CHAPTER I.

Backward, backward, through time’s vast chambers, In a dreamful reverie go; Flitting down the vanishing ages, Fifty and two hundred years ago. Between Lake Simcoe and Lake Huron, In the radius of Ontario, Waved a grand primeval forest In the sunlight’s ebb and flow.

A great wide stretch of wooded landscape, Interspersed by stream and rill; With gentle swells and undulations, And sylvan glade and shrouded hill. And all this great wide reach was teeming With all kind of luscious game; The moose and red deer roamed by thousands, In nature’s freedom went and came.

The savage bear and wild wolf haunted This wide expanse in quest of prey; The lynx and wildcat, too, were prowling The dim aisles by night and day. The crafty fox here thickly burrowed, Mink, otter, and the festive coon; The cunning beaver by the streamlet Built under cover of night’s gloom.

The wild fowl covered all the streamlets-- Geese, ducks, and teal, and lonely loon; Their ceaseless babble and their chatter Enlivened all the forest’s gloom. And song birds covered all the branches, Sweet birds of every shade and hue; And waves of melody they uttered, As down the forest aisles they flew.

The night-bird, too, the night made vocal, The cat-bird, owl, and whippoorwill; They wakened up the dim recesses, When summer nights were warm and still. And through the awesome, stately forest, Mysterious voices ebb and flow; And weird, fantastic, ghostly shadows Through faint, far distance palely go.

And Lake Simcoe and grand Lake Huron Swarmed with fish in countless store; All the warm bays and sunny inlets, The streams and rivers round the shore. And over all this wide expansion The sweet wild winds in rapture blew, Rustling through the dim old forest, And o’er the lake’s wide bosom blue.

There sun and shadow alternating, And skies of cloud or sapphire hue Domed o’er the loveliness of nature-- The far, far past this picture knew. Here was the home of the proud Hurons, Fifty and two hundred years ago; Thirty thousand happy Indians By the bright water’s laughing flow.

Herein they dwelt for unknown ages, By the Iroquois tribes hated so; A fragment of some long lost nation, Prehistoric, but who may know? Aye, here they builded quaint, queer wigwams, Indian towns by shore and stream, Palisaded round and bastioned, Double-rowed, and looped between.

Thus, to guard ’gainst outer foemen, They builded strong, and to endure The siege, or onslaught, or surprises, They sought and labored to secure. Within were store-rooms wide and ample, With food to last at least a year, From the Indian maize and cornfields-- Of famine they need have no fear.

And all the tepees and warm wigwams Were blest with comfort and good cheer; Stored with fish and game in plenty, The winter had for them no fear. Fine robes and mantles of warm bearskin, Wolf and lynx and the festive coon, Otter, mink, the fox and sly beaver, As soft and warm as summer’s noon.

This great wide reach of lake and forest, River and stream and flowing rill, Rendered up their richest fulness To the hunter’s unerring skill. Laws and customs they established In some far-off, unknown age-- Who shall penetrate the mystery That enshrouds their history’s page?

And those barbaric laws and customs Were respected and obeyed; Sure death it was to the transgressor Who the nation’s cause betrayed. And they believed in the Great Spirit; Manitou they worshipped there; A future state of peace and comfort, The happy hunting-grounds so fair.

Within those palisaded hamlets Strange rites and festivals were seen; The weird, blood-curdling pagan war-dance, A frightful and barbaric scene. And the great council of the nation, Many grand war chiefs, stern and brave, Deliberated all great questions, And cunningly decision gave.

And those red children of the forest Had their queer games, their social hour, A relaxation from all turmoil, A rest from war’s relentless power. Then the great chiefs and older warriors Smoked in peace, and stories told Of their strange lives and great adventures, Heroic deeds and ventures bold.

And the younger braves and maidens Enacted what to youth belongs, And told their tales of love and rapture, Danced and sang their tribal songs. Wandering by the shore or river, Life to them was fair and sweet, Many a dusky Indian beauty Had her lover at her feet.

Oft in their light canoes they glided O’er the waters’ sparkling blue, Lingering in the dreamy sunset ’Neath fading skies of sapphire hue. Ah! those heathen souls were happy, Communing there with nature’s heart; Beneath the wide-domed arch of heaven They had of life a tender part.

And the lithe children of the nation Played in wild, ecstatic glee, Nimble in untrammelled nature, As squirrel leaping from tree to tree. And marriages were celebrated, Funeral rites were quaint and queer; Believing Manitou was near them The mourner’s troubled heart to cheer.

Like us they had their hopes and passions, Ambition stirred their pagan souls; Strange fear and awe and superstition An almighty hand controls. And in the wind’s low sob and whisper, The waves that murmur on the shore, The phantom voices of the forest, And in the storm king’s mighty roar.