Life in the Backwoods

Life in the Backwoods, by
Susanna Moodie

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Title: Life in the Backwoods
Author: Susanna Moodie

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LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS,
A SEQUEL TO
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH.
BY SUSANNA MOODIE,
Author of "LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS," "FLORA LYNDSAY,"
"GEOFFREY MONCTON," etc., etc.
I sketch from Nature, and the picture's true; Whate'er the subject,
whether grave or gay, Painful experience in a distant land Made it mine
own.
NEW YORK:
JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY,
14 AND 16 VESEY STREET.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
--A Journey to the Woods--Corduroy Roads--No Ghosts in Canada
CHAPTER II.
--The Wilderness and our Indian Friends--The House on Fire--No
Papoose; the Mother all alone
CHAPTER III.
--Running the Fallow--A Wall of Fire--"But God can save us yet."
CHAPTER IV.
--Our Logging Bee--"Och! my ould granny taught me."--Signal
Mercies
CHAPTER V.
--A Trip to Stony Lake--A Feast in an Outhouse--The Squatter's Log
Hut
CHAPTER VI.
--Disappointed Hopes--Milk, Bread and Potatoes our only Fare-- The
Deer Hunt
CHAPTER VII.
--The Little Stumpy Man--Hiding from the Sheriff--An ill-natured
volunteer

CHAPTER VIII.
--The Fire--"Oh, dear Mamma, do save Papa's Flute"--"No time to be
clane!"
CHAPTER IX.
--The Outbreak--Moodie joins the Volunteers--"Scribblin' and
Scrabblin' when you should be in bed"
CHAPTER X.
--The Whirlwind--Two Miles of Trees Levelled to the Ground--Sick
Children
CHAPTER XI.
--The Walk to Dummer--Honest, Faithful Jenny--A sad History-- Tried
and Found most Faithful
CHAPTER XII.
--A Change in our Prospects--In a Canoe--Nearing the Rapids--
Dandelion Coffee
CHAPTER XIII.
--The Magic Spell--"The Sleighs are Come!"--Leaving the Bush--End
of Life in the Backwoods

LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS
A SEQUEL TO
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH.

* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS.
'Tis well for us poor denizens of earth That God conceals the future
from our gaze; Or Hope, the blessed watcher on Life's tower, Would
fold her wings, and on the dreary waste Close the bright eye that
through the murky clouds Of blank Despair still sees the glorious sun.
It was a bright, frosty morning when I bade adieu to the farm, the
birthplace of my little Agnes, who, nestled beneath my cloak, was
sweetly sleeping on my knee, unconscious of the long journey before
us into the wilderness. The sun had not as yet risen. Anxious to get to
our place of destination before dark, we started as early as we could.
Our own fine team had been sold the day before for forty pounds; and
one of our neighbours, a Mr. D----, was to convey us and our household
goods to Douro for the sum of twenty dollars. During the week he had
made several journeys, with furniture and stores; and all that now
remained was to be conveyed to the woods in two large lumber-sleighs,
one driven by himself, the other by a younger brother.
It was not without regret that I left Melsetter, for so my husband had
called the place, after his father's estate in Orkney. It was a beautiful,
picturesque spot; and, in spite of the evil neighbourhood, I had learned
to love it; indeed, it was much against my wish that it was sold. I had a
great dislike to removing, which involves a necessary loss, and is apt to
give to the emigrant roving and unsettled habits. But all regrets were
now useless; and happily unconscious of the life of toil and anxiety that
awaited us in those dreadful woods, I tried my best to be cheerful, and
to regard the future with a hopeful eye.
Our