THE SETTLERS OF LONG ARROW.
A Canadian Romance in Thirty-one Chapters.
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CHAPTER I.
At the close of a bright, mild day in April, a scow, heavily laden, and with four men on board, entered one of the smallest and most beautiful bays on Lake Erie, formed by two points jutting out from the crescent-shaped shore, which, sweeping round in graceful curves, half enclosed the little haven in their sheltering arms. One of these points was long, low, and narrow, and at its termination bore a singular resemblance to the barbed head of an arrow; its fellow was high, partially wooded, with bare, jagged rocks protruding here and there, and was surmounted by a precipitous cliff, on whose brow stood a group of giant pines, that for centuries had bade defiance to the fierce hurricanes that in spring and autumn poured their fury over them. A narrow beach of shining sand and stones margined the central shore of the bay, and then rose into round, swelling knolls, interspersed with sloping hollows, thinly scattered with timber of the most magnificent growth; a little farther on came the wild unbroken forest, which showed no signs yet of donning its summer garb, rising dark, and frowning against the blue horizon.
The owner of great part of the fertile heights which the scow was approaching leant lazily over the bow of the boat, gazing towards the land which was henceforth to be his home. He was a man about forty, with jet black hair and whiskers, and such features as are commonly called handsome, but the beauty was of that class which can exist without any of the higher attributes of mind, and was rendered in this case even disagreeable by an expression of hard and reckless indifference. His dress, though fitted to encounter a rough voyage, was superior to that of his companions, and he displayed a gold chain, and seals of some value. His manners were as rude and coarse as those of primitive backwoodsmen generally are, yet there was a certain air of easy confidence in his carriage which made more
