Читать книгу Forest, Lake and Prairie. Twenty Years of Frontier Life in Western Canada—1842-62 онлайн

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Sometimes I went with father to his appointments to preach in the homes of the new settlers. What deep snow, what narrow roads, what great, dark, sombre woods we drove through! How solemn the meetings in those humble homes! How poor some of the people were—little clearings in great forests; rough, unhewn logs, with trough roofs. How those people did sing! What loud amens! I almost seem to hear them now.

I had an uncle settled in the bush not far from Owen Sound. I remember distinctly going with him and his family to meeting one winter's day. We had a yoke of oxen and a big sleigh. "Whoa! Haw! Gee!" and the old woods rang as we drove slowly to that "Gospel meeting" through the deep, deep snow in those early days. Then, as now, the cursed liquor traffic was to the front, and many a white man went by the board and ruined himself and family under its baneful influence. Many a poor Indian was either burned, or drowned, or killed in some other way, because of the trade which was carried on through this death-dealing stuff. The white man's cupidity, and selfishness, and gross brutality too often found a victim in his weaker red brother.