American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1875-04-17
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS.


rude log house; a bitter February day
near its close; the cold intense; al
around outside, the picture of desola
ton; tall trees, gaunt and leafiess, up
rearing skeleton arms to the murky sky
A thaw had set in, and at every step you
take out of doors you sink ankle-deer
in the soft snow. Indoors is dreary; the
cold air is forced through many a chink
Upon that night my fingers were be
ing Of depression seized me such as had
never felt before. Save for my baby ]
was alone. My little child, indeed, gave
me employment for hands and mind; il
had been ailing, and its pretty face
looked pinched and wan, with hectic
flush on it, and its little hands were hot
and feverish. had been frightened
about it all day, as it lay moaning in my
arms; but now, as sleep closed its eyes
deepening and growing tranquil-my
mind, relieved about it, began to revert
to my own loneliness. With a heavy
heart I looked around the scantily-fur.
nished room, where all the articles were
of the cOmmonest kind; at the partition
of rough boards which divided the hut
int compartments; at the fire which had
burned down, and was a heap of white
ashes. Replenishing this last. and fan
ming 1t into flame, gave me fresh occu-
patton. 1t was not easy to make. the
damp, green logs catch fire. And at last,
weary with the effort, cold and nervous,
l burst into q fit of impatient tears.
was indeed desolate; divided by at
least mile from any human being, in
the heart Of forest, the small portion
Of cleared land round our cottage show
ing forth more plainly, as it were, the
density of the surrounding woods. My
husband the day before had gone to a
town some miles distant to obtain a sum
of money due to him for the sale of cat
tie. He had left me alone with my one
female servant, solely against his will /;
but 1t was impossible to avoid going, and
equally impossible to take me and my
sick baby with him. l had never been
without him night since our arrival in
the bush, and l felt miserably weak and
nervous as night came, and morning
dawned, and day again faded into night,
and still kept him. One comfort was my
child. My servant had been summoned
that morning to go to her father, who lay
dangerously i'll some distance off; and
though missed her much, there was
nothing for it but resignation. And now
that my husband had not returned 1 be-
gan to fear that l should have to spend
the night alone with my baby. Before
the fire, now beginning to burn DULY, l
sat on the ground. The shade of even
ing fell fast, and a thick haze was dim
ming the small panes of the one window.
All me! crOuching thus ON the cherries
hearth, listening to the soft breathing
from the cradle where nestled my treas
ure, my thoughts went wandering, rav-
cling backward; my heart was too op-
pressed to look forward. As far as human
companionship went, was, but for my
baby, alone; but had one faithful friend
with me-a dog, q rough haired Irish ter
rier. We had had him some time, and
the faithful creature seemed to us to
have more than canine sagacity. Now,
IS sat brooding, he placed one paw on
my lap; then his cold nose rested on my
folded hands. "Poor Ter" said aloud
and the sound of my ow n voice, break
ing the stiffness, made me start" poor
fellows" then, stroking his rough coat,
relapsed into thought. Far away from
the dark Canadian forest-far away,
indeed, my memory carried me. l
saw rise before me a e-embowered
cottage, its windows opening on a slop-
ing lawn, at the foot of which ran a rip
ping river; pretty lawn studded with
trees, an orchard close by, bright with
blossoms, giving promise of golden and
russell fruit, the sweet scent filling the
air; underneath a spreading elm rus
tic seat, and girl resting thereon. From
an open French window issues forth a
gentleman, old and gray-haired, but
erect and stately still-the village doc
tor, my father. In that house / was
born; by that riverside passed my youth;
underneath that spreading elm dreamed
/ my foolish romantic DIRE ams-built my
castles in the air. Under that dear
fathers loving care l was simply, calmly
happy; no sorrow came near me. Alas!
he died-died in the discharge of his
duty, and was left alone to commence
the struggle of life. The speculation in
which my fathers whole savings were
embarked proved a failure and all was
lost. Determined to be up and doing, l
became companion to a lady, but daily
found the life grow more distasteful.
But just when hope seemed dead within
me my life was suddenly frightened by
the possession of the love of my brave
and faithful Jack.
We were married. Things did not 20
on quite well in worldly matters, and
we had trials; but we were SO much to
each other, and Jack was SO strong and
brave, that they were not very difficult to
bear. At last came q day when he de-
termined to emigrate and we came to
Canada He had q good knowledge of
farming and thought he would get ON.
80 with the little money he had he pur-
chased this place and was now trying to
get living out of it. He had had hard
work enough. We were poor, and could
not get proper help to clear the land, and
Jack had to depend a great deal on his
own strong arms and clear head. But,
thank God, neither failed him. He never
gave up hope; when things looked their
worst he was ever calmly brave; his
strong heart never gave way. He used
sometimes to say words of self-reproach
for having married and brought me to
face such a hard struggle. My dear Jack
he need not have 80 spoken or thought.
cared for nothing in the life he had res
cued me from. 1 regretted sometimes
was not stronger more useful helpmate
for him. But / was only too glad to
rough 1t with him, and strong in the will
to do all l could to set his mind at ease
on my account
And tonight all this came before me
my dear, dead father, my absent hus
band; and SO l sat dreaming on unit
the darkness had quite fallen, and
awokc with start to the realities of the
present. The fire had begun to cracklt
loudly, shedding a bright light around
dancing and flashing on the timbers ant
filling the room with crimson glow.
went to the window and drew the screen
/ did not close the shutter, thinking thai
if he did come home tonight he woulC
like to see the CHEEKY light in token OF
welcome. / went to the next room, useC
as kitchen, softly followed by the dog
and bringing forth some candles Ii
one. / had to be sparing of them, TO
my stock was but small; but tonight
could not bear the shadows cast in tn
corners by the Pickering of the fire.
scarcely expected Jack. Still hope woul'
whisper: "He may come" But tn
hnura OrpW infn NIGHT and still tn