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

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Very early in my childhood I was made to witness scenes and listen to sounds which were more of "hell than earth," and which made me, even then, a profound hater of the vile stuff, as also of the viler traffic.

My father, who was a strong temperance man, had many a "close call" in his endeavors to stop this trade, and to save the Indians from its influence, incurring the hatred of both white and red men of the vilest class.

Once when I was walking with him through the Indian village of Newash, I saw an Indian under the influence of liquor come at us with his gun pointed. I was greatly startled, and wondered what father would do; but he merely stood to face him, and, unbuttoning his coat, dared the Indian to shoot him. This bold conduct on father's part made the drunken fellow slink away, muttering as he went. Ah! thought I, what a brave man father is! and this early learned object-lesson was not lost on the little boy who saw it all.

Whiskey, wickedness and cowardice were on one side, and on the other, manliness, pluck and righteousness.