Claas Telehandlers RANGER 907T

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DescriptionClaas Telehandlers RANGER 907T Operator’s Manual_FR DE EN
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with my week's work because it is of basswood, which he says does
not hold.'

'Are those the rails which I helped to split?'

Be it noticed here that Mr. Wynn the elder could not bear to be
totally dependent on his sons, nor to live the life of a faineant while
they laboured so hard; he demanded some manual task, and believed
himself of considerable use, while they had often to undo his work
when he turned his back; and at all times the help was chiefly
imaginary. No matter, it pleased him; and they loved the dear old
gentleman too well to undeceive him.

'As to the potash business, sir, I fear it is too complicated and

expensive to venture upon this year, though the creek is an excellent
site for an ashery, and they say the manufacture is highly
remunerating. What do you think, father?' And they had a conference
that diverged far from potash.

After closely watching Davidson's management, and finding that he

realized twenty-eight shillings per hundredweight, Robert resolved to
try the manufacture. Details would be tedious. Both reader and writer
might lose themselves in leach-tubs, ash-kettles, and coolers. The
'help,' Liberia, proved herself valuable out of doors as well as indoors
at this juncture; for Mrs. Zack's principle of up-bringing was that young
folk should learn to turn their hand to 'most everythin'. And Libby, a
large plump girl with prodigiously red cheeks and lips, had profited so
far by her training as to be nearly as clever in the field as in the
kitchen. Her great strength was a constant subject of admiration to
Andy, though the expression of any such sentiment was met by
unmitigated scorn on the lady's part.

'Why, thin, Miss Green, an' it's yerself has the beautifullest arm, all to
nothing', that ever I see; an' it's mottled brown with freckles, an' as big
as a blacksmith's anyhow. Och, an' look how she swings up the potash
kettle as light as if it was only a stone pot; musha, but yer the finest
woman, my darlin', from this to yerself all round the world agin!'
 'I guess, Mister Handy, if yer was to bring some logs, an' not to
stand philanderin' thar, 'twould be a sight better,' rejoined Miss Liberia
sourly.

'Look now,' answered Andy; 'ye couldn't make yerself ugly musthore,
not if yer wor thryin' from this till then, so ye needn't frown; but ye're
very hard-hearted intirely on a poor orphant like me, that has nayther
father nor mother, nor as much as an uncle, nor a cousin near me
itself. Though sorra bit o' me but 'ud sooner never have one belongin'
to me than thim out-an-out disgraceful cousins of yer own at the
"Corner."'

Libby was immovable by this as by any other taunt, to all

appearance. 'Throth, I thried her every way,' quoth Andy subsequently,
after an experience of some months; 'I thried her by flatthery an' by
thruth-tellin', by abusing her relations an' herself, an' by praisin' 'em,
by appalin' to her compassion an' by bein' stiff an' impident, an' I
might as well hould me tongue. A woman that couldn't be coaxed wid
words, I never seen afore.'

Perhaps she was the better servant for this disqualification; at all
events, she had no idea of any nonsense keeping her from the full
discharge of her duties in the house. Her propensity to call the
gentlemen by their baptismal names, without any respectful prefix,
was viewed by Linda as a very minor evil when set off against strength
and willing-heartedness. But one day that she wanted her young
mistress, and abruptly put her head into the parlour, asking, in a strong
tone, 'Whar's Linda? Tell her the men that's settin' the fall wheat'll be
'long in no time for dinner,' Mr. Wynn could have turned her away on
the spot.

'Wal! sure it ain't no sin to forget the "miss" of an odd time, I guess,'
was the large damsel's rejoinder, though without the least spice of
sauciness. 'Come, I hain't no time to be spendin' here;' and she closed
the door after her with a bang which made gentle Mrs. Wynn start.
There was some trouble in convincing her husband that it was only the
servant's rough manner—no real disrespect was intended; the incident
put him into low spirits for the day, and turned many a backward
thought upon the wealth of his youth.

He would say, in these downcast moods, that Canada was no place

for the gentleman emigrant; but could he point out any colony more
suited? Also, that his sons earned daily bread by harassing toil, worse
than that of a bricklayer or day labourer at home; but were they not
happier than in pursuit of mere pastime like thousands of their equals
in the province they had left? Robert would certainly have answered in
the affirmative. Arthur's restless spirit less wisely pined for the
pleasure-seeking of such a life as Argent's.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
TRITON AMONG MINNOWS.

inda was stooping one morning in the corner of her garden. Some
precious plant was there, protected from the full glare of the noon sun
by a calico shade, carefully adjusted, and with a circle of brown damp
 about it, which told of attentive watering. A few roundish
leaves were the object of all this regard; in the centre of the
knot to-day stood a little green knob on a short stem.

'Oh, Georgie! papa! come and look at my daisy; it has

actually got a bud.'

Master George, nothing loth to have lessons disturbed by

any summons, ran round from the open window through the
open hall door, and his father followed more slowly to behold
the marvel.

'You see, papa, I thought it never would get on, it was such a sickly
little thing; but it must be growing strong, or it could not put out a
bud. How glad I shall be to see a daisy's face again! I would give all
the fragrance of the blue wild iris for one. But, papa, the laurel cuttings
are dead, I fear.'

They looked very like it, though Mr. Wynn would still give them a
chance. He apprehended the extreme dryness of the air might prove
too much for the infant daisy also. But Linda would see nothing except
promise of prosperity as yet.

'Now, papa, when I am done with my melons, and you have finished
Georgie's lessons, I want you to walk down to Daisy Burn with me. I
have something to say to Edith.'

'With pleasure, my dear. But I have always wondered why that name
was given to that farm, except on the principle of lucus a non.'

After the mid-day dinner they went. Meeting Andy on the road,
trudging up from the 'Corner' on some message, he informed them
that the captain and his son had gone to a cradling-bee at Benson's,
an English settler a few miles off. 'But as to whether 'tis to make
cradles they want, or to rock 'em, meself doesn't rightly know.'

The fact being that a 'cradle,' in American farming, signifies a

machine for cutting down corn wholesale. It is a scythe, longer and
wider than that used in mowing hay, combined with an apparatus of
'standard,' 'snaith,' and 'fingers,' by means of which a single workman
may level two acres and a half of wheat or oats in one day.

'Captain Armytage is of a very sociable disposition,' remarked Mr.

Wynn, after a few steps. 'A man fresh from the mess table and clubs
must find the bush strangely unsuitable.' He was thinking of certain
petty occurrences at his own bee, which demonstrated the gallant
officer's weaknesses.

'Oh, papa, did you ever see anything like these vines? Grapes will be
as plentiful as blackberries are at home.' For along the concession line
many trees were festooned with ripening clusters; and deeper in the
woods, beyond Linda's ken, and where only the birds and wild animals
could enjoy the feast, whole hundredweights hung in gleams of
sunshine. Well might the Northmen, lighting upon Canadian shores in
one hot summer, many centuries before Cabot or Cartier, name the
country Vine-land; and the earliest French explorers up the St.
Lawrence call a grape-laden rock the Isle of Bacchus.

'But is it not a wonder, papa,' pressed the young lady, 'when the cold
is so terrible in winter? Do you remember all the endless trouble the
gardener at Dunore had to save his vines from the frost? And Robert
says that great river the Ottawa is frozen up for five months every
year, yet here the grapes flourish in the open air.'

'I suppose we are pretty much in the latitude of the Garonne,'

answered Mr. Wynn, casting about for some cause. 'But, indeed, Linda,
if your Canadian grape does not enlarge somewhat'—

'You unreasonable papa, to expect as fine fruit as in a hothouse or

sunny French vineyard. I really see no reason why we Canadians
should not have regular vineyards some day, and you would see how
our little grapes must improve under cultivation. Perhaps we might
make wine. Now, you dear clever papa, just turn your attention to that,
and earn for yourself the sobriquet of national benefactor.'
 Clinging to his arm as they walked, she chattered her best to amuse
the sombre mind, so lately uprooted from old habits and ways of life
into a mode of existence more or less distasteful. The birds aided her
effort with a variety of foreign music. Woodpigeon, bobolink, bluebird,
oriole, cooed and trilled and warbled from the bush all around. The
black squirrel, fat, sleek, jolly with good living of summer fruits,
scampered about the boughs with erect shaggy tail, looking a very
caricature upon care, as he stowed away hazel-nuts for the frosty
future. Already the trees had donned their autumn coats of many
colours; and the beauteous maple-leaves, matchless in outline as in
hue, began to turn crimson and gold. The moody man yielded to the
sweet influences of nature in a degree, and acknowledged that even
this exile land could be enjoyable.

Arriving at the snake fences of Armytage's farm, he said he would go

down to the post at the 'Corner' for letters, and call in an hour for
Linda on his return. She found Edith and Jay working hard as usual.
Their employment to-day was the very prosaic one of digging potatoes.
'What horrid occupation for a lady!' exclaims somebody. Yes; Miss
Armytage would have much preferred an afternoon spent in painting
flowers, for which she had a talent. But there was no help for such
manual labour in this case. Don't you imagine her pride suffered before
she took part in field work? I think so, by the deep blush that suffused
her face when she saw the visitor coming along, though it was only
Linda Wynn, who made some not very complimentary reflections on
the father and brother whose absence on an amusing expedition
permitted this,—whose general indolence compelled severe labour
from the girls. They were misplaced men, certainly, and had as much
business in the bush, with their tastes and habits, and want of self-
control, as Zack Bunting would have had in an English drawing-room.

Linda had been thinking over a plan, which, when uttered, was
proved to have also suggested itself to her friend. Could not something
be done in the way of a Sunday-school class for the miserable ignorant
children at the 'Corner'? Now the very rudiments of revealed religion
were unknown to them; and to spend an hour or two on the vacant
Sabbath in trying to teach them some of Heaven's lore, seemed as if it
might be the germ of great good. Miss Armytage, naturally not of
Linda's buoyant disposition, foresaw abundance of difficulties,—the
indifference or opposition of parents, the total want of discipline or
habits of thought among the young themselves. Still, it was worth
trying; if only a single childish soul should be illuminated with the light
of life to all eternity by this means, oh, how inestimably worth trying!

Mr. Wynn was seen coming up the clearing. 'I know papa has had a
letter,' exclaimed Linda, 'and that it is a pleasant one, by his pleasant
face. Confess now, Edith, isn't he the handsomest man you ever saw?'

Her friend laughed at the daughterly enthusiasm, but could have

answered in the affirmative, as she looked at his stately grey-crowned
figure and handsome features, lighted with a grave, kind smile, as
Linda took possession of his left arm—to be nearer his heart, she said.
She was not very long in coaxing from him the blue official letter which
contained his appointment to the magistracy of the district, about
which he pretended not to be a bit pleased.

'And there's some other piece of nonsense in that,' said he, taking
out a second blue envelope, and addressed to Arthur Wynn, Esquire.

'"Adjutant-General's Office,"' read Linda, from the corner. 'His

appointment to the militia, I am sure. That good, powerful Mr. Holt!'
Even at the name she coloured a little. 'He said that he would try and
have this done. And I am so glad you are taking your proper footing in
the colony, papa. Of course they should make you a magistrate. I
should like to know who has the dignified presence, or will uphold the
majesty of the law, as well as you?'

'Magistracy and militia—very different in this mushroom society from

what they are in the old country,' said Mr. Wynn despairingly.

'Well, papa, I have ambition enough to prefer being chief fungus

among the mushrooms, instead of least among any other class. Don't
you know how poverty is looked down upon at home? Here we are
valued for ourselves, not for our money. See how all the
neighbourhood looks up to Mr. Wynn of Cedar Creek. You are lord-
lieutenant of the county, without his commission: these men feel the
influence of superior education and abilities and knowledge.'

'I verily believe, saucebox, that you think your father fit to be
Governor-General; or, at least, a triton among the minnows.'

'Papa, the fun is, you'll have to marry people now, whenever you're
asked. It is part of a magistrate's duty in out-of-the-way places, Mr.
Holt says.'

'Then I am to consider my services bespoke by the young ladies

present, eh?' said Mr. Wynn, making a courtly inclination to Edith and
Jay. 'With the greatest pleasure.'
 CHAPTER XXXV.

THE PINK MIST.

Wynn became his magisterial functions well, though

exercised after a primitive fashion, without court-house or
bench whence to issue his decisions, without clerk to record
them, or police force to back them, or any other customary
paraphernalia of justice to render his office imposing. To be
sure, his fine presence was worth a great deal, and his
sonorous voice. As Linda predicted, he was obliged to
perform clerical duty at times, in so far as to marry folk who
lived beyond reach of a clergyman, and had thrice published
their intention in the most public part of the township. The
earliest of these transactions affianced one of Davidson's lads to a
braw sonsie lass, daughter of Benson, the Shropshire settler beyond
the 'Corner.' The bridegroom, a tall strapping young fellow of about
twenty-three, had a nice cottage ready for his wife, and a partially
cleared farm of a hundred acres, on which he had been working with
this homestead in view for the last year and a half. The prudent
Scotsman would portion off his other sons in similar respectability as
they came of age.

'And yer mither and I cam' here wi' an axe and a cradle,' he was
wont to say, 'eh, Jeanie Davidson?'

He had good cause for gratulation at the wedding that day. His own
indomitable industry and energy had raised him from being a
struggling weaver in Lanarkshire to be a prosperous landowner in
Canada West. He looked upon a flourishing family of sons and
daughters round the festive board in Benson's barn, every one of them
a help to wealth instead of a diminution to it; strong, intelligent lads,
healthy and handy lasses. With scarce a care or a doubt, he could
calculate on their comfortable future.

'I tell you what, neighbour,' cried stout John Benson, from the head
of the table, 'throw by cold water for once, and pledge me in good
whisky to the lucky day that brought us both to Canada.'

'Na, na,' quoth Davidson, shaking his grizzled head, 'I'll drink the
toast wi' all my heart, but it must be in gude water. These twenty year
back I hae been a temperance man, and hae brought up thae lads to
the same fashion; for, coming to Canada, I kenned what ruined mony a
puir fallow might weel be the ruin o' me, an' I took a solemn vow that
a drap o' drink suld never moisten my lips mair. Sandy Davidson
wouldna be gettin' John Benson's daughter in marriage the day, if it
werena for the cauld water.'

Captain Armytage, who never missed a merrymaking of any

description within a circle of miles, took on himself to reply to this
teetotal oration.

It was all very well for Mr. Davidson to talk thus, but few
constitutions could bear up against the excessive labour of bush life
without proportionate stimulants. For his own part, he would sink
under it, but for judicious reinforcement of cordials, ordered him by the
first medical man in Europe.

'I daur say,' replied Davidson, whose keen hard eye had been fixed
on the speaker; 'I daur say. Ye mak' nae faces at yer medicine,
anyhow. It's weel that Zack's store is so handy to Daisy Burn, only I'm
thinkin' the last will go to the first, in the long run.'

'What do you mean, sir?' demanded the captain fierily.

'Naething,' responded Davidson coolly,—'naething save what e'er the

words mean.'
 'But we were a-goin' to drink to Canada, our adopted country,' put in
Benson, willing to stifle the incipient quarrel—'the finest country on the
face of the earth, after Old England.'

His stentorian Shropshire lungs supplied a cheer of sufficient

intensity, taken up by his guests.

'The country whar we needna fear factor, nor laird, nor rent-day,'
shouted Davidson. 'We're lairds an' factors here, an' our rent-day
comes—never.'

'Whirroo!' exclaimed an Irishman, Pat O'Brien, who, having been

evicted in his own country, was particularly sensitive as to landlord and
tenant-right. 'No more agints, nor gales o' rint, nor nothin', ever to
pay!'

'Not forgetting the tax-gatherer,' interposed portly Mr. Benson. 'None

of us are partikler sorry to part with him.'

Meanwhile the comely bride was sitting with her husband at one side
of the table, thankful for the diversion from herself as a topic of
enthusiasm and mirth.

'Lads, you'd be a' at the loom, an' your sisters in the factories, only
for Canada,' said Davidson, now on his legs. 'An' I suld be lookin'
for'ard to the poor-house as soon as my workin' days were ower; an'
Sandy couldna marry, except to live on porridge an' brose, wi' cauld
kail o' Sabbath. How wad ye relish that prospect, bonnie Susan?'

Bonnie Susan liked the prospect of the folds of her own silk dress
best at that moment, to judge by the determinately downward glance
of her eyes.

By and by Davidson (for the subject was a favourite one with him)
hit upon another of the Canadian advantages as a poor man's land—
that the larger a man's family, the wealthier was he. No need to look
on the little ones as superfluous mouths, which by dire necessity the
labourer in mother country is often forced to do; for each child will
become an additional worker, therefore an additional means of gain.

'An' if the folk at hame kenned this mair, dinna ye think the
emigration wad be thrice what it is, Mr. Robert? Dinna ye think they
wad risk the sea an' the strangers, to make a safe future for their
bairns? Ay, surely. An' when I think o' the people treading one anither
down over the edges o' thae three little islands, while a country as big
as Europe stands amaist empty here'—

Mr. Davidson never stated the consequences of his thought; for just
then came a universal call to clear the tables, stow away the boards
and tressels, and make room for dancing and small plays. The hilarity
may be imagined—the boisterous fun of general blindman's buff, ladies'
toilet, and all varieties of forfeits. Robert Wynn stole away in the
beginning; he had come for an hour, merely to gratify their good
neighbour Davidson; but, pressing as was his own farm-work, he found
time to spend another hour at Daisy Burn, doing up some garden beds
under direction of Miss Edith. She had come to look on him as a very
good friend; and he——well, there was some indefinable charm of
manner about the young lady. Those peculiarly set grey eyes were so
truthful and so gentle, that low musical voice so perfect in tone and
inflection, that Robert was pleased to look or listen, as the case might
be. But chiefest reason of all—was she not dear Linda's choicest friend
and intimate? Did they not confide every secret of their hearts to each
other? Ah, sunbeam, Linda knew well that there was a depth of her
friend's nature into which she had never looked, and some reality of
gloom there which she only guessed.

Perhaps it was about Edith's father or brother. That these gentlemen

neglected their farm business, and that therefore affairs could not
prosper, was tolerably evident. Fertile as is Canadian soil, some
measure of toil is requisite to evolve its hidden treasures of agricultural
wealth. Except from a hired Irish labourer named Mickey Dunne, Daisy
Burn farm did not get this requisite. The young man Reginald now
openly proclaimed his abhorrence of bush life. No degree of self-
control or arduous habits had prepared him for the hard work
essential. Most of the autumn he had lounged about the 'Corner,'
except when his father was in Zack's bar, which was pretty often; or he
was at Cedar Creek on one pretext or other, whence he would go on
fishing and shooting excursions with Arthur.

Meanwhile, Robert's farming progressed well. His fall-wheat was all

down by the proper period, fifteenth of September; for it is found that
the earlier the seed is sown, the stronger is the plant by the critical
time of its existence, and the better able to withstand frost and rust.
Complacently he looked over the broad brown space, variegated with
charred stumps, which occupied fully a twelfth of the cleared land; and
stimulated by the pleasures of hope, he calculated on thirty-five
bushels an acre next summer as the probable yield. Davidson had
raised forty per acre in his first season at Daisy Burn, though he
acknowledged that twenty-five was the present average.

The garden stuff planted on Robert's spring-burn ground had

flourished; more than two hundred bushels per acre of potatoes were
lodged in the root-house, and a quantity of very fine turnips and
carrots. Beans had not thriven: he learned that the climate is
considered unfavourable for them. The pumpkins planted between his
rows of Indian corn had swelled and swelled, till they lay huge golden
balls on the ground, promising abundant dishes of 'squash' and sweet
pie through the winter.

'How is it that everything thrives with you, Wynn?' young Armytage

said one afternoon that he found the brothers busy slitting rails for the
fencing of the aforesaid fall-wheat. 'I should say the genius of good
luck had a special care over Cedar Creek.'

'Well, nature has done three-fourths of it,' answered Robert, driving

in a fresh wedge with his beetle; 'for this soil reminds me of some
poet's line—"Tickle the earth with a straw, and forth laughs a yellow
harvest." The other quarter of our success is just owing to hard work,
Armytage, as you may see.'

'I can't stand that,' said the young man, laughing: 'give me
something to do at once;' and he began to split rails also. Linda,
coming from the house, found them thus employed—a highly industrial
trio.

'I recollect being promised wild plums to preserve,' said she, after
looking on for a little. 'Suppose you get out the canoe, Bob, and we go
over to that island where we saw such quantities of them unripe? Now
don't look so awfully wise over your wedges, but just consider how I
am to have fruit tarts for people, if the fruit is never gathered.'

Whether the motive was this telling argument, or that his work was
almost finished owing to the additional hand, Robert allowed the beetle
to be taken from his fingers and laid aside. 'You imperious person! I
suppose we must obey you.'

The day was one of those which only Canada in the whole world can
furnish—a day of the 'pink mist,' when the noon sun hangs central in a
roseate cup of sky. The rich colour was deepest all round the horizon,
and paled with infinite shades towards the zenith, like a great blush
rose drooping over the earth. Twenty times that morning Linda went
from the house to look at it: her eyes could not be satiated with the
beauty of the landscape and of the heavens above.

Then, what colours on the trees! As the canoe glided along through
the enchanted repose of the lake, what painted vistas of forest opened
to the voyagers' sight! what glowing gold islets against an azure
background of distant waters and purple shores! what rainbows had
fallen on the woods, and steeped them in hues more gorgeous than
the imagination of even a Turner could conceive! Shades of lilac and
violet deepening into indigo; scarlet flecked with gold and green; the
darkest claret and richest crimson in opposition: no tropical forest was
ever dyed in greater glory of blossom than this Canadian forest in glory
of foliage.

'What can it be, Robert?' asked Linda, after drinking in the delight of
colour in a long silent gaze. 'Why have we never such magnificence
upon our trees at home?'
 'People say it is the sudden frost striking the sap; or that there is
some peculiar power in the sunbeams—actinic power, I believe 'tis
called—to paint the leaves thus; but one thing seems fatal to this
supposition, that after a very dry summer the colouring is not near so
brilliant as it would be otherwise. I'm inclined to repose faith in the
frost theory myself; for I have noticed that after a scorching hot day
and sharp night in August, the maples come out in scarlet next
morning.'

'Now, at home there would be some bald patches on the trees,'

observed Arthur. 'The leaves seem to fall wholesale here, after staying
on till the last.'

'I have heard much of the Indian summer,' said Linda, 'but it far
exceeds my expectation. An artist would be thought mad who
transferred such colouring to his canvas, as natural. Just look at the
brilliant gleam in the water all along under that bank, from the golden
leafage above it; and yonder the reflection is a vermilion stain. I never
saw anything so lovely. I hope it will last a long time, Bob.'

That was impossible to say; sometimes the Indian summer was for
weeks, sometimes but for a few days; Canadians had various opinions
as to its arrival and duration: September, October, or November might
have portions of the dreamy hazy weather thus called. As to why the
name was given, nobody could tell; except it bore reference to an
exploded idea that the haze characteristic of the time of the year arose
from the burning of the great grassy prairies far west by the red men.

'What has become of your colony of Indians?' asked Armytage,

'those who lived near the cedar swamp?'

'Oh, they left us in "the whortleberry moon," as they call August, and
migrated to some region where that fruit abounds, to gather and store
it for winter use. They smoke the berries over a slow fire, I am told,
and when dry, pack them in the usual birch-bark makaks; and I've
seen them mixed with the dough of bread, and boiled with venison or
porcupine, or whatever other meat was going, as we would use whole
pepper.'
 'After the whortleberries, they were to go to the rice-grounds,'
observed Arthur. 'Bob, suppose we paddle over and try for ducks in the
rice-beds, to the lee of that island.'

Here were some hundred yards of shallow water, filled with the tall
graceful plant, named by the Jesuits 'folle avoine,' and by the English
'wild rice.' The long drooping ears filled with very large grains, black
outside and white within, shook down their contents into the silt at
bottom with every movement which waved their seven-feet stems.
Arthur knew it as a noted haunt of wild duck, a cloud of which arose
when he fired.

'It was here we met all the pigeons the other day,' said he. 'Those
trees were more like the inside of a feather-bed than anything else, so
covered were they with fluttering masses of birds; you couldn't see a
bit of the foliage; and 'twas quite amusing to watch some of them
lighting on the rice, which wasn't strong enough to support them, and
trying to pick out the grains. As they could neither swim nor stand,
they must have been thoroughly tantalized. Don't you remember,
Armytage?'

But their main business, the plums, must be attended to; the islet
was found which was bordered with festoons of them, hanging over
the edge in the coves; and after due feasting on the delicious aromatic
fruit, they gathered some basketsful. When that was done, it was high
time to paddle homewards; the sun was gliding forth from the roseate
vault over the western rim, and a silvery haze rose from the waters,
softly veiling the brilliant landscape.

'A great improvement to your charcoal forest, it must be owned,' said

Robert, pointing Armytage to where the sharp black tops of rampikes
projected over the mist. The young man did not relish allusions to that
folly of his father's, and was silent.

'Oh, Bob, what a pretty islet!' exclaimed Linda, as they passed a rock
crested with a few trees, and almost carpeted by the brilliant red
foliage of the pyrola, or winter green. 'The bushes make quite a
crimson wreath round the yellow poplars.'
 'I think,' said Robert, with deliberation, 'it would be almost worth the
voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to see this single day of "the pink
mist."'

CHAPTER XXXVI.

BELOW ZERO.

ndian summer was succeeded by the 'temps boucaneux,' when

hoarfrost drooped noiselessly on the night its silver powder on all the
dazzling colouring, presenting nature robed in a delicate white guise
 each morning, which the sun appropriated to himself as soon
as he could get above the vapours. Now were the vast waters
of Canada passing from a fluid to a solid form, giving out
caloric in quantities, accompanied by these thin mists. Towards
the close of November navigation ceases on the Ottawa; the
beginning of December sees the mighty river frozen over. Yet
it lies in the latitude of Bordeaux! All honour to the benevolent
Gulf Stream which warms France and England comfortably.

When Linda's fingers were particularly cold, she would

puzzle Robert and her father with questions as to why this should be
so. Mr. Holt once told her that the prevailing wind came from the
north-west across a vast expanse of frozen continent and frozen ocean.
Also that James's Bay, the southern tongue of Hudson's, was apt to get
choked with masses of ice drifted in from the arctic seas, and which,
being without a way of escape, just jammed together and radiated cold
in company on the surrounding lands.

This explanation was given and received within earshot of a splendid

fire on one of those tremendous January mornings when the
temperature is perhaps twenty-five degrees below zero, when the very
smoke cannot disperse in the frozen atmosphere, and the breath of
man and beast returns upon them in snowy particles. Nobody cares to
be out of doors, for the air cuts like a knife, and one's garments stiffen
like sheet-iron. Linda stands at the window of the little parlour—well
she understands now why the hearth was made almost as wide as one
side of the room—and looks out on the white world, and on the
coppery sun struggling to enlighten the icy heavens, and on that
strange phenomenon, the ver glas, gleaming from every tree.

'Now, Mr. Holt, as you have been good enough to attempt an

explanation of the cold, perhaps you could tell me the cause of the ver
glas? What makes that thin incrustation of ice over the trunk and every
twig which has been attracting my admiration these three days? It was
as if each tree was dressed in a tight-fitting suit of crystal when the
sun succeeded in shining a little yesterday.'
 'I imagine that the cause was the slight thaw on Monday, and the
freezing of the moisture that then covered the bark and branches into
a coat of ice. So I only attempt explanations, Miss Linda.'

'Oh, but it is not your fault if they are unsatisfactory, as I own that of
the north-west winds and James's Bay was to me; it is the fault of
science. I'm afraid you'll not answer another question which I have,
since I am so ungrateful as not to accept everything you say with
becoming reverence.'

'Name your question.'

'Why is every fourth day milder than the others? Why may we reckon
with almost certainty on a degree of soft weather to-morrow?'

'Those are the tertian intervals, and nobody understands them.'

'Concise and candid, if it doesn't make me wiser; but I'm

compensated for that in finding something of which you are equally
ignorant with myself, Mr. Holt.'

Remarks of a more superficial character were extorted by the

severity of the weather from the inmates of the kitchen.

'Arrah, Miss Libby asthore, wor ye able to sleep one wink last night
wid the crakling of the threes? I niver heerd'—

'Sartin sure I was,' replied the rubicund damsel, as she moved briskly
about her work. She had a peculiarity of wearing very short skirts, lest
they should impede her progress; but once that Andy ventured a
complimentary joke on her ankles, he met with such scathing scorn
that he kept aloof from the subject in future, though often sorely
tempted.

'Nothen ever kep me waking,' asseverated the Yankee girl with

perfect truth. 'Now, young man, jest git out o' my way; warm yar
hands in yar hair, if you've a mind teu—it's red enough, I guess.'
 'Throth an' I wish I could take your advice, Miss; or if you'd give me
a few sparks of yer own hot timper, I needn't ever come up to the
hearth at all at all.'

'Thar, go 'long with you for a consaited sot-up chap, an' bring in a
couple of armfuls of wood,' said the lady. 'I reckon you'd best take care
of your hair settin' fire to the logs, Mister Handy,' she added with a
chuckle.

Linda entered the kitchen on some household business, and Mr.

Callaghan was too respectful to retort in her presence. But this is a
specimen of the odd sort of sparring which Arthur chose to consider
courtship, and to rally both parties about.

''Deed then I hope 'tisn't the likes of a crooked stick of her kind I'd
be afther bringin' home at long last,' Andy would say, wielding his axe
with redoubled vigour.

'I guess I ain't agoin' jest to be sich a soft un as to take the care of
him for nothen',' the lady would say, flouncing about her kitchen and
laying ineffable emphasis on the last word. Whence it would appear
that the feud was irreconcilable.

Next day was bright, and the mercury had climbed nearer to zero; so
the sleigh was had out—Mr. Holt's sleigh, which had brought him from
Mapleton to Cedar Creek, and was very much at everybody's service
while he remained. Linda dressed in her warmest attire, and prepared
for a run to the 'Corner' with her father. The sleigh was but a 'cutter'
for carrying two, and had handsome robes of its equipment, a pair for
each seat; one of wolf-skins garnished with a row of tails at the bottom
and lined with scarlet; another a bear-skin, in which the beast's grim
countenance had been preserved, and his claws affixed as a fringe.
When Linda was comfortably wrapped up, Mr. Holt produced a third
robe to throw over all.

'What a curious texture! a platted material and yet fur!' she said,
looking at it.