S.S.

The 19th of August came, and our little harvest was all safely housed.  Business called Moodie away for a few days to Cobourg.  Jenny had gone to Dummer, to visit her friends, and J. E—–­ had taken a grist of the new wheat, which he and Moodie had threshed the day before, to the mill.  I was consequently left alone with the children, and had a double portion of work to do.  During their absence it was my lot to witness the most awful storm I ever beheld, and a vivid recollection of its terrors was permanently fixed upon my memory.

The weather had been intensely hot during the three preceding days, although the sun was entirely obscured by a blueish haze, which seemed to render the unusual heat of the atmosphere more oppressive.  Not a breath of air stirred the vast forest, and the waters of the lake assumed a leaden hue.  After passing a sleepless night, I arose, a little after day-break, to superintend my domestic affairs.  E—–­ took his breakfast, and went off to the mill, hoping that the rain would keep off until after his return.

“It is no joke,” he said, “being upon these lakes in a small canoe, heavily laden, in a storm.”

Before the sun rose, the heavens were covered with hard-looking clouds, of a deep blue and black cast, fading away to white at their edges, and in the form resembling the long, rolling waves of a heavy sea—­but with this difference, that the clouds were perfectly motionless, piled in long curved lines, one above the other, and so remained until four o’clock in the afternoon.  The appearance of these clouds, as the sun rose above the horizon, was the most splendid that can be imagined, tinged up to the zenith with every shade of saffron, gold, rose-colour, scarlet, and crimson, fading away into the deepest violet.  Never did the storm-fiend shake in the face of a day a more gorgeous banner; and, pressed as I was for time, I stood gazing like one entranced upon the magnificent pageant.

As the day advanced, the same blue haze obscured the sun, which frowned redly through his misty veil.  At ten o’clock the heat was suffocating, and I extinguished the fire in the cooking-stove, determined to make our meals upon bread and milk, rather than add to the oppressive heat.  The thermometer in the shade ranged from ninety-six to ninety-eight degrees, and I gave over my work and retired with the ones to the coolest part of the house.  The young creatures stretched themselves upon the floor, unable to jump about or play; the dog lay panting in the shade; the fowls half-buried themselves in the dust, with open beaks and outstretched wings; all nature seemed to droop beneath the scorching heat.

Unfortunately for me, a gentlemen arrived about one o’clock from Kingston, to transact some business with my husband.  He had not tasted food since six o’clock, and I was obliged to kindle the fire to prepare his dinner.  It was one of the hardest tasks I ever performed; I almost fainted with the heat, and most inhospitably rejoiced when his dinner was over, and I saw him depart.  Shortly after, my friend Mrs. C—–­ and her brother called in, on their way from Peterborough.