Mark Hurdlestone, the gold worshipper

Front matter

THE GOLD WOESHIPPEE. LY MRS. MOODIE, AUTHOR OF ''ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH; OR, LIFE IN CANADA;" 11 ENTHUSIASM." The fire burns low, these winter nights are cold I'd fain to bed, and take my usual rest. But duty cries, "There's work for thee to do; Stir up the embers, fetch another log, To cheer the empty hearth. This is the hour When fancy calls to life her busy train; And thou must note the vision ere it flies.'' IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1853. London: bradbury and evans, printers, whitefriars. JOHN BEUCE, ESQ. artjis Folume IS AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY DEDICATED, BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. Belleville, Upper Canada, Nov. 1852.

Introduction

. The story of Mark Hurdlestone, the Gold Worshipper, which I here present to the British public, forms the first of a series, that employed my pen during the long, cold, winter nights of ] 838 — 9 ; when the protracted absence of my husband on the frontier rendered the privations and solitude of my forest home more hard to bear. In the fall of 1837 a magazine was started by Messrs. Lovell and Gibson in Montreal. In the December of that year Mr. Lovell wrote to me to obtain contributions from my pen, both in prose and verse, for the new-born periodical. With a generosity unusual in this country he requested me to name my own terms.

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. An offer so unexpected and so liberal from a perfect stranger appeared like a message sent to me from heaven ; and, poor as I then was, I felt tempted to contribute what I could gratis. But ray infant family of four small children, the eldest not quite six years old, put an effectual check upon my impulsive generosity. I found upon reflection that this was entirely out of my power. Time to me was money — it belonged by right to my family, and was too valuable a commodity to give away. I therefore named five pounds per sheet, as the price required for articles from my pen, which had to be written after the labours of the day were over, and the children were asleep in their beds. Tbe magazine was of large size, with double columns, and in very small type. It required a great deal of writing to fill a sheet.

Strange as it may appear to the reader, these literary labours were a great refreshment to me, instead of an additional fatigue. They helped to fill up the hungry void at my heart, occasioned by the long absence of my husband; and I

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. IX forgot the hardships and privations of my lot, whilst rousing into action, after long disuse, the powers and energies of my mind. And then the reward was so great, so unhoped-for; it seemed an answer to my earnest prayers, that I might be able to do something to help us out of our difficulties, and supply my family with the common necessaries of life. It was a joy to me that I was writing for bread, and with the prospect of winning it ; and I was amply rewarded by the delight of the children, when the labours of these winter nights purchased shoes for their little bare feet, and procured them warm and comfortable clothing. Dear children ! their love and devotion was our greatest consolation. It sweetened all our toils, hushed all regretful murmurs, and recon ciled us to a stern destiny — for independently of the fond partiality of parents, they were as charming a little flock as ever mother gathered nightly into the domestic fold. They were patient, industrious, and affectionate, and true to the best and holiest instincts of childhood.

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. X Poverty! thou despised but glorious angel of God. Thou, with the bare feet, coarse garments, and sad earnest face. How many useful lessons we learned in thy heaven-taught school ! How did thy stern teachings soften the asperity of our nature, and foster all that was good and noble in heart and character; showing us how mind can triumph over matter, and the soul be thankful to the great Father for His magnificent gift of life, in spite of hard toil and coarse clothing! "When I look back upon those years of trial, softened by distance from my "tranquil and happy home," I rejoice exceedingly that they were mine, for they taught me the real value of the lower classes ; taught me to recognise the majesty of God's image in the peasant ; and to hold it as sacred, and as worthy of admiration and respect, as in the prince.

It is almost impossible for any one who has never earned his own bread by manual labour to feel an affectionate interest in the every -day workers of the world, or regard them really as brethren. Having experienced in my own person somewhat of their

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. XI trials and sufferings, I never feel the least degraded by honourable poverty, or ashamed of owning that I have worked for daily bread, and would do so cheerfully again did occasion require. Twenty years ago Canada was not in a condition to foster a literature of her own, and the upper province had not given to the world a native-born author of any distinction. Peopled almost entirely by U. E. loyalists, or poor emigrants from the mother country, who were forced by necessity to devote all their time and energies to obtain food for their families, they had no leisure for the study of books, and no money to spare for the purchase of them. Besides, the greater portion of such emigrants were perfectly uneducated ; many of them unable either to read or write. Their occupation was to handle the axe and the handspike, to guide the plough, and kindle the lagging fire; not to drive the pen.

Learning would have been of little use to the first pioneers of the great wilderness : it would only have impeded their progress, and filled their minds

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. XII with disgust while contemplating the difficulties which hard and unremitting labour could alone surmount. The industry of the first settlers, who were the original founders of towns and villages, enabled them to place their children in more easy cir cumstances ; and their descendants, born in the country, and brought up to the liberal professions, form the aristocracy of Canada. From this class her legislators and local officers are generally chosen; and they are exceedingly jealous of foreigners interfering, in any way, with what they consider their rights as Canadians born. Illiberal as this view of things may appear to strangers of education who come to settle among them, it is not without its advantages; as it fosters a love of country, from which all true patriotism must naturally spring.

Since 1S32 the Colony has made rapid strides in moral and intellectual improvement. It is really wonderful to remark the great change which a few years under a more liberal government has effected in the condition of the people. Education was

INTRODUCTION.

. XIII then confined to a very few ; it is now diffused through the whole length and breadth of the land. Every large town has its college and grammar school, and free schools abound in every district. The poorest child may be taught to read and write at the public expense. His parents have only to wash his hands and face, and send him to school ; and the eagerness with which the poorer class seize every opportunity of improving their mental powers, in the hope of raising themselves to an equality with their wealthier neighbours, will soon place this great and rising country on an equal footing with the mighty republic, whose gigantic strides to political and commercial im portance may perhaps be traced to the education of her people. There is now no lack of books in Canada, of money to purchase them, and persons to read and understand them.

The reading class is no longer confined to the independent and wealthy : mechanics and artisans are all readers when they have time to spare; and the cheap American reprints of the best European works enable them

INTRODUCTION.

. to gratify their taste, without drawing very largely upon their purse. The traffic in books from the United States employs a great many young men, who travel through the country, selling and taking up sub scriptions for new works ; and the astonishingly low price at which they can be obtained is an incalculable benefit to the colony, however it may interfere with the rights of European publishers. Of books published in the Colony, we have very few indeed; and those which have been issued from a Canadian press have generally been got out, either by subscription, or at the expense of the author. It is almost impossible for any work published in Canada to remunerate the bookseller, while the United States can produce reprints of the works of the first writers in the world, at a quarter the expense.

The same may be said of the different magazines which have been published in the Colony. Shortly after we came to Canada, a magazine was started in Toronto, called the "Canadian Literary Magazine," edited by Mr. Kent, a

INTRODUCTION.

. XV gentleman of considerable talent ; and his list of contributors embraced some of the cleverest men in the Colony. This periodical, though a very fair specimen of that species of literature, and under the immediate patronage of the Lieutenant- Governor, Sir John Colborne, only reached its third number, and died for want of support. Another monthly, bearing the same title, minus the Literary, was issued the same year ; but being inferior in every respect to its predecessor, it never reached a third number. A long time elapsed between the disappearance of these unfortunate attempts at a national periodical and the appearance of the " Montreal Literary Garland/' which was published at the most exciting period of Canadian history, on the eve of her memorable rebellion, which proved so fatal to its instigators, and of such incalculable benefit to the Colony.

For twelve years the " Literary Garland " obtained a wide circulation in the Colony, and might still have continued to support its character as a popular monthly periodical, had it not been

INTRODUCTION.

. done to death by " Harper's Magazine " and the " International." These American monthlies, got up in the first style, handsomely illustrated, and composed of the best articles, selected from European and American magazines, are sold at such a low rate, that one or the other is to be found in almost every decent house in the province. It was utterly impossible for a colonial magazine to compete with them ; for, like the boy mentioned by St. Pierre, they enjoyed the advantage of stealing the brooms ready made. It is greatly to the credit of the country that for so many years she supported a publication hke the " Garland," and much to be regretted that a truly Canadian publication should be put to silence by a host of foreign magazines, which were by no means superior in literary merit. The " Literary Garland" languished during the years 1850 and 1851, and finally expired in the December of the latter. From the period of its outset, until its close, I was a constant contributor to the " Garland," in

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. XVII which I earned from twenty to forty pounds per annum, as time or inclination tempted me to contribute to its pages. The flattering manner in which all my articles were received by the Canadian public was highly gratifying to my feelings; and as human nature, with very few modifications, is the same everywhere, it induced in me a hope, that what had won for me respect in the land of my adoption, would not be received unfavourably by my own country ; for though my writings must pass through a more severe ordeal, and stand the test of more learned criticism in England, I feel certain, that whatever is worthy of notice will not fail to command a generous acknowledgment from her truthful people. In the January of 1841 a Canadian monthly review was published in Toronto, conducted by John Waudby, Esq., and devoted to the civil government of Canada.

This magazine was strictly political. It contained many admirable, well-written articles, but its existence did not extend beyond a few months. In the May of 1846, Barker's "Canadian

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. XVIII Monthly Magazine " was published in Kingston, and though decidedly a party magazine, contained many excellent papers; and as far as literary merit was concerned, was entitled to long life and popularity. But it insured neither of these advantages, and its brief career terminated at the expiration of twelve months. This was decidedly the best magazine that had appeared in the Upper Province. In 1848, Mr. Moodie and myself undertook the joint editorship of a cheap monthly magazine published in Belleville, under the title of the " Victoria Magazine." This periodical was issued at the low price of five shillings per annum, and was chiefly intended as a periodical for the people. It had a good circulation, for the brief period of its existeuce, which only lasted until the end of the year, when the failure of its proprietor, who was engaged in several literary speculations, put a stop to its further progress. Our subscription list contained eight hundred names : all of these subscribers had paid their twelvemonth's subscriptions in advance, and Mr.

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. XIX W must have been a considerable gainer by the publication, although we received nothing for our trouble. The greater portion of the articles, and all the reviews and notices of new works, were written by us. Had we been able to purchase the magazine, and carry it on as our own property, I feel very little doubt of its success. Whilst conducting this periodical, we had many opportunities of judging of the literary taste and capacity of the public, from the articles that we were constantly receiving for insertion. We had some clever contributions offered to us for the magazine, but they were all, with a very few exceptions, from persons born and educated in the mother country, and could scarcely be ranked under the head of Canadian talent. It was our earnest desire to encourage as much as possible native-born authors, and to make our magazine a medium through which they might gaiu the attention of the public ; and we were not a little disappointed, that the few articles we received from Canadian writers, were not of a character to interest our readers. The Canadian people are

INTRODUCTION.

. XX more practical than imaginative. Komantic tales and poetry would meet with less favour in their eyes, than a good political article from their newspapers. The former they scarcely understand, the latter is a matter of general interest to the community. Yet there are few countries in the world which possess so many natural advantages, and present more striking subjects to fire the genius of the poet, and guide the pencil of the painter. Beautiful — most beautiful in her rugged grandeur is this vast country. How awful is the sublime solitude of her pathless woods ! what eloquent thoughts flow out of the deep silence that broods over them ! We feel as if we stood alone in the presence of God, and nature lay at His feet in speechless adoration. Has Canada no poet to describe the glories of his parent land — no painter, that can delineate her matchless scenery of land and wave ? Are her children dumb and blind, that they leave to strangers the task of singing her praise ? The standard literature of Canada must be

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. XXI looked for in her newspapers. Yet the most gifted editors of these numerous journals are chiefly Old Country men. The editor of a clever Canadian paper is on the high road to office and preferment ; but he must be a party man, and go the whole hog, or he cannot long enjoy the patronage and favour of the public. Every small town in the Province has its rival newspapers : and many possess three or four, that pay their own way, and afford a comfortable living to their proprietors. These papers vary in price from seven shillings and sixpence per annum to twenty shillings, and the postage to the most distant town in the Colony does not exceed a halfpenny. A really good newspaper enjoys a wide circulation, not only in its own district, but all over the Colony. A Canadian newspaper is a strange melange of politics, religion, abuse, and general information.

It contains, in a condensed form, all the news of the Old and the New World, and informs its readers of what is passing on the great globe, from the North Pole to the gold mines of Australia and

INTRODUCTION.

. California. So much matter has to be contained in so small a space, that no room remains for dulness, and should a spare column occur, it is always filled up by the droll sayings and doings of brother Jonathan, or clever extracts and reviews of new works just issued from the ever teeming American press. There is no restraint upon the freedom of the press in Canada. Men speak their thoughts boldly and freely. Ay, and print them too, and often run mad in the exuberance of their liberty, if you may judge of their sanity by the intemperate language used in these local journals. The Canadian cannot get on without his newspaper any more than an American could without his tobacco. The " New York Albion," and the " Tribune," edited by Horace Greeley, have likewise a wide circulation in Canada, and there is a host of temperance papers and religious magazines published in the Province. Every large town has its Mechanics' Institute and debating societies, which tend generally to foster a love of literature, and draw out the

INTRODUCTION.

. XXIII mental resources of the community. Men of education deliver lectures gratis at these Insti tutes, and are sure to obtain a good audience. There is no lack of talent in Canada ; but as I have before stated, it is chiefly derived from the mother country, and is often to be found in situa tions where we should least expect it. As an instance of the truth of this observation, I will conclude these remarks upon the literature of Canada with a slight sketch of a poor Irishman, called Michael Ryan, who inhabits a miserable log shanty in the township of Tyendenaga, in this county. The following letter was handed to me one day by my Irish servant girl, who told me — " That there was a quare man in the kitchen, who was a'waitin my answer." The reader may imagine the surprise I felt while perusing this truly original composition.

" Arrah, Misthress Moodie, alanna, as the Irishman would say, and does — an' sure 'tisn't going to let the high shariff hammer off the Httle that I have got, sich times as these, when the

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. XXIV pewther is chisted up so close, that one glimpse can't be catched of a yorker, moreover for sich a mere thrifle, two pound five o' debt, and the rest one pile o' costs, to say nothing about the shariff's fees. Heavens an' airth, Misthress Moodie, dear, sure you'll thry to soften his sowl a bit ; an', I'm tould, 'tant hard to do it. Do, an' the Lord love you ! Tell him the man is poor; has to chop his way through the wild woods, an' a heavy family at his tail to dhrag along. A wee bit of a brother bard, too, you'll My : an' though he's now no more nor a humble axeman, was part of his life a student of ould Trinity, larnin' to be a lawyer, — an' 'tant much he need be sorry that he missed his mark, for the ould Beelzebub has a hand in 'em. 'Do, acushla, let him go. Let the poor man go this hitch ; but if ever agin you cotch him, squeeze him.' 'Well, love, since you say so — ' 'Ah! thank ye, Captain.

I'm much obliged to you, very much, indeed ! That's a dear ! ' " "i es, madam, I am certain of your interference, when you shall be made acquainted with my story.

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. XXV The debt for which I have been sued, was con tracted for a yoke of oxen. Five pounds of the sum I paid the day my note of promise became due, leaving a balance of thirteen pounds against me still. Three months after wards I proffered my creditor ten pounds; but instead of accepting it, as any man of any sort of principle would have done, when not crowded himself, he turned upon his heel, and left my note with a limb of the law. The lawyer I paid up with the exception of two pounds five shillings, and the costs. The devil take the law, I say. It was my first time to get into its clutches, and it will be the last; for, hencefor ward, I will go without before I go in debt. It would be far better for a body, were he stark naked, to wear the hide than to cover it on tick. " I remain, Madam, " With all due respect, " Your Ladyship's most obedient, " Humble Servant, " Michael Ryan." I VOL. I.

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. XXVI Here follow two of the many sweet enclosed in this odd letter : — poems THE EXILE. The bark that's to bear me From home and its sweets, But waits for the land-breeze To breathe on her sheets ; And here wings the wanton. Upon them to play, 'Tis blowing — she's going — 0, there she's away ! All hope, then, has vanish'd. That dash seal'd my doom, It quench'd the last glimmer That peep'd through my gloom ; As wild as the woe was That darken'd my brow. The shafts of affliction I felt not till now. Some say 'tis unseemly The tear to let flow, That the man's but a woman 'Who weeps at his woe. They say — but they know not The anguish that lies In parting for ever From all that we prize. Roll on, ye dark gushes, Why should I restrain ? Ye but lighten a bosom That's bursting in twain.

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. XXVII Roll on, while I murmur Farewell to yon shore, To the land of my birth, Which I ne'er shall see more ! Now, far in the distance, That land do I leave, To eye it but seemeth A spot on the wave ; But while I can ken it, On it are mine eyes ; When 'tis lost in the ocean, I'll look where it lies. These mariners round me Are merry, they may — They brave not the billows, Beyond them to stay. To steer his course backward Each fellow is free, He's doom'd not to wander An outcast like me. Again to the harbour They've left they'll arrive. While to me 'tis forbidden As long as I live. 'Mid regions far distant I'm destined to roam, Till the hand of the stranger Shall dig my last home. When death shall close mine eye, And still the beatings of my breast ; Where is it I would lie, And take my long, long dreamless rgst ?

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. XXVIII my m Is it beside the proud ? I covet not such company. A monarch in his shroud Mute as his meanest slave must be. And where then would I rest ? Is it beside the abbey waU, Where priests in sacred vest Pour forth a requiem for all ' 'Tis good to tarry there, Within the influence divine Of hymn and holy prayer — Elsewhere to sleep, though, would be mine. Well, is't upon the plain ? Or is't beneath the briny wave ? What, slumber with the slain ? I never liked a gory grave. Nor would I like to sleep Amongst the monsters of the sea — The waters of the deep — I'm wild, but they're too wild for me. In my own native land, And to my lowly birth-cot close A Uttle hill doth stand, On which a single hawthorn grows. A thousand times have I Beneath its boughs in boyhood play'd, — When dead, 'tis there I'd lie, I'd rest more calmly in its shade. " Such, madam, is the employment of winter nights, when my shanty is half-buried

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. XXIX the snow ; and wearying as this thing of rhyming is, it relieves me from more corroding thoughts — the cares of the world. I was just in the middle of a Uttle Irish story, after the Carleton fashion, and which accounts to you for the manner I at first addressed you, when the deputy roused me from my reveries, and broke the thread of my story. * 'Tis little you know what it is to begin the world in Canada's wilderness empty-handed ; and I hope to Heaven you never may. The only quadruped of mine worth anything, and the only thing on earth that I had to convert into a payment for my land, which I am in danger of losing, after all my labour, is now in the hands of one of the harpies — a lawyer's grasp." This letter was shortly followed by one to Mr. Moodie, which, like its predecessor, con tained many beautiful little poems.

I need hardly say that Mr. Moodie gave up his fees upon the suit against him; and induced the lawyer to do the same. * Little did poor Ryan imagine that the high sheriff's wife, to whom he so pathetically appealed in his hour of distress, had prac tically experienced all the sorrows he so feelingly laments.

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. XXX Ryan was extremely grateful for this act of kindness, but his letter is rather severe upon the Canadians, and contains more truth than poetry : — "Captain, — Mrs. Moodie says, 'That there is no standard here to measure the gentleman by.' The devil a one is there. In this section of the globe common honesty, to say nothing of honour and its high notions, is an article seldom or never to be met with. There is nothing among us but the Bile, — and, the more dexterous the knave, the more he is looked — not down upon — but up to. When a person is outwitted in a bargain, or outsworn in a suit of law, he is reckoned a mere fool, and laughed at for his simplicity ; while the sharper that shaves him is held up as an object deserving imitation. ' A smart turn that, wasn't it ? ' ' Ho ! that's the boy to get along !

He'd live and grow fat where others starve to death ! ' Just so. Travellers may talk of the tricksy tribes of Africa ; but they are no more than one-day old chickens, when compared

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. XXXI to the swindlers of Canada. She can produce chaps by the churchful, who would not scruple to stick the leak into Saint Peter's herring scow. Still, you would think, from their lugubrious mugs, that they were angels upon earth, you would. Yes, you would. Bad luck to such hypocrisy I say. "Michael Ryan." One more extract from the writings of this man of genius, and I have done. Should what I have said respecting him create in the breast of some liberal publisher an interest in his fate, and be the means of improving his condition, and drawing him from obscurity, it would give me real and heartfelt pleasure, while it rescued from oblivion a fine collection of intellectual gems too good to be lost : — Oh, why should I my brother hate ? From Heaven his soul debar ? Am I to sit a Jove in state, And deal him out a fiend's fate, Because in creeds we jar *

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. XXXII Why should I ? No : it's nought to me How he may serve his shrine, All but believe, and all are free, As they think best, to bend the knee Before the Lord divine. Ev'n were I sure his faith was blind, And that his works would burn, Say, should I show myself less kind ! 'Twould more become a Christian mind To pity, than to spurn. To models old, or fashions new, Let him adhere or flee, 'Tis God's to count him false or true. And mine, in all respects to do As I'd he do to me. Tis mine, unless I mean to prove As lawless as an elf; By Him, who rules the realms above, I'm bidden to live with all in love — To love them as myself. Still persecution o'er the land Is wont her sword to show ; As if the Almighty's own right hand Requires the aid of mortal's brand To crush a traitor foe. Tyendenaga. Michael Ryan.

Chapter I

Say, who art thou — thou lean and haggard wretch ! Thou living satire on the name of man ! Thou, that hast made a god of sordid gold, And to thine idol offered up thy soul. Oh, how I pity thee, thy wasted years : Age without comfort — youth that had no prime. To thy dull gaze, the earth was never green ; The face of nature wore no cheering smile, For ever groping, groping in the dark; Making the soulless object of thy search The grave of all enjoyment. — S. M. Towards the close of the last century, there lived in the extensive parish of Ashton, in the county of , a hard-hearted eccentric old man, called Mark Hurdlestone, the lord of the manor, the wealthy owner of Oak Hall and its B VOL. I. MARE HURDLESTONE. wide demesne, the richest commoner in England, the celebrated miser. Mark Hurdlestone was the wonder of the place; people were never tired of talking about him ; of describing his strange appearance, his odd ways and penurious habits.