CHAPTER XX.

 CHAPTER XX.  FOUND OUT. 1833. A solemn stillness pervaded the once happy home on the hill, a stillness broken only by the sighing of the wind through the poplar trees. The stately, noble form of the queen of the household, who held sway over so many hearts, lay sleeping beneath the daisies in the cemetery not far distant. She had never been well after the shock occasioned by the sudden death of her eldest son. One by one the young people went forth to homes of their own. Abbie, having awakened at last to a realization of the truth of her father's prediction regarding Thomas Brigham, had long since married that wealthy lumberman. In his loneliness and sorrow came a call to the Chief to higher and harder work in his country's service. The County of York, in which Hull was situated, had a sufficiently large population to entitle it to representation in the Legislative Assembly, and, as the representation of the Province had been increased to eighty-four members, the electors of the county were called upon to choose their representative. Elections in those days were not so much a question of political opinion with the electors as personal preference and local considerations, so the Chief was elected by acclamation, and took his seat in the House as an independent member, the name of the constituency being changed to that of Ottawa County. The members, who in those days had not the prospect of a large indemnity to nail them to their seats, frequently deserted the Legislative Hall long before the session was over, notwithstanding which the White Chief was ever in his place, and voted intelligently on the burning questions of the day. While attending session at Quebec, he sat down to breakfast on one occasion with the son of his old friend, Louis Joseph Papineau, who was Speaker of the House at the time, and who happened to be staying at the same hotel. "I hear that a town is springing up like a mushroom on the opposite side of the river from Hull," said Mr. Papineau; "and that property on that side of the river has greatly enhanced in value." "It has," replied the Chief. "The whole Carman grant, from the Rideau to the Chaudiere, comprising about one thousand acres, was sold to Hugh Fraser a few years ago for ten pounds. Later a man named Burroughs bought two hundred acres which he tried to sell to me for sufficient to pay his passage to England, in order to secure a legacy which had been left him. I would not have accepted it as a gift at that time, for it was all marsh land. He succeeded in getting Nicholas Sparks to take it for ￡95, and I indorsed his notes for the amount. Not long since Sparks sold eighty acres of it to Colonel By for several thousand pounds sterling. The Colonel drained it, divided it into town lots, and is now asking a fabulous price for it.* * The same eighty acres was disposed of by Colonel By a few years later for half a million pounds sterling. "How is the town laid out?" asked Mr. Papineau. "There are a few scattered houses on a street which has been called after the Duke of Wellington, about half a dozen at Le Breton Flats, and east of the canal there are two streets called Sussex and Rideau, on which there are quite a number of houses and four shops, kept by Scotchmen. There are also two civilian barracks, facing each other near Sussex Street, for the canal workers. "I rode over a few days ago and was astonished to see the rapid progress the place is making. Crossing the wooden bridge at the Chaudiere, which Colonel By succeeded in building after many fruitless attempts, I drove through Le Breton's farm to the gully recently bridged by Lieutenant Pooley, then, skirting the cliff on which the Episcopal church is being erected on a lot given by Sparks, and passing the Scotch church, I drove through the woods along a corduroy road which wound round the foot of Barracks Hill, or the Military Reserve, to Sappers' Bridge, and found that the Colonel had so transformed the lower part of the town by drainage as to make it beyond recognition. The swamp and even the creek have disappeared. There is about half a mile of unbroken forest between the upper and lower parts of the town. The houses are built in the midst of huge old boulders and masses of rock, and are hidden from each other by lofty pines and thick underbrush." "What is its population?" asked Mr. Papineau. "I should say about two thousand," he replied. "And they are mostly of the lowest class of Irish, who are very awkward. What they are used to doing they do fairly well, but it seems impossible to teach them anything new. If they can dig out for themselves a mud cabin in the side of a hill they would never dream of building one of wood. "Near the works is a place called Corktown, where the workmen have burrowed in the sandhills. Smoke is seen to rise out of holes which have been opened in the ground to answer the purpose of chimneys. In these miserable dwellings whole families are huddled together worse than in Ireland. "McTaggart says," continued the Chief, "that the engineers and contractors cannot get them to keep out of the way of their own blasts, and that he has more than once seen heads, legs and arms blown in all directions; and when given a spade and pick they have to exercise eternal vigilance to keep them from digging their own graves." Dr. Bigsby then took his seat at the table. "You look as though you had been carousing, Doctor," said Mr. Papineau. "I was, in a way," he replied. "I remained up most of the night to see the charivari. I have seen it in France," he said, "but I think the French-Canadian has improved upon the original. In this country it is evidently intended to reach offenders against propriety and the public sense of honor. Ill-assorted marriages seem to be its special objects here. You know Adjutant Randall, do you not?" addressing Mr. Papineau. "Yes," he replied, "quite well." "He was married yesterday," continued the doctor, "to the widow of a wealthy brewer. She was of good French family, and resembled the famous widow of Kent in having a large annual income. She is not young, and for aught I know may have thrown off her weeds too soon. "Last evening, when in my room, I heard the most incomprehensible noises, gradually drawing nearer and nearer. A broad red light soon began to glare upon the houses and fill the street. The throng slowly arrived and slowly passed the door, and as you honorable gentlemen were probably in session I shall try and describe some parts of the show. "First came a strange figure, masked, with a cocked hat and sword; then came strutting a little humpbacked creature in brown, red and yellow, with beak and tail. Fifteen or sixteen people followed in the garb of Indians, some with cow-horns on their heads. Then came two men in white shirts, bearing a paper coffin of great size, lighted from within and having skulls, cross-bones and initials painted in black on its sides. This was surrounded by men blowing horns, beating pot-lids, poker and tongs, whirling rattles, whistling, and so on. "To these succeeded a number of Chinese lanterns, some aloft on high poles and mixed with blazing torches, small flags, black and white, and more rough music. Close after came more torches, clatter and fantastic disguises, the whole surrounded by a large rabble who kept up an irregular fire of yells which could be heard a mile away. "They perambulated the whole city before proceeding to the ill-fated mansion of the bride, but at last they arrived at her door and drew up before it. The large handsome house was silent and dark—the window shades were closed. There was evidently to be no friendly feast, for in many cases, I believe, the attack is met courteously with lighted halls and a cold collation to the principal actors, when the din and hubbub generally ceases and the thing ends; but it was not so in the charivari of last night. "The crowd was puzzled, but showed pluck. It brayed and blew and roared and shook torch and lantern, and might have done so all night long, as it appeared to me, standing at a cowardly distance, when suddenly the large front door opened and out rushed the manly figure of the Adjutant with ten or twelve assistants in plain clothes (brother officers, I fear) armed with cudgels. "To work they went upon the defenceless crowd, and especially among the masquers, where the torches gave useful light. The whole attack and flight was an affair of five minutes. The fun-loving crowd, actors and spectators, fled, and gone in an incredibly short space of time were torches, lanterns, coffin, kettles and buffalo-horns. "The unhappy little hunchback was seized by the bridegroom, who began to pound him, but he most piteously confessed that he was Mr. ——, editor of the ——, a local paper. He was dismissed with a shake, and told that in future cripples in charivaris would be treated as able-bodied men. "The affair so unnerved the bride that she escaped through the back door and took rooms here." Just then an officer entered, and the doctor said: "Good morning, Adjutant! How is Mrs. Randall?" Suddenly he caught sight of the Chief, who sat back in his chair gazing at him in mute astonishment, for it was none other than Harold Wrenford. "She is much better, thank you," he said, "but I forgot her medicine," and he hastened from the room. "How long have you known the Adjutant?" asked the Chief. "Only recently," replied the doctor. "I have known him for years," replied Mr. Papineau. "I knew him when he was a young lieutenant in the Citadel. He sold his commission, went abroad, and returned a few years ago with his pockets full of money, purchased an adjutancy, and he has been regarded by the weaker sex as one of the greatest catches in Quebec." In less than half an hour Adjutant and Mrs. Randall were seen driving down towards the docks, where they took passage in a vessel bound for Liverpool.