon began to arrive in great numbers, could be brought for first care. Soon Major Harnage was brought in desperately wounded. Not long after the news arrived that Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead, and before the day was done Major Acland was a prisoner dangerously wounded. Herself saved for the present such terrible :'ii i :l SnP^ !ffpR ■' i i ■&'\'P' N 1. ■■ '• 1 184 NOTES. trials, Baroness Reidessel distinguished herself by her ministrations to her suffering companions, and to the dying and wounded around, thus gaining the affectionate remembrance of many a poor fellow who had no other ray of comfort in his anguish. Note 17, page 37. " Rule Britannia." This, together with "The King: God bless him," and "The Duke of York's March" were at this period new and favourite tunes all over the British Empire. In the Times, Oct. 3, 1798, under the heading " Drury Lane Theatre," it is reported that "after the play the news of Admiral Nelson's \'ictory (over the French under Admiral Brueys at Rosetta) produced a burst of patriotic exultation that has been rarely witnessed in a theatre. ' Rule Britannia ' was lustily called for from every part of the house, and Messrs. Kelly, Dignum, Sedgwick, Miss Leak and Mrs. Bland came forward and sang it, accompanied by numbers of the audience. It was called for and sung a second time. The acclamations were the loudest and most fervent we have ever witnessed. The following lines, written for the occasion, were introduced by Mr. Dignum and Mr. Sedgwick : "'Again the tributary strain Of grateful Britons, let us raise ; And to the heroes on the main, Triumphant add a Nelson's praise. Though the " Great Nation " proudly boasts Herself invincible to be, Yet oft brave Nelson still can prove Britannia Mistress of the Sea." " The audience was not satisfied with this repeated mark of exultation, but in the effusion of enthusiasic loyalty called for 'God Save the King,' which was received with reiterated plaudits." In another column of the same issue it is told that, " A person last night in the gallery of Drury Lane House calling frequently in a boisterous manner for the tune of ' Britons, Strike Home ! ' was immediately silenced by the appropriate observation of another at some distance from him, ' Why, damn it, they have, haven't they ? ' " The great popularity of " Rule Britannia " was owing to its entire conson- ance with the spirit of the nation, a popularity not even yet diminished. A further instance of its use in the celebration of a great national event is given in the Times, Nov. 7, 1805, in which is recorded the ofificial account of the Battle of Trafalgar and the death of Nelson. At Covent Garden, where both the Kembles were then playing together with Mrs. Siddons, a " hasty but elegant compliment to the memory of Lord Nelson " was presented. It "consisted of columns in the foreground decorated with medallions of the naval heroes of Britain. In the distance a number of ships were seen, and the front of the picture was filled by Mr. Taylor and the principal singers of the theatre. NOTES. 185 They were grouped in an interesting manner with their eyes turned toward the clouds, from whence s. half-length portrait of Lord Nelson descended with the following words underwritten, -Horatio Nelson, Ob. 21st Oct.'" Mr. Taylor and the other performers then sang " Rule Britannia," verse and chorus. The lollowing additional verse, written by Mr. Ashley, of Bath, was introduced and sung by Mr. Taylor with the most affecting expression. It was universally encored : — " Again the loud-toned trump of fame, Proclaims Britannia rules the main ; While sorrow whispers Nelson's name, And mourns the gallant hero slain. Rule, brave Britons, rule the main, Revenge the God-like hero slain." tt night lanner the damn conson- ked. A bs given ■ Battle loth the I elegant listed of eroes of It of the theatre. Note 18, page 37. Can you wonder? . . . shot at, etc. The cruel treatment of the Loyalists, or King's Men, by the Continentals, as they called themselves, is one of the features of this painful time, records of which abound : the story of Moody is well known : another as authentic may be here quoted. The Rev. G. A. Anderson, late Chaplain to the Reforma- tory at PenetP.nguJshene, in writing to the press with reference to the U. E. L, Celebration in 1884, says: " My grandfather, Samuel Anderson, was born of Irish parents, near Boston, 4th May, 1736. . . . He joined the King's forces, serving under General Abercrombie . . . then under General Amherst, . . . and was at the taking of Ticonderoga. . . . In 1775 he was offered a captaincy in the Co«- tinental service which he peremptorily refused. Some time after he was offered the command of a regiment ; this he also refused. He was at once suspected of being a King's Man, taken pr.joner, and, with several others, confined in Litchfield gaol, where he suffered almost death for two years. One morning, having heard that he and his fellow-prisoners were to be shot the following day, being a powerful man he wrenched the iron bars from tho windows, and, with his companions, escaped to Canada. . . ." A quotation from the "Boston Confiscation Act," Sept., 1778, ch. 48, speaks volumes as to the attitude of the new Republic towards the Loyalists : " In Massachusetts a person suspected of enmity to the Whig cause could be arrested under a magistrate's warrant, and banished, unless he would swear fealty to the friends of liberty; and the select-men of towns could prefer charges of political treachery in town meetings, and the individual thus accused, if convicted by a jury, could be sent into the enemy's jurisdiction. Massachusetts also designated by name, and generally by occupation and residence, three hundred and eight of her people, of whom seventeen had been inhabitants of Maine who had fled from their houses, and denounced against any one of them who should return apprehension, imprisonment and 13 •H. ; 186 NOTES. transportation to a place possessed by the British, and for a second voluntary return, without leave, death, without the benefit of clergy. By another law the property of twenty-nine persons, who were denominated ' notorious con- spirators,' was confiscated; of these fifteen had been appointed 'Mandamus Councillors,' two had been Governors, one Lieutenant-Governor, one Treasu- rer, one Attorney-General, one Chief Justice and four Commissioners of Customs." — Lorenzo Sabine, Historical Essay prefixed to Biographical Sketches of the American Loyalists. (See further, chapters 39 and 41, vol. 2, Ryerson's Loyalists 0/ America and Their Times. See also Appendix.) Note 19, page 38. "James Coffin 's good." The name of Coffin is famous in the annals, military, naval and civil, of Canada, and is scarcely less marked in the history of the earlier United States of America. Two branches of the family came, U. E. Loyalists, to Canada in 1775-78. One established itself on the St. John, New Brunswick, the other in Quebec. " Twenty years after the landing from the Mayflower, the first of the name put in an appearance from Brixton, near Plymouth, South Devon, England, at Newbury Port, in New Hampshire." James Coffin, mentioned above, was the sixth son of John Coffin, who settled in Quebec, and did such good service at the Prh-de-ville, when Montgomery and Arnold invaded the Province. Like all the Coffins, James was of a genial and kindly disposition, and his appointment as a Commissary Officer permitted opportunities for consideration and courtesy to people of all ranks, which he did not fail to .avail himself of. He died Assistant Commissary-General in 1835, at Quebec. Note 20, page 40. From proffered gifts, or gold. "To the soldiers of this regiment (the 41st), as indeed to all others, every temp- tation had been presented to induce them to desert and enlist in their service, by money, land, etc. After it was found impossible to persuade any number of them to do so the American Government encamped them, for nearly two months, in a pestilential marsh near Sandusky without covering." [See Dr. Strachan's letter, as Treasurer of the Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada, to Thomas Jefferson, Esq., Ex-Prefident of the United States of America.) Note 21, page 41. The beech-ridge. This was a ridge of high land clad with beeches which overhung a hollow in the road to Beaver Dam, and now forms the basin of the Welland Canal. "The spot," says Colonel Coffin, "which then rang with the outcries of the combatants now resounds with the hum of industry and the working-chant pf the sailor." NOTES. 187 Note 22, page 47. The small, neglectful bir '. ThisisTengtnalm'sOwl, or Death-bird. "The Indians of North America,'" says Rev. J. G. Wood, "have a superstition that whoever hears the note of this bird must whistle in reply, and if the bird returns no answer the person will die within the year." Note 23, page 50. Beaver Dam— Decau s house. Decau's farm house at the Beaver Dam was British headquarters more than once during the War of 1812. Close to this famous spot the town of Thorold now stands, and the interested visitor may reach it by tram-car from St. Catharines. Decau's Falls, near by, preserve the memory of the ancient settler on the spot in less correct orthography, Decew, and less euphonious form than the original, which is said to have boen also. Decamps. Another form of it may be found in " Loyalists of America," p, 243 : " In the summer of 1800 my mother had a very nice help as nurse. Jenny Decow had been apprenticed to a relative, and at the age of eighteen, she received her bed, her cow, and two or three suits of clothing (those articles it was customary to give to a bound girl) and she was considered legally of age, with the right to earn her own living as best she could. . . . Jenny had a wooer, . . , young Daniel McCall made his appearance." Note 24, page 50. Fitzgibbon. This brave officer is thus described in the letter of " A Green 'Un," I have elsewhere quoted, and which was written in 1852, at which date Colonel Fitzgibbon was yet alive: — "Colonel Fitzgibbon has long been known in Canada, in both a civil and a military capacity, and if he was now present he would be able to give you much more interesting and valuable information. At the time of this attack " (Black Rock, July 12th, 1813), "he was a Lieutenant in the 4gth, and his daring spirit and energy of character were well known to the whole army. General Vincent had placed him in command of a sort of independent company of Rangers. Volunteers from the different regiments were asked for, and strange to say so many men offered that it was difhcult to decide who should be permitted to go. From the numerous young subs, desirous of joining him he selected his friend Lieutenant Winder of the 49th (now Dr. Winder, Librarian to the House of Assembly at Quebec), Volunteer D. A. McDonnell of the 8th, Volunteer Augustus Thompson of the 49th ; and another youngster of the 49th (the late Judge Jarvis, of Cornwall) who were permitted as a great favour to join his corps." Colonel Coffin in his "Chronicles of the War of 18 12," gives a very full account of Colonel Fitzgibbon's career, of which only a brief outline is proper here. Colonel James Fitzgibbon was the son of an English farmer, had a little early education, and acquired a 188 NOTES. :- m i i i •• 'His'. Si.; fondness for reading ; his passion for arms was irresistible. At seventeen hs enlisted, and the same day, 25th October, 1798, was made a serge nt. At twenty-one he was made Sergeant-Major. He served in Ireland anu before Copenhagen, where the 49th acted as marines. He was appointed to an ensigncy and adjutancy, and came to Canada. In 1809 he succeeded to alien* tenancy ; and resigned the adjutancy to command a small detachment in the field. His exploits at the Beaver Dam gave him his company. He thus rose by dint of meritorious service, at a time when commissions and promotions were not so freely given to deserving men as they are now. On this, and on all other occasions, during the war, Fitzgibbon made his mark. " At the close of the war, he settled in Canada, and filled many offices of honour and emolument under the Government. His last appointment was that of Clerk to the Legislative Council. He retired on a pension, and re- turned tc his native land, when, in just appreciation of his services, he wa» made a Military Knight of Windsor." Note 25, page 50. " The Times." A newspaper of four pages. The first name of this great newspaper was The Daily Universal Register, but it had taken its latest title as early as 1801. An issue of that date con- taining the official accounts of the Battle of Copenhagen is in the writer's. possession. Note 26, page 55. % And gray the dawn, and cold the morn of Rensellaer's attack. The nth October had been first decided upon for the invasion of Queens- ton, but it proved one of those fierce October days that drench the earth with a cold rain, making roads into quagmires, and rivers into torrents, stripping the trees of their leafy honours, and not unfrequently tearing them up by the roots. The 13th opened cold and gray, but developed into a fine fall day, much to the convenience of the invaders. (See also Appendix.) Note 27, page 55, Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest breath. " And our gallant General fell on his left side within a few feet of where I stood. Running up to him, I enquired, 'Are you much hurt, sir?" He placed his hand on his breast but made no reply, and sunk slowly down." — My, G. S, Jarvis (the late yndg" Jarvis^ pf Cornwall), in Auchinleck's History of the War of 1812, p 05. Mr. Jprvis was taken prisoner at Queenston, but was exchanged for a Cap- tain of militia within a week. Note 28, page 59, Affliction leaves him in our hands to do him justice. The noble mind is always alert to see that he who cannot take care of himself shall be tenderly cared for, and that the more fully, the more he is exposed to injury by the prominence or delicacy of his position. NOTES. 189 In 1812 the King's malady, which in 1805 is recorded to have affected his eyes to such a degree that " he had to wear a green shade , . . after candle-light," and could not " distinguish any person unless ne be very near," and by the assistance of a glass, had increased to such ar extent that Prince George had to be appointed Regent, and there were not wanting those who chose the opportunity to laugh at and depreciate the King's character. He \tory :ap' le o£ Le is Note 28a, page Go. Like dart of Annee-ineektje. Annee-meekee is the Ojibway for the thunder; " dart of" consequently is i' i lightning. Note 29, page 59. Of whom some fought for him at Copenliagen. ^ The majority of the men with Fitzgibbon at Beaver Dam belonged to the 49th Regiment, to which Fitzgibbon himself belonged. It was also Brock's regiment. He had joined it ^791 at Barbadoes. The regiment being removed to Jamaica, Brock vs .ce obliged to get leave of absence in 1793 on account of his health. On june 24, 1795, after doing recruitip,-; jervice both in England and Jersey, he purchased his majority. Next yf ir his regi- ment returned from Jamaica, and on the 25th October, 1797, he purchased his lieutenant-colonelcy, and soon after became senior lieutenant-colonel. In August, 1799, the 49th Regiment was ordered to Holland as part of the force under Sir Ralph Abercrombie. On the return of the expedition, the 49th was again quartered in Jersey until the spring of 1801, when it was despatched with the fleet for the Baltic under Sir Hyde Parker. The same year the 49th returned to England, and in the next spring was sent to Canada where it took up its quarters at York (Toronto). On the flag of the regi- ment is inscribed " Egniont-op-Zee," "Copenhagen," "Queenstown," and its colours and appointments bear the word " China " and the device of the Dragon. Of the career of the 49th Regiment in Canada during the war of 1812-15, it is impossible to speak too highly. From their brilliancy of attack and energy in action the American soldiers dubbed then the "Green Tigers," a ' on the fatal day at Queenston, those of the wounded who had passed over '• had described the charge of the ' Green Tigers ' and militia in the morning, and had warned them what they might expect if they came in con- tact with troops infuriated by the loss of their beloved General " (Auchin- Jeck, p. 106.) That the 49th revelled in the honour conferred by such a soubriquet is clear from the fact that Fitzgibbon's company dubbed them- selves " Fitzgibbon's Green 'Uns," and one of them, the late Judge Jarvis, of Cornwall, then a cadet of eighteen, says, over the notti de plume " A Green 'Un," in Auchinleck : "We were all dressed in green uniform made froni clothing which had been taken from tae enemy." ft yT I -■ r ' ■ Jti !"■ !', 190 NOTES. In a private letter to the writer Judge Jarvis says, under date Cormvallr "jth November, lEjd : " The uniform of the 49th was, of course, of a scarlet colour with green facings, rather a light green. Around the edges of the cuffs and collar was a band of gold lace one inch wide, thus (a drawing i& given). " The rnilitia had no uniform during the War of 1812 ; they were furnished with a blanket only." At the taking of Fort Detroit the militia are generally said to have been in uniform, but these were only a few and in the first engagement. "The Americans wore coarse grey or blue cloth, mostly the former." Homespun ; in pursuance of the line of action required by the blockade. " One regiment, the Irish Greens, wore dark green cloth, but they were not at either Stony Creek or Beaver Dam." Note 30, page 59. —and tue Queen's, too, Who loves ail nobleness. Queen Charlotte's intense admiration for all nobility of character is well exemplified by Sir Walter Scott in Jennie Deans (" Heart of Midlothian"), ta whom she showed the most marked kindness and sympathy. This was but one instance out of many which were well known and duly appreciated by the British people. Note 31, page 60. You, Cummings, mount. James Cummings, of Chippewa, was engaged in the Indian trade. He accompanied Clark's plucky expedition on Black Rock, when they surprised the work, captured the guard together with several stand of arms, one brass six-pounder, and a large store of provisions. On Bishopp hearing of this exploit, he fired up, " Hang the fellow, he has got before me. By Jove, it was well done; we'll try it again." And he did, as history tells. Note 32, page 60. Twelve-Mile Creek. " The site of St. Catharines, formerly known as the Twelve-Mile Creek or Shipman's Corners, after the oldest inhabitant of the place, was first selected as a country residence by the Hon. Robert Hamilton, father of the Hamilton who gave his name to the flourishing and rising city which still bears it, so early as the year 1800, at which period he owned the mills afterwards known as the Thomas's Mills, upon the Twelve-Mile Creek, up to which point boats at that time ascended. But it was not until after the war, viz., in 1816, that the town-plot of St. Catharines was first purchased and laid out as a village by the Hon. W. H. Merritt and Jonathan H. Clendennen, and received the name of St. Catharines, in honour of Mrs. Robert Hamilton, whose name was Catharine." — Anglo-American Magazine, vol. 3, p. 129. NOTES. 191 :hat age the was Note 33, page 60. I have friends beyond. These were the household of Miss Tourney, an intimate friend of Mrs. Secord, and owner of a large farm some three miles beyond Beaver Dam. To this house Mrs. Secord proceeded, accompanied by an escort furnished by Lieut. Fitzgibbon, but, it need h^dly be said, not exactly in the manner described. Here "she slept right off, for she had journeyed on foot twenty miles, and safely, God be praised." Mrs. Secord returned to her anxious husband on the third day after having started on her perilous undertaking, but neither through the woods, nor on foot, thanks to her brave deed, and the success of British arms. Note 34, page 63. Ye Yankee rogue ! ye coward 1 This incident, which Col. Coffin places as preceding the occupation of Beaver Dam by Fitzgibbon, is thus described by Judge Jarvis in a letter subsequent to the one already quoted, and which was apparently dictated by the awakening of old memories by the enquiries that led to the former letter : "Although I write with great labour and pain" [the result of rheumatism] "I cannot refrain from giving you the following incident. Lieut. Fitzgibbon, who always preferred going on any dangerous expedition to sending any other person, on receiving the information of the patriotic woman, went forward to reconnoitre. On approaching a small tavern two American soldiers came out of the door, and immediately presented their rifles. He seized the rifles, and crossed them in front of his person " [Col. Coffin says: ' He seized the musket of the more advanced man and by main strength threw him upon his fellow, whose musket he also grappled with the other hand '] "so that neither could fire without shooting his fellow-soldier. Here he held them until one of them drew Lieut. Fitzgibbon's sword, and held it up over liis head, of course intending to stab him forthwith. The woman of the house saw the position, and rushed out and seized the sword, and got it from the soldier's hand. Fitzgibbon then tripped up one of the soldiers and felled the other with a blow, then took them both prisoners and marched them into the line occupied by his company." It is a pity this brave woman's name cannot be discovered in order that it might be added to the roll of those patriotic women whose names adorn Canadian history. Note 35, page 64. Lieut. -Col. Thomas Clark, Lieutenant-Colonel Clark, of the 2nd Lincoln Militia, was, says Colonel Coffin, " a Scotchman by birth." He " was an Indian trader and forwarder of goods to the Western hunting grounds ; a member of the firm of Street & Clark, . . . From the first outbreak of the war Clark was foremost in frontier fray. He had acquired the confidence of his men, and obtained the cordial co-operation of those who, like Bishopp, understood volunteers, and could appreciate the merits of the extemporaneous soldier." 192 NOTES. ■' ''fl Note 36, page 64. " But twenty, sir, all told." These were militia. "Old Isaac Kelly," says Colonel Coffin (Chronicles of the War of 1812), "born and raised on 48 Thorold, a septuagenarian, hale and hearty, who still [in 1864] lives not a mile from the spot, tells how, when he was a boy of eighteen, and was in the act of ' hitching up ' his horses for the plough, he heard the firing in the wood, and outcries of the Indians; how he ran to his two brothers, both a-field ; how the three got their muskets — they were all militiamen — men home to put in a crop ; how, led by the sounds, they crossed the country to the beech grove, meeting eight or ten more by the way, suddenly roused, like themselves ; how, from behind the trees, they opened fire on the American train, and on the guns which were then un- limbering to the rear, and how the Americans, more worried and bothered than hurt, changed their position, and took up ground in David Millar's apple orchard." Note 37, page 64. Boerstler 's lost his head. Not altogether without reason. " We frightened the enemy," says Judge Jarvis, in a letter before quoted, " with our Indians, and from sounding the bugle on different positions to make them suppose we were numerous, and had them surrounded." Note 38, page 65. Terms generous and honourable, sir. "Particulars of the capitulation made between Captain McDowell, on the part of Lieutenant-Colonel Bcerstler, ot the United States Army, and Major De Haren, of his Britannic Majesty's Canadian Regiment, on the part of Lieu- tenant-Colonel Bishopp, commanding the advance of the British, respecting the force under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler : "Article i. — That Lieutenant-Colonel Bcerstler and the forces under his command shall surrender prisoners of war. "Article 2. — That the officers shall retain their arms, horses and baggage. "Article 3. — That the non-commissioned officers and soldiers shall lay down their arms at the head of the British column, and shall become prisoners of war. "Article 4. — That the militia and volunteers with Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler shall be permitted to return to the United States on parole. "Andrew McDowell, " Captain of the United States Light Artillery. "Acceded to and signed, "P. G. Bcerstler, "Lieut.-Col. commanding detachment United States Army. "P. V. De Haren, "Major Canadian Regiment.'^ — Auchinleck's History of the War, p. 175. ' NOTES. 193 Note 39, page 65. The golden epaulettes. These were the insignia of a captain's rank in those days, and as Major De Haren is made to predict, Lieutenant Fitzgibbon won his company by the exploit of Beaver Dam. A BALLAD OF 1812. tnel fry. vy. 75. Note i, page 70. Irresolution ruled. Proctor's irresolution, timidity, or want of promptness, led to many disasters, notably that at Moraviantown, and at length was his own des- truction. Note 2, page 70. Our people, by forced parole held, James says, " No sooner had the American Army got possession of the Niagara frontier [27th May, 1813] than officers with parties were sent to every farmhouse and hovel in the neighbourhood to exact a parole from the male inhabitants of almost every age. Some were glad of this excuse for remaining peaceably at their houses, and those who made any opposition were threatened to be sent across the river, and thrown into a noisome prison." Note 3, page 72. The substance all too poor and sparse Our stinted fields may grow. The war was declared on the iSth of June, and at once every able male in the Provinces sprang to arms. The necessary absence from their farms thus forced upon them curtailed the sowing, and lessened the harvest, though the women and children of every rank did their utmost to countervail the losses thus threatened. The next year there was less to sow and less, consequently, to reap, notwithstanding the leave granted to the militia at all possible junc- tures, to attend to their work ; but intermittent farming is not more s'lccessful than other occasionally prosecuted labour, and the war laid bare many previously fruitful clearings. Note 4, page 73. Or many-rattled snake. An extraordinary danger attended the bite of the rattlesnake in the case of a married woman. The Jenny Decow alluded to in Note 23 had become Mrs. McCall, and while working in the field with her husband was bitten. Her husband killed the snake, thinking, according to the ideas of the time, th&t by so doing he should save his wife's life; he also sucked the poison from m i '1 1:^ t!;!l i' 194 NOTES. the wound ; but before he had carried her to her cottage the foot had burst. An Indian remedy was applied, but it was years before she recovered from the effects of that bite. In the meantime two children were born, each of whom turned spotted and sore, and then died. A third born after her recovery was strong and healthy, and grew to manhood. Note 5, page 73. Oh, at the mill iny brother lies Just at the point cf death. This was Mr. Charles Ingersoll, after whom Mrs. Secord named her only son. He had been wounded, and lay at St. David's Mill in a very precarious condition. He recovered, however, to fight again, and to become one of Woodstock's most promment citizens. Note 6, page 74. The frilil' butterfly. This is the small fritillary, a beautiful little creature that may be seen flitting from blossom to blossom, or careering in the early summer air in the manner almost of a tumbler pigeon, before any other of its kind has left its winter's cradle. It is beautifully marked, of a golden brown, and the edges, of the wings are bordered with a narrow vandyking of pearly gray. Note 7, page 74. She hears the wolves' dread bands. " Wolves were the pests of the country for many years, and even after they were partially expelled by the settlers, they used to make occasional descents upon the settlements, and many a farmer that counted his sheep by twenties at night would be thankful if he could muster half a score in the morning." — See Ryerson's Loyalists, p. 246. Note 8, page 75. Doomed St. David's Mill. Auchinleck says, "From the 8th of July" [Chippewa was fought on the 4th] " to the 23rd of the month. General Brown, with his enormous force, was content to remain without striking a blow, unless an occasional demonstration before Forts George and Mississaga, or the wanton conflagration of the village of St David's, be considered as such." Of this atrocity an American officer, a Major McFarland, writes : — "The militia and Indians plundered and burnt every thing. The whole population is against us; not a foraging party but is fired on, and not infrequently returns with missing numbers. This state was to be anticipated. The militia have burnt several private dwelling-houses, and, on the 19th instant, burnt the village of St. David, consisting of about thirty or forty houses. This was done within three miles of camp, and my battalion was sent to cover the retreat, as they [the militia] had been sent to scour the country, and it NOTES. 195 was presumed they might '^e pursued. My God, what a service ! I never witnessed such a scene, and had not the commanding officer of the pnrty, Lieutenant-Colonel Stone, been disgraced " [he was dismissed the service by sentence of a court-martial for this deed] " and sent out of the army, I should have resigned my commission." This disgust was not caused by any half-heartedness in the war on the part of Major McFarland, for he says in the same letier that " he desires nO' better fun than to fight the British troops." Note 9, page 80. Oh, chief, indeed no spy am I. So impossible did it appear to the Indian that a woman should be found traversing alone so strongly invested a section of the country, that it was- with the greatest difficulty Mrs. Secord persuaded him of the truth of her story. Note 10, page 82. Nay, five and forty, one by one, Have borne her from the day. From 1813 to i860, seven and forty. Five is, however, used as a division of equality. Note ii, page 83. And when from o'er the parting seas, A royal letter came. "When, in i860, the Prince of Wales was at Niagara, he went to see the aged lady, and from her own lips heard the tale; and, learning that her fortune did not equal her fame, he sent her, most delicately and most grace- fully, the sum of one hundred guineas. God bless him for that, is the aspi- ration of every true Canadian heart. He is his mother's true son." — Col, Coin's Chronicles of the War of 1812. JUBILEE POEM. itly ^he ^nt, ses. Iver it Note i, page 84. Mercy, whose message bore thy first command. The first act of the Crown which Her Majesty was called upon to perform was the signing of the death-warrant of a soldier who had been sentenced to be shot for desertion. The Queen felt it keenly, and asked the Duke of Wellington if there was no possible plea on which the man could be respited : had he no good quality ? "Your Majesty, he is a very bad soldier, having deserted three times; but I believe he is a good husband." " Oh, thank you," the Queen replied, and wrote " Pardoned " across the document. 196 NOTES. THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND. iiti: IM i']: Note i, page 86 This touching incident, bright example as it is of that fine sense of duty that has built up the renown of the British Army, is related in his charming volume, " The Emigrant," by Sir Francis Bond Head. The author, in intro- ducing it, says : " In the different regions of the globe it has been my fortune to visit, I have always experienced great pleasure in pausing for a few minutes at the various spots which have been distinguished by some feat or other of British enterprise, British, mercy, British honesty, British generosity or British valour. " About the time I was in Canada a trifling circumstance occurred on the breaking up of the ice, which I feel proud to record. "In the middle of the great St. Lawrence there is, nearly opposite Montreal, an island called St. Helen's, between which and the shore the stream, about three quarters of a mile broad, runs with very great rapidity, and yet, notwith- standing this current, the inteise cold of winter invariably freezes its surface. " The winter which I am speaking of was unusually severe, and the ice on the St. Lawrence particularly thick ; however, while the river beneath was rushing towards the sea, the ice was waiting in abeyance in the middle of the stream until the narrow fastness betv/een Montren.1 and St. Helen's should burst, and allow the ^vhole mass to break into pieces, and then in stupendous confusion to hurry downwards towards Quebec." The story follows, and in winding up the account Sir Francis says : " Colour-Sern'eant William Delaney, and Private George Morgan, of the 24th Regiment i ow at Chatham, were eye-witnesses of the above occurrence." * The dangers Sergeant Neill so bravely encountered are thus graphically depicted by Sir Francis B. Head on p. 42 of the same volume, in describing the breaking up of the ice of the River Humber, a stream not a tenth of the length or breadth of the St. Lawrence, so that the scene bears but a slight comparison to that witnessed on the larger river. ". . . As soon as the great movement commenced, these trees and the ice were hurried before my eyes in indescribable confusion. Every piece of ice, whatever might be its shape or size, as it proceeded, was either revolving horizontally or rearing up on end until it reeled over ; sometimes a tree striking against the bottom would rise slowly up, and for a moment stand erect as if it grew out of the river ; at other times it would, apparently for variety's sake, stand on its head with its roots uppermost and then turn over ; sometimes the ice as it proceeded would rise up like a house and chimneys, and then rolling head over heels, sink, leaving in its place clear water. " In a few hours the turmoil was completely at an end, the torrent had ■diminished, the stream had shrunk to its ordinary limits, and nothing remained to tell of the struggle." {Sec also Appendix.) NOTES. 197 LIVINGSTONE. Note i, page lor. Snatched by ,he hand of God his groaning millions. The representations by Livingstone of the terrible condition among the inland peoples of Africa by slavery, tribe enslaving tribe, people making war upon people for the sake of prisoners to be sent to the slave market, and the horrors endured by the poor wretches, thus given over to a fate worse than death, by the greed of the Arabian and certain white merchants of the coast, led to action on the part of the British and other Governments, which has done much to break up the inhuman traffic, and will never cease " till that wide wound be healed." THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE. Note i, page 122. This little comedy appeared in Gripsack for 1882, and was written at the request of the editor of Grip, who was, and is, in full sympathy with all efforts to secure the rights of women. At that date the Council of University College had refused to entertain the application of ladies to be admitted to the lectures of University College, and that suph an adventure with its dcnouetnent did not become a fact is only to be credited to the wisdom that, on further consideration, withdrew the objection, for history afi<.rds many instances of woman's use of a disguise in order to attain her wish ;s, and the annrls of co-education furnish numerous proofs of her equality with, and not unfrequently her superiority to, her rivals of the other sex in competitive examinations. Note 2, page 127. To think that down in Canterbury, girls. The circumstance here so mournfully quoted by Kate was a fact. The University of Canterbury, New Zealand, was open alike to men and women. The examination papers used were prepared by Cambridge University (Eng- land) on the same standing as their own, and were returned to Cambridge for adjudication thereon. In 1881 a lady took the degree of B.A., the first in the world, and was invested with the hood with some eclat. 198 NOTES. Note 3, page 136. Who in this city form a ladies' club. The Toronto Worr.en's Literary Club, incupted by Dr. Emily H. Stowe, of Tororto, and meeting at htT house from 1876 until its resolution into the Canadian Women's Suffrage Association in 1883, was responsible for the pub agitation of the right of women to admission to University College ; and .ilso for the circulation of the petition to that end, which, by the kind help of many of members of the Legislature, won from the Provincial Parliament a recommendation to the Senate of the University that women should be admitted. Several of the leading fourth year men of 1882 offered their assistance in circulating the petition among the students ; and the greatest sympathy was shown by educators in every part of the Dominion. ML owe, the the ege; kind icial men Bred the 1. APPENDICES. APPENDIX No. r. [The following account of 13th Oct., 1812, written by Lieut. -Colonel Evans, of the Eighth or King's Regiment, Acting Brigade-Major to the Forces at that date, will be read with interest, and is doubly valuable as being a piece of well-attested history.] Government PIouse, Fort George. Oct. 15, 1812. After dinner on the evening of the nth inst., Major-General Brock handed me a note from Captain Dennis, commanding flank companies of the 49th Regiment at Queenstown. After perusing its contents, which were of an alarm- ing nature, setting forth the highly mutmous state of his detachment, his men having deliberately threatened to shoot their officers, etc., the General said, >' Evans, you will proceed early in the morning and investigate this business, and march, as prisoners, in here, half-a-dozen of those most culpable, and I will make an example of them. You can also cross the river and tell Van Rensellaer I expect he will immediately exchange the prisoners taken in the Detroit and Caledonia [two vessels coming from Amherstburgh cut out by Americans whilst at anchor at Fort Erie] for an equal number of Americans I released after the capture of Detroit." I reached Queenstown early in the morning of the 12th, and finding many of the grenadier company confined, and the guard-house gutted, and Captain Dennis himself in apparent alarm at the state of things, I proposed proceeding at once to select those most prominent, for example. At this juncture, how- ever, and when about leaving Hamilton's house [Captain Dennis' quarters] a scattered fire of musquetry from the American shore took place, and on a musket ball entering the room passing betwixt us, I inquired with surprise the meaning of such unusual insolence. Captain Dennis stating the practice to have existed more or less for some days, insomuch as to render ingress by the river door hazardous, I deemed it fitting first to cross the river, desiring Captain Dennis would prepare his men against my return. On passing along the river bank for Mr. T. Dickson, the enemy kept up an incessant fire ot musquetry till I entered that gentleman's house, but happily without mischief. I now begged Mrs. Dickson kindly to prepare a white handkerchief as a flag of truce, asking Mr. Dickson, who was a Captain of Militia, would he accompany me across the water ; he had no objection, but both Mrs. Dickson and all present urged the danger of any attempt to cross, convinced as they were, in the enemy's then temper, the flag would not be respected. Feeling 13 20: AI'PKNDICr.S. h i. «i this to he no time for discussing about personal safety, I took Dickson by one hand and the flag in the other, then descending the precipitous steep to the water's edge, we launched our frail canoe amidst an unsparing shower of shot which fell ail around us ; nor did the firing cease till the canoe, become quite unmanageable, tossed about in the waters of the strong eddies; when, as if struck by shame at his dastardly attempt to deter us from our purpose the enemy gave the signal to cease fire. I was thus relieved (anu enabled) on approaching the shore to observe more calmly all that was passing. On touching the ground, with water in the leaky canoe ankle deep, I was about, as was mv custom, leaping -"shore, when a sentinel from a guard brought to the spo jame to the charge with fixed bayonet, authoritatively commanding me not to leave the boat. To my enquiry for Colonel Solomon Van Renseliaer, (the Adjutant-General) with whom I usually conferred, I was told he was sick. I then stated having an important message from General Brock for their Com- mander, which if inconvenient for their General to receive from me personally, I begged an official person might be immediately deputed to convey it to him. After some delay, Mr. Toock, the General's Seer ♦ary, made his appearance, but his reply to General Brock's request being abrupt, and as I thought some- what significant, " that nothing could be done till the day after to-morrow," I ventured to remind him of General Brock's liberality towards their people which the fortune of war had thrown into his hands, entreating that he would again consult his General, and enable me to carry to mine something more satisfactory. In compliance, as he stated, with my wishes, but as it appeared to me, mce with the intent to consume my time, rendered precious from its being after midday, he detained me in my miserable position for more than two hours, and then returned expressing the General's regret " that the prisoners having been marched for Alban}' they could not instanter be brought back, but that I might assure General Brock with his respects that all should be settled to their mutual satisfaction the day after to-morrow." I was now too anxious to depart to wish the parley prolonged, my mind being quite made up as to the enemy's intentions, and to the course it was most fitting for me to pursue under the circumstances. It had not escaped me that their saucy numbers had been prodigiously swelled by a horde of half-savage troops from Kentucky, Ohio and Tennessee, which evidently made it hazardous for their northern countrymen to show their accustomed respect for a flag of truce from a foe ; but my most important discovery was their boats slung in the sides or fissures on the river bank covered only by the brush, with indeed many decided indications that an attack on our shores could not be prudently delayed for a single day. Under such impression the first thing on reaching our own side was the removal by Mr. Dickson of his family from his own house on the beach, the very site of the prospective struggle, and giving note of preparation to the few militia which, with the 49th flank companies, were all the immediate disposable force for the defence of Queenstown. Aware of the imminence and magnitude of the danger, the lateness of the hour, after Pi^ APPENDICES. 20IT :re of er three p.m., and distance from Fort OeorRe, Headquarters more than six miles, I hesitated not assuming tne responsibility of liberating all the4gth prisoners, on the specious plea of their offence proceeding from a too free indulgence in drink, appealing to them f(jr proof of their loyalty and courage, which they were assured would be severely tested ere another day dawned. Then, after a r.ipid but effective arrangement of the several points requiring attention, seeing to the re-suppiy of fresh ammunition, and infusing all the spirit and animation in my power to impart, I left Captain Dennis, exhoiting his utmost diligence in keeping his charge on the alert for repelling the enemy's attempt, which I foresaw would not be deferred. Having to put the many posts on the line of communication on the qui vive, although I rode at full speed, it was p.ist six p.m. ere I reached Fort George, and then from having been exposed for thirteen hours, under much anxiety, to wet fee' and extreme heat, without refreshment of any kind, I was so exhausted as to be unequal to further immediate effort. Refreshed, I narrated to General Brock all that had occurred, the precautionary steps I had taken, and the responsibility I had! assumed as to the 4gth prisoners, which, under the stated circumstances, I trusted he would approve, and at once authorize my making preparations for coming events, so indispensably required. Th General evidently doubting at first, hesitated, but seeing my earnestness in rebuking his attendants of charging my being over-sanguine, and chagrin at their proffered bets against my predictions, he became unusually grave, desired I would follow him to the office, where at his request I succinctly recapitulated the day's occui rence.s, adding my solemn conviction that a moment was not to be lost in effectually- preparing for defence. The General now thanked me, approved of all that I had done, and, return- ing to the dining room, directed officials to be immediately written and des- patched by Provincial Dragoons, calling in the militia of the vicinity that same evening, those more distant to follow with all alacrity. I was directed to make all requisite preparations at Headquarters. In this work I was- busied till near eleven p.m., with but few converts, however, to my convic- tions, when, worn down by fatigue, I stretched myself on my mattrass. After a slumber of a few hours I was aroused by a distant cannonade soon after two a.m., 13th October, but without surprise, well knowing the quarters" where the ominous sound came. The General v/ho, himself, had all in readi^ ness, at once mounted his horse and proceeded for the post attacked. His. Aides-de-Camp were awoke, and soon followed. Major-General Sheaffe,, second in command, assumed charge at Headquarters, but the impression on General Brock's mind being that the attempt at Queenstown would prove only a feint to disguise his (the enemy's) real object from the creek in rear of Fort Niagara, his apparent wish was thai whilst all were held in readiness to act in any quarter, no decisive movement by the troops should take place till the enemy's intentions were fully developed. The Indians and regular Artillery- were, however, promptly despatched, and the elite of the 41st with an equal i 11 ri :;l! % 204 APPENDICKS. number of well-drilled militia flank companies reidy to follow on the first summons. As the day dawned, the scouts I had sent out reporting no symp- toms of hostile movement in the quarter indicated, these troops all proceeded at double quick for the succour of Queenstown, the debouching of the head of which column on the main road appeared to be the signal for opening a brisk cannonade from Fort Niagara on the troops, the town, and Fort. Soon after, the news of the gallant Brock's unhappy fall reached us, which, by necessarily removing General Sheaffe to Queenstown, the command at Fort George devolved on me as next senior officer. At this moment the scene around was awfully discouraging, the gaol and court house were sud- denly wrapped in flames, which as containing many political prisoners, I at first imagined the act of an incendiary, but other buildings soon appearing in a similar state of conflagration left me no longer in doubt as to the new enemy of hot shot with which we had to grapple, and its easy distance, on wooden edifices I foresaw, must be attended with very destructive effect. Luckily, a posse of militia-men had now come in, which I distributed in separate bodies, collecting all the water-buckets and requisite implements from the inhabitants of the town. This arrangement, though in part effective, from the energy and courage displayed in extinguishing the flames as they occurred, I felt to be insuffi- cient in itself for our security ; selecting therefore, all the old veteran militia artillerymen with two intelligent staff non-commissioned officers of the 41st, by bending our whole efforts to the attainment of one object, we at length Succeeded in stopping the mischief by diminishing and crippling the enemy's guns, but not before he had burnt to the ground many buildings, amongst the number, beside the gaol and court house, the Chief Engineer's quarters ; the more important ones, however, the " Royal Barracks, ' " Block House," "King's Stores" and other public buildings, though repeatedly fired were, by steady and untiring intrepidity, preserved. Thus temporarily relieved, I was enabled to attend to Capt. Derinzy's (commanding 41st Batt.) note, from which it appeared, he found on arriving at Queenstown, the enemy in posses- sion of the opposite heights, and our heavy one-gun battery there: — that the enfilading on our side, too distant from the landing to be quite effective — then 'protected by his division — had been powerfully aided by Capt. Holcroft, of the Royal Artillery, who, unmindful of consequences, boldly dashed hjs gun through the valley into Hamilton's court-yard within point blank range, thus succeeding in sinking some of the enemy's crowded boats, and damping the ardour of his troops for crossing. Seeing his critical position Capt. Derinzy had sustained him by a party of the 41st Regiment. He briefly mentioned that the spirited Brock finding on his arrival the 49th grenadiers and militia, though resolutely defending the landing-place, hard pressed, had called to their aid the 49th light company from the Height's summit, the key of the position. The enemy, profiting by this step, moved unperceived about 150 men — and over a precipitous steep it was deemed impracticable for a human APPENDICES. 205 nus 150 lan being to ascend — who suddenly appeared to the astonished General just on the mountain summit, and the next instant in possession of the redoubt, put- ting its defenders to the sword. The gallant spirit of Brock, ill brooking to be thus foiled, with a courage deserving a better fate, hastily collected the we-ik 49th company and a few militia ; debouching from a stone building at the mountain's brow, with these little bands, he spiritedly strove to regain his lost position, but in which daring attempt he was killed by a rifle ball enter- ing under the left breast, passing out by the right shoulder. Capt. Williams by taking a wider range, made a second effort, but as the result proved with too inadequate a force, the A.D.C. (McDonell), being mortally wounded and Capt. Williams' head partially scalped by a rifle ball. These circumstances convinced me General Sheaffe would be more cir- cumspect than attack without a concentration of every disposable man. Under such impressions, after first despatching Lieutenant Mclntyre, 41st Regiment, with about 140 men of his regiment and militia, and afterwards \Vm. Martin with every regular soldier and a few active militia from Fort George, I hastened to forward, ai all hazards, the most active of the men from the many posts on the line of commuuication. On starting those from Young's Battery, the enemy, as though by signal, reopened his cannonade from Fort Niagara on Fort George and the town. However mortified by this unlooked-for occurrence, prudence required that whilst sending our whole effective force to Queenstown, Fort Geor%'e and its dependencies should not be neglected, for what with the aliens and prisoners in the Block House, with those set at liberty by firing the gaol, their number was little short of 300, with but a ftw raw militia left for their security, or that of the fort or town. I was, therefore, left no alternative but to gallop bslck and ascertain the enemy's power for further mischief. Well it was that I did so, for on reaching the gate of Fort George, I met a crowd of the militia with conster- nation in their countenances, exclaiming the magazine was on fire. Knowing it to contain 800 barrels of powder, with vent side-walls,' not an instant was to be lost. Captain Vigoreux, of the Engineers, therefore, at my suggestion, was promptly on its r f, which movement was with alacrity followed by the requisite number of volunteers, when by the tin being stripped off the blazing wood was extinguished. Thus was confidence reassured. The enemy, taking advantage of a bend in the river, had brought a battery with hot shot to enfi- lade the barracks, magazine and King's stores, and despite all '^ur efforts to dislodge him he had effectively consumed the store-houses with all the lower buildings, and repea',°dly set on fire the barracks and magazine. Our success was perfect ; the enemy's fire being again silenced and the necessary precau- tions taken to avert future disaster, I made another effort to reach Queens- town, when I met Captain Chambers, ^:st Regiment, with the glad tidings that General Sheaflfe, by a spirited p.nd judicious movement away to his right, and crossing the vale high up with his collected forces, had approached — as to ground — his enemy on more favourable terms, and that his operations had 1 1! ^1 206 APPENDICES. resulted in the enemy's complete destruction. But, for the details of this brilliant success I must refer to the despatches of the distinguished officer who, with his gallant troops, achieved it. (Signed) Thomas Evans, Brigade-Major to the Forces. [The stpt ,ment made above by Lieut. -Col. Evans that in the 49th were still smouldering the fires of the insubordination that Brock himself had •summarily dealt with several years before, is as remarkable as it is painful to those who would fain think a regiment famed for its brave achievements in so many engagements, and to which Brock had belonged for many years, could not be guilty of anything so disgraceful as is insubordination. It must, however, be remembered that of all duties, garrison duty is most trying to the soldier, and to these men, the greater part of whom were veterans who had fought at Bergen op-Zoom and Copenhagen, where they had acted as marines, anything approaching to the spirit of the martinet in their superior officers must have been very galling. To this want of tact on the part of certain officers is attributed, b) those who have enquired most carefully into the matter, the uncomfortable state of the gallant 49th at and before the epoch of tne war. Even Brock himself was tired of garrison life at such a stirring time at home, and had applied for active service in Europe, and Major-General Sheaffe had actually been appointed to his offices, both civil and military, when the declaration of war by President Madison gave him the employment he was looking for.] ■H-- APPENDIX No. 2. [From the other end of the Niagara Frontier comes an equally interesting account of that notable day — the 13th Oct., 1812, that of Lieutenant DriscoU of the looth Regiment. (See Ryerson's "Loyalists of America and their Times." Vol. 2, pages 36-81.)] "I was stationed" at Fort Erie on the memorable 13th Oct., 1812. At day- break, having returned with my escort as visiting rounds, after a march of about six miles in muddy roads through the forests, and about to refresh the inward man after my fatiguing trudge, I heard a booming of distant artillery very faintly articulated. " Having satisfied myself of the certainty of my belief, hunger, wet and fatigue were no longer remembered ; excitement banishes these trifling matters from the mind ; and I posted off to my commanding officer to report the firing, now more audible and rapid. '■ I found my chief, booted an 1 spurred and snoring — lying, as was his wont, on a small hair mattrass e.i the floor in his barrack room, which boasted of furniture, one oak table covered with green baize, a writing desk, a tin basin containing water and a brass candlestick, which had planted in it a regulation mutton-dip, dimly flickering its last ray of light, paling before ithe dawn, now making iis appearance through the curtainless window. APPENDICES. •207 " The noise I made on entering the Major's sleeping and other apartment awoke him, As he sat up on his low mattrass he said, ' What is the matter ?' ' Heavy firing down the river, sir.' ' Turn the men out.' ' All under arms, sir.' 'That'll do.' *' By this time he was on his legs — his hat and gloves on. His hutman was at the door with his charger, and his spurs in his horses' flanks in an instant — leaving the orderly, hutman, and myself to double after him up to the fort, some hundred yards off. " As we reached it, the men were emerging through the gate in measured cadence, and we were on our way to the batteries opposite the enemy's station at Black Rock. " Before we reached our post of alarm the sun was up and bright. We had not assumed our position long before an orderly officer of the Provincial Dragoons rode up, and gave us the information that the enemy were attempt- ing to cross at Queenston, and that we must annoy them alortg the whole line, as was being do..c from Niagara to Queenston, by any and every means in our power short of crossing the river. Everything was ready on our part. The enemy all appeared asleep, judging from the apparent quiet that prevailed on their side the river. "The command to annoy the enemy was no sooner given than bang! bang ! went off every gun that we had in position. " Now thore was a stir. The enemy's guns were in a short time manned, and returned our fire ; and the day's work was begun, which was carried on briskly the greater part of the day on both sides of the Niagara. " About two o'clock, another Provincial Dragoon, bespattered, horse and man, with foam and mud, made his appearance, not wearing sword or helmet. " Said an old Green Tiger to me; ' Horse and man jaded, sir ; depend upon it he brings bad news.' ' Step down and ascertain what intelligence he brings.' Away my vtsran double.,, and soon returns at a funeral pace. " Light heart, lighi step," were my inward thoughts. I knew by poor old Clibborn's style of return something dreadful had occurred. ' What news, Cliuborn ? What news, man? Speak out,' said I, as he advanced towards the battery that was still keeping up a brisk fire. Clibborn walked on, per- fectly unconscious of the balls that were ploughing up the ground, uttered not a word but shook his head, "When in the battery the old man sat down on the platform ; still no word, but the pallor and expression of his countenance indicated the sorrow of his soul. " I could stand it no longer. I placed my hand on his shoulder. ' For Heaven's sake, tell us what you know.' In choking accents he revealed his melancholy information : ' The General is killed ; the enemy has possession of Queenstown Heights.' " Every man in the battery was paralyzed ; the battery ceased firing. "A cheer by the enemy from the opposite side of the river recalled us to our duty. They had heard of their success down the river. Our men, who m 208 APPENDICES. had in various ways evinced their feelings — some in weeping, some in swear- ing—some in mournful silence— now exhibit demoniac energy. The heavy guns are loaded, traversed and fired, as if they were field pieces. "Too much hurry for precision. ' Take your time, men ; don't throw away your fire, my lads.' ' No, sir, but we'll give it to them hot and heavy.' " All the guns were worked by the 49th men of my own company, and they wished to avenge their beloved chief. Brock, whom they knew and valued with that correct appreciation peculiar to the British soldier. They had all served under him in Holland and at Copenhagen. " I had a very excellent reconnoitering-glass ; and as I kept a sharp look- out for the effect of our fire, and the movements of the enemy, I observed that powder was bemg removed from a large wooden barrack into ammuni- tion waggons. The only man of the Royal Artillery I had with me was a bombardier. Walker. I called his attention to the fact I had observed, and directed him to lay a gun for that part of the building wherefrom the powder was being taken. At my request he took a look through my glass, and, having satisfied himself, he laid the gun as I ordered. I, with my glass, watched the spot aimed at. I saw one plank of the building fall out, and at the same instant the whole fabric went up in a pillar of black smoke, with but little noise, and it was no more — horses, waggons, men and building all disap- peared ; not a vestige of any was to be seen. " Now was our turn to cheer ; and we plied the enemy in a style so quick and accurate that we silenced all their guns just as a third dragoon came galloping up to us, shouting 'Victory! Victory!' Then again we cheered lustily, but no response came from the other side. Night now hid the enemy from our sight. " The commissariat made its appearance with biscuit, pork, rum and potatoes, and we broke our fast for that day about nine p.m. " How strange and unaccountable are the feelings induced by war ! Here were men of two nations, but of a common origin, speaking the same language, o' the same creed, intent on mutual destruction, rejoicing with fiendish pleasure at their address in perpetrating murder by wholesale, shouting for joy as disasters propagated by the chance of war hurled death and agonizing wounds into the ranks of their opponents ! And yet the very same men, when chance gave them the opportunity, would readily exchange, in their own pecu- liar way, all the amenities of social life, extending to one another a draw of the pipe, a quid or glass; obtaining and exchanging information from one and the other of their respective services, as to pay, rations, etc., the victors with delicacy abstaining from any mention of the victorious day. Though the van- quished would allude to their disaster, the victors never named their triumphs. " Such is the character of acts and words between British and American soldiers, which I have witnessed, as officer commanding a guard over Ame- rican prisoners. "James Driscoll, " Of the /00th Regiment." APPENDICES. 209 APPENDIX No. 3. [Lieutenant-Colonel Bishopp was a son of Sir Cecil Bishopp, Bart., after- wards Lord de la Zouche. He was an accomplished gentleman. He had served in the Guards. Had represented Newport, in the Isle of Wight, in Parliament. Had been attached to a Russian embassy. Had served with distinction in Flanders, in Spain, in Portugal, and died full of hope and pro- mise in Canada, gallantly " doing his duty," and not without avail, for his example still lives.] " At two a.m. on the morning of the nth July, 1813, accompanied by Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Clark, and Lieutenant James Cummings (both of the Lincoln Militia), backed by about 240 men — 200 being regulars, and forty of the 2nd and 3rd Lincoln Militia, Bishopp swooped down upon Black Rock, the American naval depot on the River Niagara. " The assault was a success ; the work of destruction of the naval stores, chiefly by sinking them in the river, was complete. But Porter's force was aroused, and a speedy retreat on the part of Bishopp necessary. The men re-embarked unmolested, and Bishopp was the last to retire. Scarcely had they left the bank when the Indians who had crawled to the top commenced to fire. Part of Bishopp's men were landed and drove the enemy back into the woods. . . . Bishopp was everywhere commanding, directing, getting his men off. In the confusion of the moment some of the oars of his own boat were lost, and she drifted helplessly down stream exposed to an ever- increasing fire. Here Bishopp received his death-wound. He was borne back to his quarters, where, in a few days he expired at the early age of twenty- seven. ' Never was any officer, save always the lamented Brock, regretted more than he was.' His remains lie beneath a modest monument erected to his memory by the pious care of his sisters, the Baroness de la Zouche and Mrs. Pechall, in the churchyard at Lundy's Lane." — Coffin's Chronicles. A tablet to his memory is also to be seen at the family burial-place, Par- ham, Sussex, England, with the following epitaph : — " His pillow — not of sturdy oak ; His shroud — a simple soldier's cloak ; His dirge will sound till Time's no more — Niagara's loud and solemn roar. There Cecil lies— say where the grave More worthy of a Briton brave?" [Lieutenant-Colonel (afterwards General) Evans, Brigade Major, was one of the most valuable officers of the War of 181 2. His cool head, sound judg- ment, energy, and capability in administration made him a tower of strength to his superiors, all of whom at various times, took an opportunity of testify- ing to his merits.] On the 17th August, 1812, the day after the surrender of Detroit, General Brock wrote to him : — "Dear Evans, — Detroit is ours, and with it the whole Michigan Territory, the American Army Prisoners of War. The force you so skilfully prepared r^ ■ n .1.1:.:: 1'^ 210 APPF.NDICES. and forwarded at so much risk, met me at " Point an Pins" in high spirits and most effective state. Your thought of clothing the mililia in the 41st cast-off clothing proved a most happy one, it having more than doubled our own regular force in the enemy's eye. I am not without anxiety about the Niagara with your scanty means for its defence, notwithstanding my confid- ence in your vigilance and admirable address in keeping the enemy so long in ignorance of my absence and movements, etc. (Signed) I. Brock." There is no need here to allude to the events of the 13th October, 1812, at Fort George, since they are given in Lieut. -Col. Evans' own account of that day, to be found at Appendix Xo. i, and show that his Generals had good reason for the esteem in which they held him. Suffice it to say that in the despatches of General Sheaffe from Queenstown; of General Vincent from Burlington Heights; of Deputy .Vdjutant-General Harvey, Burlington Heights, with reference to the successful attack on Forty-mile Creek by a wing of the 8th or King's Regiment under Lieut -Col. Evans; of General Riall, after Chippawa, Fort Erie, and Lundy's Lane; and of General Drummond, after Lundy's Lane, Lieut. -Col. Evans is always mentioned with special appro- bation. And the same feeling is evident in the public prints of the day, notably the London Gazette, the official organ, as well as in histories of the war. Previous to his removal to Canada with his regiment, Lieut. -Col. Evans had been officially connected with the Government of Gibraltar in 1802, at the time that the Duke of Kent, as Governor, was trying to introduce some much-needed reforms, by doing which he brought a hornet's nest about his ears. In this affair the Royal Duke was ably backed by his subordinate, and in 1826, when Lieut. -Col. Evans was applying for a staff situation in Canada, h)s Royal Highness gratefully supported his request. Brigade-Major Evans' local rank throughout the War of 1812 was that of Lieutenant-Colonel. General Evans was an Englishman of Welsh ancestry. He married a daughter of Mr. Chief Justice Ogden, of Three Rivers, and after occupying several important appointments, returned to Canada, dying in Quebec in February, 1863, and was buried with military honours. His body was after- wards removed to Three Rivers, and lies by the side of his wife. Major R. J. Evans, now resident in Toronto, to whom I am indebted for the above particulars, as also tor the valuable paper to be found elsewhere, is a son of General Evans. APPENDIX No. 4. " Guests from the ' Royal ' stroll frequently to the grassy ramparts of old Fort George, whose irregular outlines are still to be traced in the open plains which now surround it. Here landed in 1783-84, ten thousand United APPENDICES. 211 of 1 a Empire Loyalists who, to keep inviolate their oaths of allegiance to the King, •quitted their freeholds and positions of trust and honour in the States to begin life anew in the unbroken wilds of Upper Canada. " History has made us somewhat familiar with the settlement of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick by the expatriated Loyalists. Little has bee.: written of tne sufferings and privations endured by 'the makers' of Upper ■Canada. "With the present revival of interest in American history, it i> singular that writers do not awaken a curiosity about the Loyalists of the Revolution. Students and specialists who have investigated the story of a flight, equalled only by that of the Huguenots after the Revocation of the Indict of Nantes, have been led to admire the spirit ot unselfish patriotism which led over one hundred thousand fugitives to self-exile. While the Pilgrim leathers came to America leisurely, bringing their household goods and their charters with them, the United Empire Loyalists, it has been well said, ' bleeding with the wounds of seven years of war, left ungathered the crops of their rich farms on the Mohawk and in New Jersey, and, stripped of every earthly possession, braved the terrors of the unbroken wilderness from the Mohawk to Lake Ontario.'" — Jane Meade Welsh, in Harper's New Montltly for August, 1887. " 1812 — like the characters on the labarum of Constantine — is a sign of solemn import to the people of Canada. It carries with it the virtue of an incantation. Like the magic numerals of the Arabian sage, these words, in their utterance, quicken the pulse, and vibrate through the frame, summon- ing from the pregnant past memories of suffering and endurance and of honourable exertion. They are inscribed on the banner and stamped on the hearts of the Canadian people — a watchword rather than a war cry. With these words upon his lips, the loyal Canadian, as a vigilant sentinel, looks forth into the gloom, ready with his challenge, hopeful for a friendly response but prepared for any other. The people of Canada are proud of the men, and of the deeds, and of the recollections of those days. They feel that the Warof 1812 is an episode in the story of a young people, glorious in itself and full of promise. They believe that the infant which, in its very cradle, could strangle invasion, struggle and endure bravely and without repining, is capable of a nobler development, if God wills further trial." — Coffin's Chron- icles of the War, Chapter I., preamble. )ld ns ed APPENDIX No. 5. [Mr. Le Moine, in "Quebec Past and Present," states that slavery was finally abolished in Canada in 1803.] "Near Fort George, less than a century ago, stood the first Parliament House of Upper Canada — a building rude in comparison with the massive pile, the Bishop's Palace, used for a similar purpose at Quebec — but memorable for one at least of the many liberal laws ■( 4i-i! 212 APPENDICES. its homespun representatives enacted. Here, seventy years before President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, the first United Empire Loyalist Par- liament, like the embattled farmers at Concord, ' fired a shot heard round the world.' For one of the first measures of the exiled patricians was to pass an act forbidding slavery. Few readers know that at Newark — now Niagara, Ontario — was enacted that law by which Canada became, not only the first country in the world to abolish slavery, but as such, a safe refuge for the fugitive slaves from the Southern States." — yatie Meade Welsh, in Harper's Nt'w Monthly, August, 1887. APPENDIX No. C. [The Twenty-fourth or Seconfl Warwickshire Regiment, now the South Wales Borderers, is of ancient and gallant fame. On its colours are inscribed "Egypt," " Cape of Good Hope," " Talavera," " Fuentes d'Onor," " Sala- manca," " Vittoria," "Pyrenees," " Nivelle," " Orthes," " Peninsula "—a goodly show.] To us, perhaps, the claims of the Regiment upon our admiration are eclipsed by those upon our pity when we remember the terrible disaster of Isaudula in 1879, when six companies of the Regiment v/ere cut to pieces, and as it was at first feared, the colours lost. But it was not so ; several com- panies of the 1st Battalion had fought in the victorious affair of Rorke's Drift the day before, and "Lieutenant Bromhead " says the Daily Nejvs of Feb. 21, 1879 : " ist Battalion, 24th Regiment, and Lieutenant Chard, R.E., left in charge of the Drift with a company of the 24th Regiment, first received "ti- mation of the disaster [at Isandula] from fugitives making for the Drift. Lieutenant Coghill with others rode away to communicate with Helpmakaar, and were killed by Zulus in crossing the river." With Lieutenant Coghill was Lieutenant Melville carrying the colours. The company holding the Drift was annihilated by the on-rushing savages, and no tidings of the colours could be gained until some days after when, behind a mound, were found the bodies of the two brave Lieutenants, one of whom grasped the pole with hands stiffened in death and around the other the precious flag was wound, " safe on the heart of a soldier." The following touching lines will be welcome to the lover of noble deeds i it is to be regretted that the name of the poet cannot also be given : — THE LOST COLOURS. Who said we had lost the Colours ? Who carried the tale away. And whispered it low in England, ' With the deeds of that awful day ? The story was washed, they tell us. Freed from a touch of shame — . Washed in the blood of those who died, Told in their sacred name. 213 APPENDICES. But they said we had lost the Colours, x»ruM ^^® Colours were safe, you see ; While the story was told in England Over the restless sea. "^W had not the heart to blame us, When they knew what the day had cost • i\ ^^u * '^® ^^^"^^ °^ 'he silence laid On the Colours they thought were lost. And now to its farthest limit They will listen and hear our cry • How could the Colours be lost, I say While one was left to die ? Safe on the heart of a soldier, Where else could the Colours be ' I do not say they were found again. For they never were lost, you see. Safe on the heart of a soldier, Knotted close to his side, Proudly lie on the quiet breast. Washed in the crimson tide ! For the heart is silent forever. Stirred by no flitting breath. And the Colours he saved are a fitting shroud And meet for a soldier's death. ^iu^ '^°r« ^^o»'d they know in England ' .Ihe Colours were lost, they said • And all the time they were safe, of course, 1 hough the soldier himself was dead. he hand was stiff, and the heart was cold And feeble the stalwart limb ; But he was one of the Twenty-fourth, So the Colours were safe with him.' ,8j''lin"7'°K ";''''^'''^'"''' '" >he Toronto «.„,«, Saturday. J„ly ,6, I^LJL%^,1T' °' '"'"'-' " '""^^ "'■°- ^^""P-"'" ^--^ been "N'O LONGER THE TWENTY-FOURTH." How the Heroes 0/ Isandhlwana came to be called South Wales Borderers. •• In the London Graphic there have appeared lately several good articles headed ' Types of the British Army,' with excellent full-sheet coLred us by eminent artists, of men in marching order or otherwise belonging to the corps on which the article is written. The last one is in the Graph coi April ^ailan'm ""■'' '° 'P^^^^' ^"' ^^« P'^'^^ ^P^-"'^ - soldier oth gallant a4th Regiment. Much has been said by old officers and soldiers in the press relative to the abolition of the time-honoured numbers of the old orps called the South Wales ^grderers.' And not only did the historical old ! ™:r; 214 Al'PKNDICES. ill number disappear from the Army List, according to the new system, but they lost their green facings, and now wear the white, which all regiments, English and Welsh, according to the territorial system, have to wear. The Irish wear green, the Scotch yellow, and all Royal regiments wear blue. Ihe Artillery and 6oth Rifles have red facings, and the Rifle Brigade black. Corps on the line now go by territorial titles. First and second battalions and many old regiments are joined to other old corps which formerly had nothing whatever to do with the county or province from which they now derive their title." In connection with this a former captain in the 46th writes to the Montreal Witness as follows : " It may be interesting to many to know the reason why regiments now bear their new titles ; and, as the writer was intimately acquainted with the 24th before the fearful calamity at Isandhlwana — where they were annihilated in 1879 by the Zulus and was stationed with them in Brecon, South \Vales> he can give the rather curious origin of their present title. " Some time before the Zulu campaign, there were many sweeping changes made in the army, amongst them being the abolition of numbers, and an order was icsued that all members of militia, yeomanry and volunteers at home should have their adjutants appointed from officers serving on full pay with the regiments of cavalry or infantry, and that the artillery, militia and volunteers, should have their adjutants from the Royal Artillery or Marine Artillery ; the appointment to last for five years, and at the expiration of that time the officer to return to his corps, and another one to succeed him. The writer was at that time adjutant of the 46th Regiment, and the first to be thus appointed to the Royal Brecon Rifles, South Wales — a small corps of only four companies. There was another smaller corps of only two companies in the adjoining county, Radnorshire, and, perhaps for economy's sake, it was ordered that both of these corps should be made one regiment. Each wanted to retain its old militia designation, but it was decided by the officers to give them a totally new one, and they were christened the ' South Wales Borderers.' " Brecon was made a depot centre, and the 24th Regiment weie to recruit and have their depots there. Being then without a title they took that of the local militia, and are, therefore, now the ' ist and 2nd Battalions South Wales Borderers.' But they will always be known as the time-honoured 24th, who lost one colonel, one major, four captains, fourteen lieutenants and seven entire companies, including band, buglers and drummer boys, at Isandhlwana. Lieu- tenants Melville and Coghill, on that occasion, seeing that all was lost, attempted to save the colours. Melville was first hit, and Coghill turned back to share his fate. The colours were afterwards found in the bed of the Buffalo River, and when brought home Her Majesty tied a small wreath of immor- tell'^s on the staff head at Osborne. They are still in the possession of the regiment, and the wreath presented by Her Majesty is preserved in a hand- some hermetically-sealed oak box, mounted in silver." APPENDICES. APPENDIX No. 7. 215 ViJnv^'n^r^ ''"^' 'u' '''"■ ^"^ *""^^'" ^'"'"- ^'-'n^ind.ng one of Alfred de V.ffny, and approaching the elegance and polish of that poet ' beauty of form '1^ r " ' ' "'^"°"' evince originality and tiiHprfiri r^r,-,^- r • alien 01 us as nave not vet con- idered Canadian Literature worthy of especial regard would do well to hunt up the numerous volumes that lie all but unknown upon booksdl rs she ves and convince themselves that there is a fipld nf in, m . , '^" snc.ves, .hen, „r„hich .hey .ay >. iJyZJt:! r^J^lT '"^°'"'"' °"°" "