We were now fairly among the mountains, and the sun was well down
behind the trees when we entered upon the post-road. It proved to be a
wide, well-built highway, grass-grown, but in good condition. After an
hour’s travel we began to see signs of a clearing, and about six
o’clock drew up in front of the long, low, log habitation of La Chance.
Their hearthstone was outdoor at this season, and its smoke rose
through the still atmosphere in a frail column toward the sky. The
family was gathered here and welcomed us cordially as we drew up, the
master shaking us by the hand as if we were old friends. His English
was very poor, and our French was poorer, but, with Joe as a bridge
between us, communication on a pinch was kept up. His wife could speak
no English; but her true French politeness and graciousness was a
language we could readily understand. Our supper was got ready from our
own supplies, while we sat or stood in the open air about the fire. The
clearing comprised fifty or sixty acres of rough land in the bottom of
a narrow valley, and bore indifferent crops of oats, barley, potatoes,
and timothy grass. The latter was just in bloom, being a month or more
later than with us. The primitive woods, mostly of birch with a
sprinkling of spruce, put a high cavernous wall about the scene. How
sweetly the birds sang, their notes seeming to have unusual strength
and volume in this forest-bound opening! The principal singer was the
white-throated sparrow, which we heard and saw everywhere on the route.
He is called here _le siffleur_ (the whistler), and very delightful his
whistle was. From the forest came the evening hymn of a thrush, the
olive-backed perhaps, like but less clear and full than the veery’s.
In the evening we sat about the fire in rude homemade chairs, and had
such broken and disjointed talk as we could manage. Our host had lived
in Quebec and been a school-teacher there; he had wielded the birch
until he lost his health, when he came here and the birches gave it
back to him. He was now hearty and well, and had a family of six or
seven children about him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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