Around yon bluff, whose pine crest hides
    The noisy rapids from our sight,
  Another bark—­another glides—­
    Red meteors of the murky night. 
  The bosom of the silent stream
    With mimic stars is dotted free;
  The waves reflect the double gleam,
  The tall woods lighten in the beam,
    Through darkness shining cheerily!

CHAPTER XVI

BURNING THE FALLOW

  There is a hollow roaring in the air—­
  The hideous hissing of ten thousand flames,
  That from the centre of yon sable cloud
  Leap madly up, like serpents in the dark,
  Shaking their arrowy tongues at Nature’s heart.

It is not my intention to give a regular history of our residence in the bush, but merely to present to my readers such events as may serve to illustrate a life in the woods.

The winter and spring of 1834 had passed away.  The latter was uncommonly cold and backward; so much so that we had a very heavy fall of snow upon the 14th and 15th of May, and several gentlemen drove down to Cobourg in a sleigh, the snow lying upon the ground to the depth of several inches.

A late, cold spring in Canada is generally succeeded by a burning hot summer; and the summer of ’34 was the hottest I ever remember.  No rain fell upon the earth for many weeks, till nature drooped and withered beneath one bright blaze of sunlight; and the ague and fever in the woods, and the cholera in the large towns and cities, spread death and sickness through the country.

Moodie had made during the winter a large clearing of twenty acres around the house.  The progress of the workmen had been watched by me with the keenest interest.  Every tree that reached the ground opened a wider gap in the dark wood, giving us a broader ray of light and a clearer glimpse of the blue sky.  But when the dark cedar-swamp fronting the house fell beneath the strokes of the axe, and we got a first view of the lake, my joy was complete; a new and beautiful object was now constantly before me, which gave me the greatest pleasure.  By night and day, in sunshine or in storm, water is always the most sublime feature in a landscape, and no view can be truly grand in which it is wanting.  From a child, it always had the most powerful effect upon my mind, from the great ocean rolling in majesty, to the tinkling forest rill, hidden by the flowers and rushes along its banks.  Half the solitude of my forest home vanished when the lake unveiled its bright face to the blue heavens, and I saw sun and moon, and stars and waving trees reflected there.  I would sit for hours at the window as the shades of evening deepened round me, watching the massy foliage of the forests pictured in the waters, till fancy transported me back to England, and the songs of birds and the lowing of cattle were sounding in my ears.  It was long, very long, before I could discipline my mind to learn and practice all the menial employments which are necessary in a good settler’s wife.